Chapter 3 - THE TRUTH ABOUT THE MECHANIC’S SHOP
The restaurant was dead silent.
Vanessa’s breathing hitched. She took another step backward, her heels clicking sharply against the marble.
Luca didn't look at her. He kept his eyes completely focused on my daughter.
“Sophie,” Luca said, his voice impossibly gentle, though I could see the muscles in his jaw feathering with tension. “Can you tell me more about the man with the scar?”
Sophie clutched her flower basket tightly.
“He wore a nice suit. Like yours,” she whispered. “But he was mean. He pushed Daddy against the tool cabinet. He said Daddy had to do what he told him, or we would get hurt.”
Tears sprang to my eyes.
My husband, Mark, was a brilliant mechanic. He ran a small, struggling auto shop on the South Side. He had died in a single-car accident on a rainy Tuesday night. The police said his brakes had failed on a steep off-ramp.
He had never mentioned being threatened.
“And the watch?” Luca prompted softly.
“When he pushed Daddy, it fell out of his pocket,” Sophie explained. “The glass broke on the concrete. The mean man picked it up and told Daddy that time was running out.”
She looked at me, her chin quivering. “Then Daddy made me go hide in the office. And that night... Daddy didn't come home.”
A cold horror washed over me. I pulled Sophie into my arms, burying her face in my shoulder so she wouldn't see the terror in my eyes.
Mark’s death wasn’t an accident.
Luca slowly stood up. He closed his fist around his father’s silver pocket watch.
When he turned to look at Vanessa, the air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
“Your brother, Marco, has a burn scar on the right side of his neck,” Luca stated, his voice a flat, deadly monotone.
Vanessa’s lips parted, but no sound came out.
“Why was your brother threatening Emily’s husband on the day he died?” Luca asked, taking a slow step toward her. “And why was he carrying a watch that was stolen from my father’s deathbed?”
“I don’t know!” Vanessa cried, genuine panic finally breaking her poised facade. “Luca, Marco does business with a lot of people! I swear I don’t know anything about a mechanic!”
“You’re a liar,” Luca said softly.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.
“Vince,” Luca said, not breaking eye contact with his fiancée. “Bring the car to the front. We’re leaving.”
He hung up and looked at me.
“Emily. Get your coat. You and Sophie are coming with me.”
I stood up, holding Sophie tight against my side. “Mr. Moretti, I need to take her home. It’s past her bedtime—”
“You can’t go home, Emily,” Luca interrupted gently. “If Marco Bellini was involved in your husband’s death, and Vanessa knows you and Sophie just identified him... your apartment isn't safe.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
I looked at Vanessa. The beautiful, wealthy woman who had spent months belittling me for my secondhand clothes was staring at me with pure, undisguised venom.
“She’s lying,” Vanessa hissed at Luca. “The kid is making it up for attention!”
“She’s seven years old,” Luca shot back, his voice finally rising to a roar. “Get out of my restaurant, Vanessa. If you or your brother go anywhere near Emily or this little girl, I will bury you both.”
Vanessa flinched as if he had struck her. She grabbed her empty clutch, shot one last murderous glare at me, and ran out the side door.
Ten minutes later, I was buckling Sophie into the backseat of Luca’s armored black SUV. She was exhausted, her eyes drooping heavily.
Luca sat in the back with us, his broad shoulders taking up most of the space. His bodyguard, Vince, drove in absolute silence.
I held Sophie’s hand as she fell asleep against my arm.
“I’m sorry, Emily,” Luca said quietly in the darkness of the car.
I looked at him. The streetlights flashed across his face, highlighting the deep lines of exhaustion and betrayal around his eyes.
“For what?” I whispered.
“For dragging you into this. For not protecting my staff better.” He looked down at the silver watch in his hands. “Your husband was a good man. I met him once, years ago, when he fixed my mother’s car. He didn’t deserve to cross paths with Marco Bellini.”
“Why would Marco threaten a mechanic, Luca?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Mark was just a regular guy. We barely had any money.”
“I don’t know yet,” Luca admitted. “But Marco has been running Vanessa’s family business into the ground. If he needed a mechanic to do something illegal... maybe cut the brakes on a rival’s car, or chop a stolen vehicle... and Mark refused...”
Luca didn't finish the sentence, but he didn't have to. Mark had always been fiercely principled. He would never have done something illegal.
And it cost him his life.
“We have to go to my apartment,” I said suddenly, a fresh wave of panic hitting me. “I need to pack some clothes for Sophie. And Mark’s lockbox is under our bed. If he knew he was in danger, he might have left something.”
Luca nodded. He leaned forward. “Vince, take us to Emily’s address in Pilsen.”
When we pulled onto my quiet, working-class street, everything looked normal. The streetlamps were glowing warmly.
But as Vince parked the SUV behind my beat-up Honda Civic, my heart stopped.
The front door to my apartment building was propped open.
And all four tires on my Honda had been slashed.
Luca put a heavy hand on my shoulder before I could move. He drew a sleek black handgun from a shoulder holster hidden beneath his suit jacket.
“Stay in the car,” Luca ordered, his voice cold and professional.
He and Vince stepped out into the night, moving toward my slashed car.
I watched through the tinted window, holding my sleeping daughter. Luca approached my windshield. He reached out and pulled something out from under the wiper blade.
He walked back to the SUV, opened the door, and got in.
His face was a mask of pure fury.
He held out his hand.
Resting in his palm was a single, white flower petal.
May you like
It was exactly like the ones in Sophie’s little wicker basket.
Only this one was soaked in black motor oil.
