Chapter 4 - THE ROSARY
The ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the living room sounded like a hammer striking an anvil.
I stared at the silver pocket watch in my hand, the engraved name Thomas Parker blurring behind a sudden wall of tears. My father’s watch. He was wearing this the night he was killed. The police told my mother his valuables had been stolen before the ambulance arrived.
For twenty years, this watch had been missing. And now, Luca Moretti was telling me his fiancée—the woman who had just framed me in front of the Chicago mafia—had brought me into his life on purpose.
“Explain,” I demanded, my voice shaking with an anger I didn't know I possessed. “Right now.”
Luca carried Mia to the plush velvet sofa, gently setting her down and covering her with a heavy wool blanket. The little girl was exhausted, her eyes drooping heavily, but her tiny hand kept a death grip on Luca’s sleeve.
He sat beside her, gently prying her fingers loose. “You’re safe now, Mia. Sleep.”
He waited until her breathing evened out, then stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the rain-soaked city.
“Three years ago, my brother Leo discovered someone was embezzling millions from the syndicate’s offshore accounts,” Luca began, his voice low and tight. “He was getting close to a name. That night, he fell down the stairs. Everyone said he was drunk. But I knew Leo. He didn't drink when he was working a ledger.”
“The drawing,” I said, looking back toward the bedroom. “Mia saw Vanessa push him.”
“Vanessa was Leo’s girlfriend at the time,” Luca said, turning to face me. The revelation made my stomach turn. “After Leo died, Vanessa came to me. Grieving. Devastated. She said Mia had died in a car crash while on a trip with her nanny. I was shattered. I took Vanessa in to protect her. A year later, she brought me a recording.”
My injured hand throbbed as I gripped the watch tighter. “A fake recording?”
“Yes. A recording of me, supposedly ordering a hit on a rival boss. It was perfectly spliced. She told me if I didn't marry her and make her the leading lady of the Moretti family, she would play it for Donatello. The syndicate would have executed me within the hour.”
“So you played along,” I whispered, realizing the absolute hell this man had been living in. “You were trapped.”
“I’ve been trying to find the original tapes. The raw audio files she used to cut the fakes,” Luca said, pacing the floor. “I knew she kept them hidden somewhere in the mansion. But I could never find them.”
“The music room,” I said suddenly, stepping forward. “The locked cabinet. Luca, when she caught me today, she was opening a hidden panel behind the sheet music storage. There’s a safe in there.”
Luca stopped pacing. His dark eyes locked onto mine. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. That’s where she was doctoring the tapes.” I looked down at my father’s watch. “But why me? Why did she hire me?”
“Two weeks ago, I found that watch in Vanessa’s private wall safe in her dressing room. I had a locksmith break it open while she was at a gala,” Luca said gently. “I recognized your father’s name from your employment file. I didn't know how it connected to Vanessa, but I knew she was holding it as a trophy. I took it, hoping to give it to you when I finally got you out of the house.”
“She kept the watch of a man killed in a hit-and-run twenty years ago.” My voice was hollow. “She killed him. She killed my father.”
“I don't know why, Grace. But she likes to keep leverage. She likes to keep trophies.” Luca ran a hand through his damp hair. “But taking the watch was a mistake. She noticed it was missing today. That’s why she escalated. That’s why she framed you tonight. She knows I’m onto her, and she’s cleaning house. Tonight is the syndicate’s quarterly meeting in the mansion’s basement. All the bosses are there.”
He looked at the clock. 12:45 AM.
“She’s going to make her move tonight,” Luca said grimly. “With me disgraced for bringing a ‘thief’ into the house, she’s going to present her fake evidence to Donatello and take over the family assets.”
“We have to stop her. We have to get the real tapes.”
“No. I have to get them,” Luca said, reaching into his soaked jacket and pulling out a heavy, matte-black pistol. He checked the magazine with terrifying efficiency. “You stay here with Mia. Lock the door. If I’m not back by sunrise, take her to the police precinct on 5th Avenue and ask for Detective Miller. Only Miller.”
“Luca, no,” I stepped in front of him. “You don't know the code to that safe. I saw her type it in. I know the rhythm of the keys. I can get it open.”
“Absolutely not,” he growled, stepping into my space. He was a foot taller than me, radiating danger, but I refused to back down. “I am not letting you walk back into a house full of armed mobsters.”
“She killed my father, Luca! She orphaned your niece!” I shoved a finger against his chest, tears of fury spilling hot down my cheeks. “I am not hiding in a penthouse while that woman walks away with everything. We go together.”
He stared down at me. The air between us cracked with tension. For a moment, the hardened Mafia boss stripped away, leaving only a man looking at a woman with profound, desperate respect.
“You’re terrified,” he noted softly, looking at my trembling hands.
“Yes,” I breathed. “Are you?”
“Terrified you’ll get hurt,” he admitted. He reached out, his warm, rough fingers gently wiping a tear from my cheek. It was an achingly tender gesture that made my breath hitch. “If we do this, Grace, you don't leave my sight. Understood?”
“Understood.”
An hour later, we were standing in the freezing rain at the edge of the Moretti estate’s massive gardens. The mansion was ablaze with light. Dozens of black SUVs were parked in the circular driveway. The syndicate meeting was in full swing.
“The security detail is concentrated near the basement and the front doors,” Luca whispered, leading me through the thick hedges. “The west wing should be clear. The music room is on the second floor.”
We slipped through the kitchen entrance. The house was eerily silent upstairs, the heavy stone floors muffling our footsteps. I led Luca down the dark hallway, my heart in my throat, until we reached the heavy oak doors of the music room.
It was pitch black inside. Luca closed the doors behind us and turned on a small penlight, shielding the beam with his hand.
“Show me,” he whispered.
I hurried to the grand piano, pulling back the heavy velvet curtains behind it. I pressed my fingers against the oak paneling until I felt a slight ridge. I pushed hard, and the panel clicked open, revealing a digital keypad and a steel door.
“She typed a six-digit code,” I whispered, closing my eyes, visualizing her hand movements from this afternoon. “Top right, bottom left, middle... wait.”
I punched in the numbers. 1-7-5-9-0-3.
The keypad beeped green. The heavy steel door popped open.
Luca exhaled sharply. “Good girl.”
He reached inside the safe. He pulled out a stack of velvet jewelry boxes, tossing them aside, until he found a small, black hard drive and a stack of manila folders.
“This is it,” he said, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. “The raw audio files. The financial ledgers Leo was looking for.”
He shoved the drive into his pocket. As he pulled his hand out, something fell from the safe and clattered onto the hardwood floor.
I bent down to pick it up.
It was a delicate, silver rosary.
I froze. I knew this rosary. It had distinct sapphire beads. I had seen it every Sunday for my entire life.
“Grace?” Luca whispered, seeing the blood drain from my face. “What is it?”
“This is my mother’s,” I choked out, my injured hand trembling so hard the beads rattled. “She never takes this off. Why is this in Vanessa’s safe?”
May you like
Before Luca could answer, the cold metal barrel of a gun pressed sharply against the back of my neck.
“Because, Grace,” a woman’s voice whispered from the darkness behind me. “Your mother has been working for me since the day your father died.”
