Chapter 3 - THE PHOTOGRAPH BENEATH THE MATTRESS
My blood ran completely cold.
The phone nearly slipped from my trembling fingers.
“My mother?” I choked out, my vision blurring. “What did you do to my mother?”
Claudia’s laugh was like shattered glass.
“She’s resting comfortably in the back of my car, Emily. Now put Vincent on the phone. Before I lose my patience.”
Vincent released his grip on Michael’s throat. Michael collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.
Vincent took the phone from my hand.
He didn't yell. He didn't threaten.
His voice was absolute ice.
“If you touch one hair on that innocent woman’s head, Claudia, there isn't a hole deep enough for you to hide in.”
“Oh, darling,” Claudia purred. “I’m not hiding. I’m holding all the cards. I have the master ledger. Every name, every offshore account, every bribe your family has paid for thirty years. And I have Emily’s sweet, sick mother.”
“What do you want?”
“The offshore transfer codes,” Claudia demanded. “All of them. I’ll text you an address in one hour. Come alone. Bring the codes. Or Emily will be planning a funeral.”
The line went dead.
Vincent stared at the phone.
I fell to my knees on the ruined carpet, covering my face.
My mother. She was recovering from surgery. She was fragile, confused, and completely defenseless.
Margaret immediately knelt beside me, wrapping her arms around me despite her own exhaustion.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Margaret wept, holding me tightly. “We will get her back. Vinny will get her back.”
Vincent looked down at me.
His dark eyes were filled with a profound, violent regret.
“Emily, look at me.”
I forced myself to look up through my tears.
“I brought this monster into my home,” Vincent said, his voice breaking with guilt. “I promise you on my father’s grave, I will not let her hurt your mother. You have my word.”
He turned toward Michael, who was still coughing on the floor.
Vincent kicked him hard in the ribs.
Michael cried out, curling into a ball.
“You brought her into my mother’s bedroom!” Vincent roared. “You gave her the key! You sold out your own blood for a piece of paper!”
“She loved me!” Michael gasped, holding his side. “She promised we would run the family together!”
“She used you, you idiot!”
I slowly stood up, wiping my face.
My mother’s life was on the line. I couldn't afford to fall apart.
I looked around the destroyed bedroom. The mattress had been pushed halfway off the bedframe when Michael’s men searched the room.
But tucked beneath the heavy box spring, something caught my eye.
The edge of a glossy piece of paper.
“Mr. Morelli,” I whispered.
I walked over and pulled it out.
It was a printed photograph.
But it wasn't one of Margaret’s vintage family pictures.
It was a modern, high-definition photo, clearly printed recently.
I stared at the image, my stomach violently turning.
It was Claudia. She was sitting in the back of a luxury town car.
But she wasn't with Michael.
She was kissing an older man with silver hair and a distinct, jagged scar across his jaw.
Vincent took the photo from my hands.
He went completely pale.
“That’s Carmine,” Vincent whispered.
Michael scrambled up from the floor, his eyes widening. “Uncle Carmine? The head of the Boston syndicate?”
“He’s not our uncle,” Vincent said coldly. “He’s our father’s oldest rival. Claudia was never working with you, Michael. She was a Boston plant. She’s been sleeping with Carmine the entire time.”
Michael stared at the photo, his face crumbling as he realized the woman he betrayed his mother for had played him for a fool.
Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed up the grand staircase.
Joseph, the elderly household manager, rushed into the room. He was out of breath, his face pale with terror.
“Boss,” Joseph gasped.
“What is it, Joseph?” Vincent demanded.
“There are five black SUVs pulling through the front gates.”
Vincent frowned. “My men?”
Joseph shook his head.
“No, sir. It’s the Boston syndicate. Carmine just stepped out of the lead car. He’s demanding to see you.”
Vincent looked at the photograph.
Then he looked at the empty safe.
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Carmine hadn't just sent Claudia to steal the ledger. He had come to the mansion to take over the New York territory by force.
And he was already inside the house.
