Chapter 10 - THE POISONED GAVEL
The sunlight pouring through the dining room windows suddenly felt cold.
Emily stared at the black-and-white photograph. The judge’s face was unmistakable—Honorable Thomas Vance, a man known throughout Chicago for his supposed ironclad integrity. He was the linchpin of the federal RICO case that Luca had built against Arthur Bellini and Uncle Carlo.
If Vance was corrupt, the trial was a sham. Arthur and Carlo wouldn’t go to prison. They would walk free.
“Luca,” Emily whispered, her hands trembling as she handed him the photograph.
Luca’s relaxed, peaceful demeanor vanished in an instant. He took the photo, his eyes narrowing as he recognized the men sitting in the booth. The shadow of the mafia boss, which he had fought so hard to bury over the last six months, returned to his face like a dark, familiar mask.
“Where did this come from?” Luca demanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low octave.
“It was mixed in with the morning mail on the tray,” Emily said, her heart hammering against her ribs. “No return address.”
Luca turned the photograph over. Written on the back in elegant, cursive ink was a single sentence:
Checkmate, little brother. — Matteo.
“Matteo,” Luca growled, crushing the edge of the photograph in his fist.
“He’s alive?” Emily gasped. “I thought your men told you he bled out in the alley after the shootout at the hotel six months ago.”
“He’s a cockroach,” Luca spat, pacing the dining room floor. “He survived, went underground, and now he’s making his move. Matteo doesn’t want Arthur and Carlo in prison. He wants them back on the streets, so he can use Arthur’s muscle to take the syndicate back from me.”
“But you stepped down, Luca,” Emily argued frantically. “You went legitimate!”
“Matteo doesn’t care about legitimacy, Hannah. He cares about power,” Luca said, pulling a cell phone from his pocket. “If Judge Vance throws the case out tomorrow, Arthur and Carlo will walk out of that courthouse and immediately declare war on this house to finish what they started.”
Lily was still on the floor, happily playing with Barnaby the puppy, completely oblivious to the terror creeping back into her home.
Luca looked at his daughter, the fierce, protective instinct flaring in his eyes.
“Marco,” Luca barked into the phone as his head of security answered. “Put the estate on lockdown. Nobody in or out. And find out where Judge Vance is right now.”
Ten minutes later, Luca was strapping a shoulder holster over his tailored shirt in his private study.
Emily stood in the doorway, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
“You can’t go to the judge, Luca,” Emily warned. “If you threaten a federal judge the day before a mob trial, you’ll be arrested for witness tampering. You’ll go to prison, and Matteo wins without firing a shot.”
“If I don’t confront him, Arthur walks free tomorrow,” Luca countered, slipping a sleek handgun into the leather holster. “I will not let the men who murdered my wife walk the streets of my city.”
“There has to be another way to prove he’s dirty,” Emily insisted, stepping into the room. “A photograph isn’t enough. We need a paper trail. We need proof of the payoff.”
Luca paused, looking at Emily. Her sharp, analytical mind had saved him once before.
“Vance is arrogant,” Luca muttered, thinking aloud. “He wouldn’t take a direct wire transfer from Arthur. He’d use a shell company. A charity, maybe. Something untouchable.”
“What about the Bellini Foundation?” Emily suggested, her eyes widening as the memory surfaced. “Vanessa used to brag about it all the time. She said her father used the foundation’s ‘charitable donations’ to grease the wheels of local politics.”
Luca’s eyes lit up with a dangerous realization.
“The foundation’s financial ledgers are kept in a private vault at the Bellini Trust,” Luca said. “The same bank where Isabella hid the pawn ticket.”
“But we can’t just walk in there and ask for them,” Emily said. “Arthur still owns the bank, even from his jail cell.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Luca smirked, a cold, calculating expression. “Arthur’s assets were frozen by the feds when he was indicted. The bank is currently under the administration of a court-appointed trustee.”
Luca grabbed his suit jacket, throwing it over his shoulders.
“And I happen to know exactly who that trustee is,” Luca said. “Because I bought him three years ago.”
An hour later, Luca and Emily walked through the polished brass doors of the Bellini Trust building.
The bank felt entirely different than it had six months ago. The arrogant swagger of the Bellini employees was gone, replaced by a nervous, quiet tension. The empire was crumbling, and the rats were waiting to see which ship to jump to.
They were escorted immediately into a lavish, glass-walled corner office.
Sitting behind a massive mahogany desk was a nervous, sweating man in his fifties. The court-appointed trustee, Mr. Higgins.
“Mr. Moretti,” Higgins stammered, standing up so fast he nearly knocked over his coffee cup. “I… I wasn’t expecting you. I thought you stepped away from the… uh… the business.”
“I’m here as a concerned citizen, Higgins,” Luca said smoothly, sitting casually in one of the leather guest chairs. Emily stood silently behind him.
“Of course. How can I help you?” Higgins asked, pulling at his collar.
“I need the financial records for the Bellini Foundation for the last three years,” Luca demanded. “Specifically, I’m looking for any large, anonymous donations made to a charity or PAC associated with Honorable Thomas Vance.”
Higgins turned pale. “Mr. Moretti, those files are sealed by federal mandate. If I hand them over to you without a subpoena, I could be disbarred. I could go to prison!”
“If you don’t hand them over to me in the next five minutes, Higgins,” Luca said, leaning forward, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper, “I will personally make sure the FBI finds out about the two million dollars you embezzled from the teacher’s pension fund in 2021. The paperwork is sitting in an envelope on my desk at home.”
Higgins swallowed hard, terror flashing in his eyes. He knew Luca didn’t bluff.
“I’ll… I’ll get the files,” Higgins squeaked, scrambling out of his chair and rushing out of the office toward the vault.
Emily let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “You really have that paperwork on him?”
“No,” Luca smirked. “But guys like Higgins always have something to hide. You just have to push the right button.”
Five minutes later, Higgins returned, carrying a thick, red leather-bound ledger. He placed it on the desk with trembling hands.
“This is the master ledger for the foundation,” Higgins said. “I’ll leave you alone.” He practically ran out of the room.
Luca and Emily immediately opened the ledger, scanning the columns of dates, names, and massive sums of money.
“Look for Vance,” Luca instructed.
Emily ran her finger down the pages, her eyes scanning the tiny, meticulous handwriting.
“Here,” Emily gasped, stopping on a page dated six months ago, exactly one week before Isabella’s murder.
There was a line item for a $500,000 ‘charitable donation’.
May you like
But it wasn’t made to Judge Vance.
“The payee is listed as ‘M. Moretti’,” Emily read, her voice shaking as she looked up at Luca. “Luca… Arthur didn’t pay the judge. He paid Matteo. Matteo is the one buying the judge’s verdict tomorrow.”
