Chapter 6 - THE FADED PHOTOGRAPH
Denial is a physical thing. It’s a cold sweat, a ringing in the ears, a desperate refusal of the brain to process what the eyes are seeing.
“You’re wrong,” I stammered, pulling my worn leather wallet from my tote bag. My fingers fumbled with the zipper. “I have a picture. One picture of my mother. She wasn’t involved in any of this. She was a librarian. She died of pneumonia when I was three.”
I pulled out the creased, faded Polaroid I had cherished my entire life. It showed a beautiful woman with dark, tired eyes, holding a baby. She was wearing a simple white dress, sitting on a park bench.
I shoved the photo into Luca’s chest. “Look at her. Does she look like a mafia queen to you?”
Luca took the photo gently. He studied it under the harsh light of the penthouse chandelier. His thumb brushed over the bottom corner of the image.
“Look closer, Emily,” he said gently, turning the photo toward me.
I looked. I had stared at this photo a million times, but I had always focused on her smile. I had never looked at her neck.
Resting against her collarbone, partially hidden by the lace of her dress, was the wooden rosary with the chipped silver cross.
My knees finally gave out. Luca caught me before I hit the floor, easing me onto the edge of the leather sofa.
“David knew,” I whispered, tears finally breaking free. “He knew my whole life was a lie, and he never told me.”
“He was protecting you,” Luca said softly, sitting beside me. “If anyone in my family had known Salvatore Moretti’s daughter was alive in Boston, you would have been hunted down. David found out, and he used Paul’s heist to secure your future. He took the money and hid it for you.”
Marcus paced the room, running a hand over his bald head. “Boss, if Paul knows who she is, he’s not going to stop. He’s going to come for her, and he’s going to use the kid as leverage.”
“Then we find the storage unit before he does,” Luca said, his voice hardening into granite. He picked up the faded blue ticket. “Marcus, look at the serial number. It starts with ‘SS’. That’s South Station. The old long-term lockers in the basement.”
“They decommissioned those lockers two years ago,” Marcus said, frowning. “Right after the city took over the building renovations.”
“Then the contents were moved to the city’s holding facility,” Luca said, standing up. “We need to make a call to the commissioner. I want full access to that facility tonight.”
Suddenly, the penthouse intercom buzzed. It was a sharp, grating sound that made all three of us jump.
Marcus walked to the security panel by the door and hit the video feed. His face drained of color.
“Boss,” Marcus said tightly. “You need to see this.”
Luca and I rushed to the screen.
Standing in the opulent hallway of the penthouse level, looking directly into the security camera, was Dennis. My former manager from the restaurant. His face was bruised, and he looked terrified.
But it wasn’t Dennis that made my heart stop.
Dennis was holding a master keycard to the penthouse—the one he was supposed to surrender when Luca fired him. And standing directly behind Dennis, pressing the barrel of a suppressed pistol into the manager’s spine, was the man in the charcoal coat.
Paul Romano looked up at the camera and smiled. It was a cold, dead smile that looked terrifyingly like Luca’s, but entirely devoid of soul.
“Hello, little brother,” Paul’s voice crackled through the intercom speaker. “Open the door. Or I blow Dennis’s brains all over your expensive wallpaper, and then I use his keycard to come in anyway.”
I gasped, covering my mouth with both hands. Lily was asleep just down the hall.
Luca didn’t blink. He reached out and pressed the intercom button.
May you like
“You’re dead, Paul,” Luca said evenly.
“Not yet,” Paul replied through the speaker. “But the Moretti girl will be. And if you don’t let me in, the kid goes with her. Open the door, Luca. Let’s have a family reunion.”
