Chapter 11 - The Truth in the Silver Locket
The cold wind coming off Lake Michigan was brutal, cutting through our clothes like razor blades.
Luca stepped out of the armored van first.
He held Carlo Bellini by the back of his neck, using the older man as a human shield.
Daniel and Falcone’s men fanned out behind the van doors, weapons raised and locked on Vanessa’s perimeter guards.
I stepped out onto the wet pier, staying low behind the heavy bumper.
Vanessa’s eyes locked onto me.
The veins in her neck bulged with manic fury.
“You’re still alive, you filthy little servant!” Vanessa shrieked, racking the shotgun slide with a vicious click.
“I should have strangled you in the hallway when you first touched that camera!”
“You didn't strangle her,” Luca shouted over the roaring wind.
“Because you were too terrified of what was inside that film canister!”
Vanessa laughed—a high, broken, hysterical sound that was lost in the crash of the lake waves.
“I was terrified? Look at you, Luca! You destroyed your own family tonight for a mother who abandoned you!”
“She didn't abandon him, Vanessa,” a frail voice spoke from behind us.
The side door of the second armored van slid open slowly.
Dr. Rossi stepped out, assisting Lucia Moretti as she walked onto the concrete pier.
Lucia was wrapped in a thick wool blanket, her face pale as parchment, but her eyes were crystal clear.
Vanessa froze.
The shotgun in her hands lowered by three inches.
“Lucia...” Carlo Bellini gasped from Luca’s grip.
“You should be dead...”
Lucia walked forward on trembling legs until she stood beside her son.
She reached out and placed her hand on Luca’s arm.
Luca’s rigid posture softened instantly at her touch.
“I survived twenty-two years of your poison, Carlo,” Lucia said, her voice carrying across the silent pier.
“Because I knew that one day, my son would discover the truth.”
Lucia reached inside her blanket and pulled out an antique silver locket hanging from a delicate chain.
She snapped the locket open.
Inside was a tiny, faded black-and-white photograph of a young man with dark, unruly hair and piercing, laughing eyes.
“Look at this photograph, Carlo,” Lucia commanded.
Carlo squinted through his swollen, bloody eyes.
His jaw dropped.
“No...” Carlo whispered, his voice cracking.
“That’s impossible...”
Lucia turned the locket toward the twelve syndicate captains who stood watching from behind the vans.
“This is Roberto Moretti,” Lucia announced proudly.
“Antonio Moretti’s younger brother. The man Carlo Bellini murdered in an alley behind Michigan Avenue in 1993.”
The captains gasped in shock.
Luca stared down at the tiny photograph in his mother’s hand.
The man in the picture had Luca’s exact smile.
Luca’s exact jawline.
Luca’s exact broad shoulders.
“Luca was never your son, Carlo,” Lucia said, her voice filled with absolute triumph.
“I was already three months pregnant with Roberto’s child when you ambushed me in that garage.”
Carlo began to shake violently, his face turning purple with humiliation and shock.
“You lied to me...” Carlo choked out.
“You let me believe he was my bloodline for twenty-two years!”
“I let you believe whatever was necessary to keep my baby alive,” Lucia said, tears spilling down her cheeks.
“You made Antonio sign that contract because you thought you were stealing the Moretti empire for your own heir.”
She smiled through her tears.
“You spent twenty-two years protecting the very boy who would grow up to destroy you.”
Luca looked down at the crumpled birth certificate he had burned earlier.
The lie wasn't his paternity.
The lie was Carlo’s entire delusion.
Luca was a Moretti through and through.
The true, uncorrupted heir to the syndicate.
Vanessa let out an ear-splitting shriek of rage.
She raised the shotgun directly toward Lucia’s chest.
“Die, you lying old witch!”
Luca didn't wait.
He shoved Carlo sideways and drew his silver pistol in a single blinding motion.
Two shots rang out over the crash of the waves.
Vanessa’s shotgun flew from her hands as a bullet tore through her shoulder.
She collapsed onto the wet concrete, screaming in agony.
At that exact moment, the perimeter guards Carlo had hired realized that the Bellini family was completely finished.
They lowered their weapons one by one, dropping them onto the concrete pier.
Salvatore Falcone stepped forward, raising his heavy cane.
“Take Carlo, Vanessa, and Isabella into custody,” Falcone commanded his soldiers.
“Under the Syndicate Charter, the Bellini family is hereby stripped of all titles, assets, and territories.”
He turned toward Luca, lowering his head in profound respect.
“All hail Don Luca Moretti.”
Every surviving soldier and captain on the pier lowered their heads, bowing before the true heir.
Luca didn't look at the bowing men.
He turned toward his mother, wrapping his arms around her frail shoulders, pulling her tight against his chest.
And over his mother’s shoulder, his gray eyes met mine.
Soft.
May you like
Relieved.
Unbroken.
