Chapter 5 - The Vault on 5th Avenue
“We are going to the bank?” I repeated, my voice rising in disbelief. “Lorenzo, Silas Romano is going to be there. He’s a murderer. We’ll be walking right into an ambush.”
Lorenzo took a slow sip of his espresso, his demeanor terrifyingly calm.
“He won't ambush us in the middle of the First National Bank at noon, Rebecca. It’s the most secure, highly surveilled building in the city. Silas operates in the shadows. He won't risk a public shootout with federal cameras watching.”
“You don't know that,” I argued. “He blew up a restaurant kitchen last night!”
“The restaurant was privately owned and located in a mob-controlled district,” Lorenzo countered smoothly. “The bank is federal territory. Even Silas isn't crazy enough to bring a war there.”
He stood up, buttoning his suit jacket.
“I need you to come with me because the safety deposit box is registered under a civilian alias. My mother didn't use her real name. She used your father’s.”
I froze. “My dad’s name?”
“Walter Hayes,” Lorenzo confirmed. “She set it up twenty years ago. She trusted him completely.”
“Then Dad should go,” I said, gripping the edge of the table.
“Your father is recovering from a stroke and survived a bombing twelve hours ago,” Lorenzo said firmly. “He is staying here, under guard. You have his power of attorney, correct?”
I swallowed hard. I did. When Dad got sick, we had filed the paperwork so I could manage his medical and financial affairs. Eric had used that same paperwork to illegally transfer the bakery, but the original power of attorney was still legally binding in my name.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Then you are the only one who can legally open that box,” Lorenzo said, holding out his hand. “I will not let anything happen to you. I promise.”
I looked at his outstretched hand. I looked at the dark ink of the tattoos wrapping around his knuckles. He was a dangerous man, but he was the only one standing between my family and absolute destruction.
I placed my hand in his.
We left the estate in a convoy of three armored black SUVs.
I rode in the center vehicle with Lorenzo. The tension in the car was thick enough to cut with a knife. Matteo sat in the passenger seat, his eyes constantly scanning the street mirrors.
“If Silas realizes the ring is a fake while he’s inside,” Lorenzo instructed me, “he might try to intercept us in the lobby. Do not speak to him. Do not make eye contact. You stay exactly one step behind me at all times.”
I nodded, my throat completely dry.
We pulled up to the imposing marble columns of the First National Bank downtown. It was 11:45 AM.
Lorenzo’s men fanned out, securing the perimeter before we even stepped out of the vehicle.
Lorenzo opened my door and offered me his arm. I took it, trying to project a confidence I didn't feel. We walked up the marble steps and pushed through the heavy revolving doors.
The bank lobby was bustling with businessmen and tellers. It was loud, chaotic, and seemingly normal.
But my eyes immediately caught him.
Standing near the private wealth management elevators, surrounded by four men in tailored suits, was Silas Romano.
He was wearing a pristine white overcoat.
He saw us the moment we walked in.
Silas didn't pull a weapon. Lorenzo was right. The federal cameras were too much of a risk.
Instead, Silas smiled. A cold, reptilian smile that made my blood run cold. He began walking directly toward us.
“Keep walking,” Lorenzo murmured to me, not breaking his stride.
Silas stepped into our path, blocking the way to the vault elevators.
“Lorenzo,” Silas greeted smoothly, his raspy voice carrying over the din of the lobby. “What a pleasant surprise. And you brought the baker’s daughter. Are we depositing cupcake profits today?”
“Move out of my way, Silas,” Lorenzo said, his voice dropping to a lethal, quiet register.
Silas chuckled, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out the silver signet ring—the fake one Dad had given him—and twirled it between his fingers.
“I had a very interesting morning, Lorenzo,” Silas said, his eyes narrowing. “I tried to open a certain box downstairs. But the key didn't quite fit the lock. Imagine my frustration.”
He stepped closer to Lorenzo. The two mafia bosses were mere inches apart.
“You played a clever trick, boy,” Silas whispered. “But you’re delaying the inevitable. Hand over the real ring right now, and I’ll let the girl walk out of here. If you don't, I’ll make sure her father doesn't live to see dinner.”
Lorenzo didn't flinch.
He leaned in, whispering directly into Silas’s ear.
“If you even breathe in the direction of her father,” Lorenzo promised softly, “I will peel the remaining skin off your face while you watch.”
Silas’s smile vanished. His eyes flashed with pure, unadulterated hatred.
“You have until midnight, DeMarco,” Silas spat. “After that, the truce is broken. I burn your city to the ground.”
Silas turned and walked toward the exit, his men flanking him.
I let out a shuddering breath, my knees suddenly feeling weak.
“Are you okay?” Lorenzo asked, instantly supporting my waist.
“He’s going to kill my dad,” I panicked, gripping Lorenzo’s lapels.
“He’s not,” Lorenzo said firmly. “My estate is a fortress. He can't get in.”
He guided me toward the private elevators.
“We need that ledger right now.”
We took the elevator down to the subterranean vault. A bank manager greeted us, checking my power of attorney paperwork meticulously before unlocking the massive, two-foot-thick steel door.
We stepped into the cool, silent room lined with thousands of safe deposit boxes.
The manager left us alone, closing the steel gate.
Lorenzo pulled the real silver signet ring from his pocket. He walked over to Box 412.
He inserted the ring into the unique circular groove beneath the keyhole. It clicked heavily, the internal magnets disengaging the lock.
Lorenzo pulled the long metal box out and set it on the viewing table.
My heart hammered against my ribs. This was it. The proof that would destroy Silas Romano and save Lorenzo’s family.
Lorenzo opened the lid.
May you like
We both stared inside.
The box was completely empty.
