Chapter 4 - The Hollow Gold Ring
“They will kill him.”
The words echoed in the tiny kitchen, completely paralyzing me. The heavy gold signet ring still sat on the formica table, glinting under the harsh fluorescent light.
“Mr. Moretti, Daniel doesn't have the ring!” I screamed into the phone, snatching the heavy gold band off the table as if it might explode. “I have it! I took it from him before he left!”
The roaring engine in the background of Luca’s call suddenly quieted as he slammed on the brakes.
“You have it?” Luca asked, his voice sharp with immense relief. “Sarah, are you absolutely sure he didn't take it?”
“It’s in my hand right now,” I sobbed, clutching the cold metal. “He only took his father’s recipe book. Luca, please, you have to find him before they hurt him!”
“I have three cars out looking for him,” Luca promised, his voice shifting from a mob boss to the protective man I had seen in the restaurant. “Lock your doors, Sarah. Do not open them for anyone except me or Marco. We are coming to you.”
The line went dead.
I stood in the kitchen, trembling violently. I walked over to the front door, throwing the deadbolt and sliding the heavy chain into place. I pulled the curtains shut, plunging the small apartment into darkness, save for the single light above the stove.
I sat back down at the table and stared at the gold ring.
The top of the crest opens. Inside is a micro-ledger.
My hands were shaking as I held the ring up to the light. I pressed my thumbnail against the edge of the Moretti family crest—a shield flanked by two lions.
I pushed hard.
With a tiny, metallic click, the face of the ring popped open on a microscopic hinge.
I held my breath, expecting a tiny memory card, a folded piece of paper, or a microchip.
But the small hollow compartment beneath the crest was completely empty.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
I shook the ring, peering into the tiny space. Nothing.
“It’s not here,” I whispered to the empty room.
If the ledger wasn't in the ring, where was it? Michael had given Daniel the tin box the night before he died. The box contained the ring, the velvet cloth, and…
The recipe book.
My blood turned to ice.
Daniel had taken the recipe book.
Before I could even process the horror of my realization, a loud, aggressive pounding hammered against my apartment door.
I jumped, dropping the empty gold ring onto the table.
“Sarah! Open the door!”
It wasn't Luca. It wasn't Marco.
It was a woman’s voice.
I crept silently toward the door, peering through the small peephole.
Standing in the dim hallway of my apartment building was Vanessa Bellini. She wasn't wearing her red silk gown anymore. She was wearing a heavy, dark trench coat, and standing directly behind her were two massive men in dark suits, their hands resting ominously inside their jackets.
“I know you’re in there, Sarah,” Vanessa hissed through the cheap wood, her voice dripping with venom. “I saw the lights go out. Open the door, or my men will break it down.”
I backed away, clapping a hand over my mouth to silence my terrified breathing. If they broke the door down and found me without the ledger, they would torture me to find Daniel.
“You think Luca is coming to save you?” Vanessa taunted, leaning closer to the door. “Luca is currently being detained by the Chicago police. My father made a phone call. Luca won't be out of holding until morning. You are completely alone.”
My stomach plummeted into a bottomless abyss. Luca was arrested. He wasn't coming.
“I want the ring, Sarah,” Vanessa demanded, her voice losing its mocking tone and turning deadly serious. “Your husband stole my family’s money. Hand over the ring, and I will let you and your pathetic son live. If you don't, I will have my men hunt Daniel down tonight, and I will make you watch as they tear him apart.”
Tears streamed hot and fast down my face. I looked back at the kitchen table. The empty gold ring sat next to the photograph of Michael.
If I gave them the ring, they would realize the ledger was missing. They would know Daniel had it in the recipe book.
I couldn't give them the ring.
I ran to the kitchen, grabbing the heavy gold band and shoving it deep into the pocket of my jeans. I grabbed my purse, ignoring my coat, and bolted toward the small window in my bedroom that led out to the rusted fire escape.
CRASH.
The front door splintered violently as one of the men kicked it.
I scrambled out the bedroom window, scraping my hands on the rusted metal of the fire escape, and began climbing up toward the roof of the building in the freezing night air.
