Chapter 6 - The Pawn in Silk
I took a sip of the warm chamomile tea, letting the heat steady my nerves before recounting every syllable of the argument I had witnessed in the cedar room.
“When Mrs. Hart pulled out the catalog inventory sheet,” I explained, “she told Vanessa that the recipe book had been flagged in the international auction registry because an original bill of sale was filed under the name Salvatore Moretti.”
Luca leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, listening with rapt attention.
“Vanessa was furious,” I continued. “She told Mrs. Hart that was impossible because her father, Arthur, had personally arranged the fire at the Brooklyn warehouse five years ago. She said Arthur had watched the building burn to ashes and confirmed no one could have survived that blaze.”
Luca’s jaw set into iron. “My father died believing his brother was murdered by rival gangs. Arthur Bellini orchestrated the hit so he could step in as my father’s sole advisor.”
“There’s more,” I said, wincing slightly as a cough caught in my chest. Luca immediately placed a steady hand behind my shoulder to support me.
“Take your time,” he murmured.
“Vanessa told Mrs. Hart that if Salvatore was alive, he would have come back for you immediately. But Mrs. Hart said the man who reclaimed the book didn't ask for money or vengeance. He only said one sentence before taking the journal.”
Luca’s breath hitched. “What sentence?”
“He said: ‘Tell the boy that Clara’s garden still blooms where the water meets the stone.’”
Luca froze completely. The color drained from his face, replaced by a look of sheer, stunned realization.
“Clara’s garden...” Luca whispered, his eyes wide. “The old stone cottage on the northern bluffs of the Hudson. My mother’s private retreat. Nobody in the syndicate knew about that property except my father, my mother... and Uncle Sal.”
Luca stood up abruptly, pacing toward the window overlooking the darkened valley.
“He’s alive. He’s been hiding in plain sight for five years, waiting for the Bellinis to make their fatal mistake.”
Suddenly, the red emergency beacon above the suite door flashed to life, bathing the room in a silent, pulsing crimson warning.
Luca’s phone buzzed violently on the nightstand. He grabbed it instantly.
“Daniel! Report!”
“Boss, we have multiple perimeter breaches at the north and east gates!” Daniel’s voice crackled through the speaker over the sound of distant gunfire. “Three black SUVs just rammed the outer barricades! It’s not a probing attack—they’re heavily armed mercenaries wearing unmarked tactical gear!”
“Arthur’s men,” Luca growled, pulling a sleek black semi-automatic pistol from a hidden compartment beneath the desk. “They know Arthur was detained. They’re coming to extract him and wipe out the estate’s command structure before dawn.”
“They’re heading straight for the main manor house!” Daniel yelled over the roar of an explosion echoing from the lower grounds.
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Luca racked the slide of his weapon with lethal efficiency, then turned to me. His eyes were blazing with protective fire.
“Hannah, we’re moving. Right now.”
