Chapter 7 - THE TRAITOR IN THE FAMILY
The cold rain continued to fall behind us, but the air inside the abandoned paper mill felt suffocatingly hot and thick with dust.
I stood frozen in the doorway, my hands gripping Samuel’s shoulders so tightly my fingers ached. The fourteen-year-old boy stared into the dim warehouse, his mouth slightly open, completely paralyzed by the scene in front of us.
Aunt June—the sweet, elderly woman who baked cookies and knitted sweaters—was holding a silver revolver aimed squarely at Luca’s heart.
Her gray hair was disheveled, and tears streamed down her wrinkled face, but her hands, though trembling, did not lower the weapon.
"Put the gun down, June," Luca said. His voice wasn't angry; it was laced with a deep, profound sorrow. He hadn't lowered his own weapon, but his eyes were pleading with her. "You don't want to do this."
"You don't understand," June sobbed, her voice echoing in the cavernous space. "They’re going to take everything, Luca. They’re going to ruin us."
"Who is?" Luca asked, taking a slow, calculated step forward.
"I am."
A new voice cut through the shadows.
From behind a rusted piece of heavy machinery, Arthur Bellini stepped into the dim light. He was a tall, gaunt man in a tailored suit that hung too loosely on his frame. Beside him stood Vanessa, still wearing her beige trench coat over her red evening gown, looking furious and exhausted.
Vanessa’s eyes immediately darted to the doorway. She saw Samuel and me.
"Look at that," Vanessa sneered, a cruel smile twisting her lips. "The maid delivered the package for us."
Luca’s head snapped toward the door. When he saw us, absolute terror flashed across his face.
"Hannah, run!" Luca shouted. "Take him and run!"
I turned to pull Samuel back outside, but before we could move, two large men in dark suits stepped out from behind the exterior wall, blocking the exit. One of them grabbed my arm, shoving me forcefully into the warehouse. Samuel stumbled, falling to his knees on the concrete floor.
"Leave him alone!" I screamed, struggling against the man’s grip.
"Don't touch them!" Luca roared, turning his gun toward the men.
"Ah, ah, ah," Arthur Bellini tutted, stepping closer to Aunt June. "Keep your weapon on the old lady, Luca. Or better yet, drop it. Unless you want to see your beloved aunt bleed out on this filthy floor."
Luca’s jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth would shatter. He looked at Samuel, who was huddled on the floor, staring in betrayal at Aunt June.
Slowly, agonizingly, Luca lowered his gun and placed it on the floor, kicking it away.
"Good boy," Arthur smirked.
"Why, Aunt June?" Samuel whispered, his voice cracking with a pain so deep it brought fresh tears to my eyes. "Why are you helping them?"
June let out a tragic, broken wail. She finally lowered her gun, dropping it to her side, unable to look at her nephew.
"Tell them, June," Vanessa commanded coldly. "Tell them what you did."
June shook her head, sobbing into her hands. "Frank was going to give it all to him. I couldn't let him do it."
Luca frowned, confused. "Give what to him?"
Vanessa walked forward, the clicking of her heels echoing like gunshots. She reached into her trench coat and pulled out a faded, folded piece of paper. It looked incredibly old.
"Your father’s original will, Luca," Vanessa smiled. "The one he wrote right after Samuel was born."
Vanessa unfolded the paper.
"Frank Moretti was a traditionalist," Vanessa said smoothly. "He believed the eldest son inherited the business, but the youngest son inherited the legacy. In this document, Frank left the entire estate—the mansion, the offshore accounts, the legitimate businesses—to Samuel. You, Luca, were only left the syndicate. The dirty work."
Luca stared at her, stunned.
"Aunt June found out," Vanessa continued, circling Luca like a predator. "She was furious. Her own husband had died working for the Moretti syndicate. She believed her side of the family deserved a massive cut of the legitimate estate. But as long as Samuel was the primary heir, June got nothing."
"So you made a deal," Luca realized, staring in horror at his aunt.
June couldn't meet his eyes. "The Bellinis needed cash. I needed Samuel out of the will. Arthur promised me that if I helped him secure a marriage between you and Vanessa, they would forge a new will. One that split the estate between you and me."
"And cut Sammy out completely," Luca breathed, sickened.
"It was just business, Luca," Arthur said reasonably. "We get your bank accounts through marriage, June gets her payout, and the bastard child gets sent to boarding school. Everyone wins."
"Except Frank found out," I spoke up, my voice trembling but loud in the quiet warehouse.
Vanessa’s eyes snapped to me, filled with venom.
"Yes, the little maid speaks," Vanessa sneered. "Frank started getting suspicious. He noticed the wire transfers June was making to my father’s accounts. He confronted her at the hospital the night he died."
Vanessa walked over to Samuel, looming over the terrified boy.
"Frank was going to call his lawyers. He was going to cut June off entirely and finalize Samuel’s inheritance. We couldn't let that happen."
"So you killed him," Samuel whispered, staring up at the woman who had almost become his sister-in-law.
"Oh, please," Vanessa rolled her eyes. "He was having a massive heart attack. We just... delayed calling the nurse. It was remarkably easy. Then, June and I emptied his safe deposit box and threw away the original will."
"You missed something, though," Luca said softly.
Vanessa froze.
Luca reached into his pocket and pulled out the delicate silver bracelet.
Vanessa’s face went pale.
"Dad knew you were stealing," Luca said, his voice dripping with deadly calm. "He didn't just hide the account numbers in this clasp, Vanessa. He hid the offshore ledger. The one that proves your father has been laundering syndicate money for three years."
Arthur Bellini’s smug expression vanished instantly.
"Give me that bracelet," Arthur demanded, pulling a gun from his own coat.
"No," Luca said. "You’re going to let Samuel and Hannah walk out that door. Right now."
"Or what?" Vanessa laughed nervously. "You’re unarmed, Luca."
Suddenly, Samuel, still kneeling on the floor, reached his hand into the deep pocket of his father’s old wool coat. His fingers brushed against something hard and heavy.
Not a ticket. Not a bracelet.
Dad always carried two things in this coat, Samuel remembered. Peppermint candies. And his backup piece.
Samuel pulled his hand out of the pocket.
The heavy, snub-nosed .38 caliber revolver looked massive in the fourteen-year-old’s trembling hands.
May you like
He pointed it directly at Vanessa Bellini’s chest.
"Let my brother go," Samuel said, his voice shaking but his eyes filled with absolute, unbroken resolve. "Or I swear to God, I'll shoot."
