Chapter 2 - THE SILVER LOCKET IN THE GRAY HOODIE
Caleb’s words hung in the air like shattered glass.
I couldn't breathe. The curved red leather booth felt like it was closing in on me.
Brandon was at Mom’s funeral.
Five years ago, Brandon hadn't been the charming real estate agent who spilled coffee on me in a coffee shop. He hadn't been a stranger. He had been standing over my mother’s grave, talking to my twelve-year-old brother, giving him her necklace.
“Caleb,” I whispered, my voice shaking so violently I barely recognized it. “Why didn't you tell me?”
Caleb wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Because he said if I told you, you’d be scared. He said Mom owed some bad people a lot of money, and if I didn't keep the secret, those people would come take you away from me.”
My heart stopped.
I had spent the last five years trying to protect my brother from the world, and he had spent those same five years terrified he was going to lose me to some invisible debt our mother had supposedly left behind.
“So when he bumped into you at the coffee shop three years ago,” Caleb sniffled, “he told me it was a sign. That he was going to marry you, and then the bad people wouldn't be able to hurt us anymore. Because he’d pay the debt when I turned eighteen.”
I felt physically sick.
Every romantic gesture. Every patient smile. Every time he had held me when I was exhausted from working two jobs. It was all a calculated, monstrous lie to gain control of my family before Caleb reached legal adulthood.
Alessandro Moretti was staring at the silver heart pendant resting on the table. His dark eyes were cold, calculating, and dangerously focused.
“Marco,” Alessandro said quietly.
“Yes, boss.”
“Get my uncle on the phone. Tell him to meet me at the warehouse in twenty minutes.”
Marco nodded, pulling out his cell phone and stepping a few feet away to make the call.
I looked at Alessandro, panic rising in my chest. “Your uncle? Victor? What does your family have to do with my mother?”
Alessandro didn't answer immediately. He picked up the silver heart necklace by its delicate chain. He turned it over.
On the back of the small silver heart, there was an engraving.
I had seen it a thousand times. It was a date. October 14th. I had always assumed it was the day my parents met.
But Alessandro didn't look at the date. He pressed his thumb against a tiny, almost invisible clasp on the side of the heart.
With a soft click, the silver heart popped open.
It was a locket.
I gasped. “I never knew that opened.”
Alessandro looked inside the locket. His jaw tightened so hard I could see a muscle jumping in his cheek.
He slowly turned the locket around so I could see what was inside.
There was no picture.
There was a tiny, folded piece of microfiche film.
“My uncle Victor manages the family’s offshore accounts,” Alessandro explained, his voice low and devoid of emotion. “Five years ago, three million dollars went missing from a secure fund. Victor told me he was investigating an embezzlement scheme by one of our accountants. The accountant disappeared before we could find him.”
He looked at me, his dark eyes intense.
“But looking at this,” Alessandro continued, “I don't think the accountant stole the money. I think my uncle stole it, and used your mother to hide it.”
“My mother was a nurse!” I cried, shaking my head frantically. “She worked at County General! She didn't know anything about offshore accounts or the mafia!”
“She didn't need to know,” Alessandro said softly. “She just needed to have access to something Victor couldn't reach without raising suspicion.”
He carefully pulled the microfiche film from the locket and held it up to the light of the chandelier.
“These are routing numbers,” Alessandro deduced grimly. “Victor probably set up a trust in your brother’s name when he was a minor. A trust that couldn't be touched until Caleb turned eighteen. And he needed a guardian signature—your mother’s—to set it up.”
It all made a terrifying, sick sense.
My mother had been battling cancer. She had been desperate for money to ensure Caleb and I would be okay after she was gone. If Victor had approached her, offered her a small cut of the money just to sign a few papers, she might have done it out of pure desperation.
“But then she died before the money could be accessed,” Alessandro finished the thought. “And you became the legal guardian.”
“So Brandon,” I breathed, the horror washing over me completely, “Brandon was working for Victor. He was sent to marry me so he could control the trust once Caleb turned eighteen.”
“And when you proved too stubborn or too protective,” Alessandro noted, glancing at Caleb, “Brandon tried to isolate the boy, manipulate him into signing away his rights directly, and convince him you didn't want him.”
I looked at Caleb. He was staring at the locket, tears streaming down his face.
“I’m sorry, Jess,” Caleb sobbed. “I should have told you. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, buddy,” I wept, pulling him into a tight hug, burying my face in his gray hoodie. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”
Alessandro watched us, the hard, impenetrable mask of the mafia boss slipping just a fraction. He looked down at the ruined bourbon stain on his trousers, then up at me.
“Marco,” Alessandro commanded.
Marco snapped his phone shut and walked back to the table. “Victor is on his way to the warehouse, boss. He thinks it’s a routine drop.”
“Good.” Alessandro stood up, towering over the booth. He looked at me, offering his hand once again.
“Jessica,” Alessandro said softly, “I asked you to trust me earlier. I am asking you again.”
I looked at his outstretched hand. The tattoos. The scar. The terrifying power he wielded effortlessly.
But I also remembered the way he had asked if I had somewhere safe to go. The way he had ordered food for me without demanding anything in return.
I placed my trembling hand in his. His grip was warm and steady.
May you like
“What are we going to do?” I asked.
“We are going to go to the warehouse,” Alessandro said, pulling me gently to my feet. “And we are going to introduce my uncle to the woman he tried to destroy.”
