Chapter 10 - THE ENEMY AT THE DOOR AND THE CHILD'S DRAWING
The name hung in the air like a live grenade.
Dante Rossi. The head of the Rossi crime syndicate. The most ruthless, terrifying man in the Midwest. And he was standing on our front porch.
Luca didn't panic. He straightened his jacket, his dark eyes instantly hardening into the cold, impenetrable gaze of a mafia boss.
"Marco," Luca said quietly. "Take my mother upstairs. Now."
"I'm not going anywhere," Teresa said, her voice shaking but defiant. She gripped her cane, her knuckles white. "If Dante is here, it's because of me."
"Mom, please," Luca urged, stepping between her and the door. "If he came here personally, it means he knows something. Let me handle it."
"No," Teresa insisted, her eyes flashing. "I hid for thirty-five years. I'm not hiding today."
The brass knocker slammed again. Three heavy, impatient strikes.
Luca sighed, realizing he couldn't move her. He looked at me. "Hannah, stand behind my mother. Keep her steady."
I quickly moved behind Teresa, placing a supportive hand on her frail shoulder. I could feel her trembling beneath the thick wool of her cardigan.
Luca turned to Marco. They didn't need to speak. The silent communication between the brothers was absolute. Marco drew his weapon, holding it down at his side, hidden by the line of his leg, and took his position just behind Luca’s right shoulder.
Luca reached out and pulled the heavy oak doors open.
Dante Rossi stood on the threshold.
He was a massive man, in his late sixties, with iron-gray hair swept back from a face heavily scarred by decades of violence. He wore a tailored black overcoat, the collar turned up against the morning chill. He was flanked by four massive, heavily armed guards.
Dante didn't look at Luca first. His sharp, predatory eyes bypassed the Boss and landed directly on Teresa.
"Teresa," Dante said. His voice was a deep, gravelly rumble that seemed to vibrate in my chest.
"Dante," Teresa replied, her chin held high despite the terror in her eyes.
Luca stepped forward, physically blocking Dante's view of his mother.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Dante?" Luca asked coldly, his tone perfectly measured. "We don't usually conduct business on each other's doorsteps without a phone call."
Dante finally looked at Luca. "This isn't business, Moretti. This is family."
Marco tensed beside Luca. I felt Teresa's breath hitch beneath my hand.
Did he know? Did Dante know that Marco was his lost son?
"I don't have any family of yours," Luca said smoothly.
"Don't play games with me, boy," Dante snarled, stepping closer so he was inches from Luca's face. "I got a phone call thirty minutes ago. From Silvio Bellini. Right before his daughter was blown to pieces on your property."
Luca didn't blink. "Silvio is a coward. Whatever lie he told you to cover his own tracks—"
"He didn't tell me a lie," Dante interrupted, reaching into the pocket of his overcoat.
Marco’s gun twitched upward, ready to fire.
But Dante didn't pull out a weapon. He pulled out a crumpled, tear-stained piece of paper. He shoved it into Luca’s chest.
"Silvio told me Vanessa found something in this house," Dante growled. "Something belonging to me. He said she managed to get it out of the estate before she died, and she mailed it to my compound."
Luca looked down at the paper.
He frowned in deep confusion.
I leaned over Teresa's shoulder to look.
It wasn't a birth certificate. It wasn't an adoption record.
It was a child's drawing.
Drawn in crayon, on cheap construction paper. It depicted a small, stick-figure boy holding hands with a larger stick-figure man. Above the boy, written in jagged, clumsy letters, was the name: Nico.
Luca looked up, genuinely bewildered. "Dante, what is this?"
Dante's eyes burned with a mixture of rage and desperate grief.
"That drawing belongs to my grandson," Dante rasped, his voice cracking. "Nico. My youngest daughter's boy."
The tension in the foyer shifted instantly. This had nothing to do with Marco.
"Your grandson?" Luca asked carefully. "Dante, I haven't seen your grandson."
"Don't lie to me!" Dante roared, spit flying from his lips. His guards instinctively reached for their weapons, but Dante threw up a hand to stop them. "Nico was kidnapped from his preschool playground three days ago. We've been tearing the city apart looking for him. The police have nothing. And then Silvio calls me and tells me his daughter found Nico's drawing inside your mansion!"
The pieces slammed together in my mind with sickening clarity.
Vanessa.
She had kidnapped the heir to the Rossi family three days ago. That was her ultimate leverage. If she couldn't steal the Moretti empire from the inside, she was going to use the Rossi grandson to extort money from Dante, or use him as a bargaining chip to force the Rossis to destroy Luca.
"Dante, I swear on my life," Luca said, his voice dropping to a dead serious, honest tone. "I did not take your grandson. If Vanessa brought that drawing into my house, she did it without my knowledge."
Dante stared at Luca, his chest heaving. He was a ruthless killer, but right now, he was just a terrified grandfather.
"If my boy is dead..." Dante whispered, tears welling in his furious eyes. "I will kill every person in this house. Starting with your mother."
"He's not dead," Marco said suddenly.
Everyone turned to Marco.
Marco stepped forward, looking directly at the man who was secretly his biological father.
"Vanessa wouldn't kill leverage," Marco explained calmly, his tactical mind taking over. "If she kidnapped the boy, she needed him alive to bargain with. She wouldn't keep him in the mansion; there's too much staff. She'd keep him somewhere isolated. Somewhere she had total control."
Dante looked at Marco, clearly impressed by the enforcer's logic, entirely unaware he was looking at his own flesh and blood.
"Where?" Dante demanded.
Marco looked at me.
"Hannah," Marco asked quietly. "Vanessa's car... the one that exploded. Where was she coming from when she drove onto the access road?"
My eyes widened as the memory hit me.
"The boathouse," I gasped. "She met me at the abandoned boathouse on the lake. But Marco... she didn't just walk out of the woods. She came from underneath the old dock."
Luca’s eyes flared with realization. "The old smuggler's cellar. Under the boathouse floorboards."
Luca turned to Dante. "Come with us."
Luca didn't wait for an answer. He sprinted out the front door, Marco right behind him. Dante and his guards hesitated for only a second before running after them.
"Mrs. Moretti, stay here," I said, my heart pounding.
"Go," Teresa ordered, leaning heavily on her cane. "Make sure they don't kill each other."
I ran out the door, jumping into the back of Luca's SUV just as Marco slammed the gas pedal to the floor. We tore across the estate lawns, tearing up the pristine grass, heading straight for the lake. Dante's black cars followed close behind.
We skidded to a halt near the smoking, blackened crater where Vanessa's car had exploded an hour ago.
Luca, Marco, and Dante ran toward the dilapidated boathouse. I followed, my breath burning in my lungs.
They rushed inside the dark, dusty structure. Marco immediately went to the center of the room, kicking aside old tarps and rusted tools.
He found a heavy iron ring set into the floorboards.
Marco and Luca grabbed the ring together and heaved. The heavy wooden trapdoor groaned and swung open, revealing a dark, concrete staircase leading down into the damp earth.
"Nico!" Dante bellowed down the stairs, his voice echoing in the darkness.
There was a moment of agonizing silence.
May you like
Then, a small, terrified voice echoed back.
"Nonno?"
