Chapter 5 - The Silver Rosary
I stared at the black silk ribbon resting on the crisp white duvet.
In the old country, leaving a mourning ribbon on a bed wasn't just a threat. It was a promise. It meant the grave had already been dug.
I snatched the empty glass vial from the rug and sprinted back downstairs, my lungs burning. When I burst into the parlor, Luca had laid Teresa on the velvet sofa. Her breathing was shallow, her skin terrifyingly pale, slick with cold sweat.
"The pills!" Luca yelled, holding his hand out. "Give them to me!"
"They're gone!" I shouted, dropping to my knees beside the couch. I shoved the glossy white mints and the glass vial into his hand. "Someone swapped her heart medication for breath mints. I found this vial on the floor. And a mourning ribbon on her bed."
Luca stared at the mints, utter fury contorting his features. "Vanessa. She went upstairs to 'freshen up' right before she came into the dining room to cause the scene with the cake."
"She wanted the stress of the argument to trigger a heart episode," I realized, the sheer cruelty of the plan making me sick. "And without her pills, she wouldn't survive it."
"Marco!" Luca bellowed.
The massive security chief rushed in.
"We need a doctor. Now," Luca ordered. "Call Dr. Rossi. Tell him if he isn't through the gates in ten minutes, I'll burn his clinic down."
"Sir, the gates are compromised," Marco said, his voice grim. "Three black SUVs just pulled up outside the perimeter wall. They're Bellini men. Heavily armed. They haven't breached yet, but they're cutting the external phone lines."
Luca didn't blink. "Use the encrypted satellite phone. Get the doctor here via the underground service tunnel. And where is Hannah's family?"
"The armored car just pulled into the garage," Marco confirmed.
Relief flooded my chest. A moment later, the parlor doors opened, and my mother limped into the room, leaning heavily on a cane, her face pale with confusion. Peeking out from behind her legs was my five-year-old son, Leo.
He was wearing his Spider-Man pajamas, clutching a battered stuffed bear. His big brown eyes took in the lavish room, the guards with guns, and finally landed on me.
"Mommy!" he cried, running across the Persian rug.
I caught him, pulling his warm, small body into my chest. I buried my face in his hair, breathing in the scent of baby shampoo and sleep.
"It's okay, baby," I whispered, fighting back tears. "Mommy's right here."
Luca watched us for a fraction of a second, an unreadable emotion crossing his face, before turning his attention back to his mother. He grabbed a throw pillow and elevated her legs, checking her pulse.
Leo pulled back from my shoulder, looking around the room with innocent curiosity. His eyes landed on the massive portrait of Luca's father hanging above the fireplace.
"I know that man," Leo said clearly.
The room went dead silent.
Luca slowly turned his head, looking at my five-year-old son. "What did you say?"
"Leo, shh," my mother said nervously from the doorway.
"I know him," Leo insisted, pointing a chubby finger at the painting of the late Mafia don. "He's the man from the playground."
I felt the blood freeze in my veins. "Leo, sweetheart, that's impossible. That man died a long time ago. Before you could remember."
"No, he didn't," Leo said stubbornly, digging into the pocket of his pajama pants. He pulled out a small, shiny object and held it up in his palm. "He gave me this today. At the park. When Grandma was sleeping on the bench."
Luca crossed the room in two strides and dropped to one knee in front of my son. He held out his large, calloused hand.
Leo gently dropped the object into Luca's palm.
I gasped.
It was a heavy, ornate silver rosary. But the crucifix at the bottom wasn't Jesus. It was a beautifully carved silver raven—the private insignia of the Moretti family’s highest-ranking enforcer.
"My father's rosary," Luca whispered, his voice cracking. He looked up at me, his eyes wide with a terrifying realization. "It went missing the night he died."
"Who gave this to him?" I asked, my voice trembling, looking at my mother. "Mom, who was at the park?"
My mother looked terrified. "Hannah, I swear, I only dozed off for a minute. The pain medication makes me drowsy. When I woke up, Leo was playing in the sandbox, and a man was walking away. A tall man. With a severe limp."
Luca stood up slowly, the silver rosary dangling from his fingers. The chain caught the light of the chandelier, flashing like a warning beacon.
"My father’s most trusted enforcer walked with a limp," Luca said, his voice going dangerously soft. "His name was Elias. We thought he died in the car crash with my father and your husband. His body was burned beyond recognition."
"If Elias is alive," Marco said from the door, drawing his weapon, "then whose body did we bury?"
Before anyone could answer, the massive crystal chandelier above us flickered violently, hummed with a surge of electricity, and then shattered.
Every light in the mansion instantly went pitch black.
The backup generators didn't kick in.
"They cut the main lines!" Marco yelled in the dark. "Protect the boss! Protect the widow!"
In the terrifying darkness, a heavy, slow, rhythmic sound echoed from the grand hallway just outside the parlor doors.
Thump. Drag. Thump. Drag.
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Footsteps. Someone walking with a severe limp.
And they were already inside the house.
