Chapter 3 - THE SILVER POCKET WATCH
"Take your hand off my girlfriend, Uncle. Now."
Alessandro’s voice wasn't loud, but it carried a lethal, vibrating promise that made the champagne glasses on the nearby tables rattle.
Carmine stared at his nephew. The older man’s eyes were filled with a toxic mixture of shock and fury. Slowly, agonizingly, he uncurled his fingers from Hannah’s wrist.
Hannah pulled her arm back, her skin burning where the old man had gripped her. She pressed herself closer to Alessandro, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
"You play a dangerous game, Alessandro," Carmine spat, adjusting his cuff. "Giving that heirloom to a maid. Insulting the Rossi family arrangement. You think this protects you?"
"I think you need to leave," Alessandro said, standing perfectly still. "Before I remind you who controls the supply lines in this city."
Carmine’s lip curled into a sneer. He looked at Hannah one last time, a promise of violence in his eyes, before turning to his massive bodyguards. "We're leaving."
As the three men walked away, the suffocating tension in the air finally broke.
The crowd began to murmur loudly.
Hannah’s mother grabbed her arm, her acrylic nails digging into Hannah’s skin. "Inside. Now."
Before Alessandro could object, her mother dragged Hannah through the front doors of the bakery and pushed her into the cramped, flour-dusted kitchen in the back.
Her sister, Claire, followed closely behind, locking the door.
"What are you doing?!" her mother hissed, her face pale. "Are you out of your mind, Hannah?"
"I brought a date," Hannah defended, rubbing her wrist. "You told me to bring someone."
"You brought Alessandro Vitale!" Claire yelled, pacing the small kitchen. "Do you have any idea who that man is? He’s not a boyfriend, Hannah! He’s a syndicate boss!"
"He treats me better than Brian ever did," Hannah shot back, her voice shaking but defiant.
"Brian?" her mother laughed, a hysterical, panicked sound. "You think this is about Brian? Hannah, that old man who just grabbed you? Carmine Vitale? He owns this bakery."
Hannah froze. "What?"
"The bank rejected my loan fourteen months ago," her mother confessed, tears welling in her eyes. "The renovations were half done. We were going to lose the building. Someone approached Claire and offered a private loan."
Hannah looked at her sister. Claire looked away, shame painting her cheeks red.
"You borrowed money from the mob?" Hannah whispered in absolute horror.
"I was trying to save our family!" her mother cried.
"Is that why you wanted me to stay in the back today?" Hannah asked, a sickening realization washing over her. "Not because I'm overweight. Not because of Brian. But because you owed the mafia money and didn't want me seen?"
Her mother slumped against the stainless steel prep table. "I pushed you away because I wanted you safe. You work for Alessandro. If Carmine knew you were connected to his nephew, he would use you to get to him. And now you've walked right into the crossfire."
Hannah’s head spun. Her entire family dynamic, the rejection she had felt for the past year—it was all a lie to cover up a massive, terrifying debt.
"It gets worse," Claire whispered, pulling a small, velvet pouch from her apron pocket.
"What is that?" Hannah asked.
"When the contractors tore up the old floorboards in the back office, they found a hidden lockbox," Claire explained, her hands shaking as she untied the pouch. "Mom told me to throw it away, but I opened it."
Claire handed the object to Hannah.
It was a heavy, silver pocket watch. It was tarnished and dented, but the intricate engraving on the front was unmistakable. It was a soaring eagle.
Hannah recognized it immediately. She dusted the exact same crest on the silver humidors in Alessandro’s study every Tuesday.
"This is the Vitale family crest," Hannah said. "Why was it hidden under our floor?"
"Open it," Claire urged.
Hannah pressed the small latch. The silver cover popped open.
Inside, the clock face was shattered. But tucked behind the broken glass was a tiny, folded black-and-white photograph.
Hannah carefully pulled it out and unfolded it.
She stopped breathing.
The photograph showed two young men standing in front of the very bakery they were standing in now. One of the men was a much younger Carmine Vitale.
The other man had his arm slung casually around Carmine’s shoulder, laughing.
It was Hannah’s father. The man who had supposedly abandoned them twenty years ago.
Before Hannah could process the image, the kitchen door handle rattled violently.
"Hannah." Alessandro’s voice was low and commanding through the heavy wood. "Open the door."
Hannah unlocked it. Alessandro stepped inside, his dark eyes sweeping over the terrified faces of her mother and sister before landing on Hannah.
"We need to leave," Alessandro said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
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"Why?" Hannah asked, instinctively clutching the pocket watch.
"Because," Alessandro said, looking back over his shoulder toward the storefront, "Brian is currently standing in your mother’s dining room, telling Carmine’s men exactly how much you mean to me."
