Chapter 4 - THE STOLEN SILVER ROSARY
I turned my gaze to Bianca. The delicate silver beads rested against her collarbone, catching the light.
“Where did you get that necklace?” I demanded.
Bianca’s hand flew to her chest, her fingers covering the silver cross. The smug confidence she had worn just moments ago faltered. “It was a gift.”
“From who?” I took a step toward her. The timid, accommodating wife Matteo had molded for seven years was gone.
“From me,” Matteo intervened, stepping between us. He blocked my view of Bianca. “Leave her out of this, Sophia. This is between you and me.”
“You gave your mistress my father’s rosary?” My voice shook, not from tears, but from a deep, awakening rage.
“It’s not just a rosary,” Lucia said, standing up from the head of the table. Despite her age, her presence commanded the room. The twenty-four relatives sitting around the table were completely silent, watching the dynasty crumble over dessert. “Sophia, look closely at the beads.”
I moved past Matteo, ignoring his warning glare. I walked right up to Bianca. She tried to step back, but she was trapped against the heavy mahogany doorframe.
“Take it off,” I said.
“Matteo,” Bianca whimpered, looking at him for help.
“Give it to her,” Matteo muttered, rubbing his temples. He looked exhausted, the confident boss suddenly realizing he had lost control of his own dining room.
Bianca unclasped the necklace with trembling fingers and dropped it into my palm.
The silver was heavy. I rolled the beads between my thumb and forefinger. They weren’t smooth. They were engraved. Each bead had tiny, microscopic numbers etched into the metal.
“Coordinates,” an older cousin at the end of the table whispered.
I looked at Lucia. “Coordinates to what?”
“To the Palermo accounts,” Lucia said softly. “The money your father supposedly stole. But he didn't steal it, did he, Matteo? He hid it. To protect it from you.”
Matteo slammed his hands on the table. “He was a thief! He was trying to ruin this family!”
“He was trying to save my mother and me!” I shouted back.
“And look where it got him,” Matteo sneered, the mask completely falling away.
The cruelty in his words hit me like a physical blow. But before the shock could fully settle, Bianca let out a bitter, mocking laugh.
“You think Matteo is the villain here?” Bianca looked at me, her eyes flashing with a desperate kind of triumph. “You really are blind, Sophia.”
She reached into her designer purse and pulled out a small, velvet jewelry box.
“Matteo didn't want the Palermo accounts for himself,” Bianca said. “He needed the money to pay off a debt. A debt to my family.”
She flipped the velvet box open.
Inside wasn't a ring. It was a man’s gold pocket watch.
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Lucia gasped, clutching her chest. “Where did you get my husband’s watch?”
Bianca smiled. “He gave it to my father thirty years ago. As collateral. Because, Nonna Lucia, your late husband is the one who ordered the hit on Sophia’s father.”
