Chapter 3 - The Ghost of Silas Romano
The dust settled, filling the ruined kitchen with a suffocating, chalky haze.
Silas Romano stepped through the blown-out wall, his white overcoat immaculate against the destruction. He looked older than the rumors suggested, his silver hair slicked back, but the cruel, calculated intelligence in his eyes was unmistakable.
Six heavily armed men flanked him, their rifles leveled at us.
“Lorenzo DeMarco,” Silas smiled. His voice was a raspy, damaged whisper. “You look exactly like your mother.”
Lorenzo stood up slowly, pushing me behind him. His gun was still drawn, but he didn't fire. He was calculating the odds, and they were terrible.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” Lorenzo said coldly.
“Your father was a terrible shot,” Silas replied, tapping the jagged scar on his cheek. “He missed the artery by an inch. I’ve spent twelve years in hiding, watching you build an empire that rightfully belongs to me.”
Silas turned his gaze toward my husband, who was still cowering near the swinging doors.
“Eric. Have you secured the item?” Silas asked.
Eric scrambled forward, pointing a trembling finger at my father.
“He has it! Walter has the ring!”
Silas looked at my father, who was leaning heavily on his cane behind the steel counter.
“Hand it over, old man,” Silas demanded. “And I’ll let your daughter live.”
“Don't do it, Dad,” I warned, stepping out from behind Lorenzo. “He’s going to kill us anyway.”
Silas chuckled, a dry, hollow sound. “The baker’s daughter has teeth. How refreshing.”
He snapped his fingers.
Two of his men lunged forward, grabbing Lorenzo by the arms. Lorenzo fought viciously, breaking one man’s nose with a brutal headbutt, but the sheer numbers overwhelmed him. They wrestled his gun away and forced him to his knees on the glass-covered floor.
“Stop!” I screamed, rushing forward, but another guard grabbed me by the hair, yanking me backward.
“Becky!” my father cried out, dropping his cane.
Dad reached into his cardigan pocket. He pulled out the heavy silver signet ring.
“Take it,” Dad pleaded, his hands shaking as he held it out to Silas. “Just let her go.”
Silas walked forward and took the ring. He examined it under the flickering fluorescent kitchen lights, running his thumb over the engraved wolf and swords.
“Beautiful,” Silas murmured. “The final piece of the puzzle. With this, the Commission will have undeniable proof that the DeMarco family broke the sacred oath. Your entire syndicate will be dismantled by morning, Lorenzo.”
“You’re a coward, Silas,” Lorenzo spat, blood dripping from a cut on his forehead. “You couldn't beat my father, so you waited until he died to steal his legacy.”
Silas smiled thinly. “History is written by the survivors, boy.”
He turned to his men.
“Kill them all. Leave the husband. We still need him to sign over the bakery deeds to launder the transition funds.”
My blood turned to ice.
The guards raised their rifles.
I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the end.
But the gunshot that echoed through the kitchen didn't come from Silas’s men.
It came from the alley.
The guard holding Lorenzo suddenly dropped, a bullet hole perfectly centered in his forehead.
“Sniper!” Silas yelled, diving behind the steel prep counter just as a second guard was hit.
Chaos erupted.
“Down!” Lorenzo roared, grabbing my arm and pulling me to the floor as Silas’s men fired wildly out into the alley.
Matteo burst through the swinging doors from the main restaurant, holding a submachine gun. He laid down a suppressing fire that forced Silas and his remaining men to scramble toward the blown-out wall.
“Boss, the cavalry is here!” Matteo yelled over the deafening noise.
Three more of Lorenzo’s black SUVs careened into the alley, ramming Silas’s vehicles out of the way. Lorenzo’s reinforcements poured out, returning fire with lethal precision.
Silas realized he had lost the element of surprise.
“Fall back!” Silas ordered his men.
He didn't look back as he sprinted toward the last remaining functional SUV in the alley.
But Eric didn't make it.
As my husband tried to follow his boss, Matteo shot him in the leg.
Eric screamed, collapsing onto the ruined tile floor, clutching his bleeding thigh.
The remaining Romano guards laid down cover fire and managed to drag Silas into their SUV, tearing off down the alley and disappearing into the night.
The kitchen fell silent, save for the groans of the wounded.
Lorenzo stood up, his chest heaving. He walked over to where Eric was writhing on the floor.
Lorenzo didn't pull his gun. He simply stood over my husband, looking at him with absolute disgust.
“Please,” Eric whimpered, holding his bleeding leg. “Please, DeMarco, I’ll tell you everything. I’ll tell you where Silas is going.”
“I already know where he’s going,” Lorenzo said coldly. “He’s going to the Commission.”
Lorenzo turned back to me.
“Are you hurt?” he asked again, his eyes immediately finding mine.
“No,” I said, rushing over to help my father up from the floor. “Dad, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Becky,” Dad wheezed, leaning heavily on me.
Lorenzo looked at my father, a profound respect returning to his gaze.
“You risked your life to keep that ring safe, Walter,” Lorenzo said softly. “You saved my mother’s legacy. I am in your debt.”
“You don't owe me anything, son,” Dad smiled weakly.
“He has the ring, Lorenzo,” I pointed out, the panic returning to my voice. “Silas has the proof. He’s going to destroy your family.”
Lorenzo looked at the blood on the floor, then at me.
A slow, dark smile touched the corners of his mouth.
“No, he isn't,” Lorenzo said.
Answer one.
Lorenzo wasn't panicked about Silas having the ring.
Open two. Why? And what was Lorenzo really planning?
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Lorenzo reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.
He pulled out a heavy silver signet ring.
It was engraved with a wolf and two crossed swords. It was completely identical to the one Silas had just stolen.
“Because,” Lorenzo said smoothly, tossing the ring slightly in his hand, “the ring your father gave Silas was a fake.”
I stared at him, completely bewildered. “But… Dad gave it to him. Dad pulled it out of his pocket.”
“I swapped them,” Lorenzo said.
“When?” I demanded.
“When I helped your father up from the floor during the first shootout,” Lorenzo admitted, not looking entirely guilty. “I noticed the shape of it in his cardigan pocket. I’ve carried a replica of my mother’s ring for ten years, hoping one day I’d find the real one.”
He looked at my father.
“I didn't trust you yet, Walter. I apologize. But swapping it saved our lives. Silas thinks he won.”
My father started laughing. A genuine, hearty laugh that I hadn't heard since before his stroke.
“You’re exactly like your mother, Lorenzo,” Dad chuckled. “She was a sneaky one, too.”
Lorenzo smiled, but the warmth quickly vanished from his eyes as he looked down at Eric.
“Matteo,” Lorenzo ordered. “Take the trash to the warehouse. Get every piece of information out of him regarding Silas’s operations. Then lose him.”
“No, wait!” Eric screamed as Matteo dragged him toward the door. “Rebecca! Tell him to stop! I’m your husband!”
I looked at Eric. The man who had stolen my bakery, locked me in a room, and sold me out to a mafia boss.
“I want a divorce, Eric,” I said coldly.
I didn't look back as Matteo dragged him away.
Lorenzo stepped closer to me. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by a heavy, dangerous reality.
“Silas is going to realize the ring is a fake by morning,” Lorenzo said, his voice dropping to a low, serious register. “When he does, he will come for the real one. And he will come for you and your father, because you are the only witnesses left who can testify to how my mother really died.”
“What are you saying?” I asked, my heart hammering.
“I’m saying you can't go back to the bakery. You can't go to a hotel. You belong to me now.”
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He didn't mean it as a threat. He meant it as absolute protection.
“I’m taking you home, Rebecca.”