“She’s going out the back!” I heard one of the men yell from inside my apartment.
I reached the flat, tar-covered roof just as a gunshot echoed from the alleyway below, the bullet pinging off the metal railing inches from my foot. I screamed, throwing myself flat onto the freezing roof.
I crawled frantically toward the edge of the adjoining building. The gap was only three feet wide, but looking down at the dark, four-story drop made my vision swim with vertigo.
I didn't have a choice. I stood up, took a running leap, and landed hard on the neighboring roof, rolling to absorb the impact.
I didn't look back. I ran across the rooftops, ignoring the pain in my scraped hands and bruised knees, finally finding an open roof access door on a building three blocks away.
I hurried down the dark, unfamiliar stairwell, finally emerging onto a busy, well-lit street corner.
I leaned against a brick wall, gasping for air, my lungs burning in the freezing Chicago wind. I was safe for the moment. But Daniel was still out there, walking the streets with a book that could get him killed, thinking his mother was a liar.
I pulled my cell phone from my purse with shaking hands.
I didn't dial the police. Vanessa had just proven her family controlled them.
I scrolled through my contacts until I found a number I had only used once, to coordinate catering for a private event.
I hit call. It rang twice.
“Yes?” a deep, gruff voice answered.
“Marco,” I sobbed, clutching the phone tightly. “It’s Sarah.”
The head chef’s tone instantly shifted from professional to fiercely protective. “Sarah? Where are you? The Boss told me to stay at the restaurant until he cleared the police roadblock.”
“Vanessa is at my apartment,” I cried. “She sent men to kill me. Marco, Daniel took Michael’s recipe book. The ledger isn't in the ring, it’s in the book! Vanessa’s men are hunting him!”
Marco cursed violently in Italian.
“Where did he go, Sarah?” Marco demanded.
“I don't know!” I panicked. “We had a fight. He just walked out!”
Silence hung on the line for three agonizing seconds.
“I know where he is,” Marco said quietly.
“Where?!”
“When Michael got stressed, he always went to the same place to clear his head,” Marco explained, his voice grim. “The old docks on Lake Michigan. The pier where he first met Luca’s father.”
“I’m going there right now,” I said, already looking for a taxi.
“Sarah, no!” Marco shouted. “You stay hidden! If Vanessa’s men find you—”
“He is my son, Marco!” I screamed into the phone. “I am not hiding while he’s out there alone!”
I hung up, flagging down a passing yellow cab.
“The old docks on Lake Street,” I told the driver, tossing a twenty-dollar bill through the partition. “Hurry. Please.”
The ride felt like an eternity. The city lights blurred outside the window as I prayed frantically that Daniel was safe.
When the taxi finally pulled up to the desolate, freezing waterfront, I jumped out before the car even fully stopped. The wind howling off Lake Michigan was brutal, whipping my hair across my face as I ran toward the wooden pier.
I saw him.
Daniel was sitting at the very end of the pier, his legs dangling over the freezing, dark water. He was wearing his father’s white chef jacket, shivering in the wind, holding the heavy leather recipe book tightly to his chest.
“Daniel!” I screamed, running down the wooden planks.
Daniel turned, looking at me in shock. “Mom? What are you doing here?”
I didn't answer. I just threw my arms around him, pulling him away from the edge, sobbing uncontrollably as I buried my face in his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Daniel whispered, hugging me back tightly. “I was just so mad. I didn't want to believe he was a bad person.”
“He wasn't a bad person, baby,” I cried, pulling back to look at his tear-stained face. “He just made a terrible mistake. And we have to fix it right now.”
I reached for the leather recipe book. “Daniel, give me the book.”
But before his fingers could release the leather cover, a sleek, black town car tore into the gravel parking lot behind the pier, its headlights pinning us in a blinding spotlight.
The car doors flew open.
Three massive men in dark suits stepped out, raising suppressed pistols directly at us.
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And stepping out from the back seat, wearing a thick wool coat over her red gown, was Vanessa Bellini.
“How touching,” Vanessa sneered, walking slowly down the wooden pier. “A family reunion. Now, hand over the book, Sarah, and I might just shoot you quickly.”
