Chapter 8 - THE NECKLACE OF LIES
The attic felt suffocatingly small.
I stared at the heavy gold ring in Luca’s hand. The crest of the Chicago syndicate gleamed dully in the moonlight filtering through the dusty window.
“A hitman?” I choked out, looking at my mother. “Dad was a hitman?”
My mother wouldn't meet my eyes. She pulled her cardigan tighter around her shivering shoulders.
“He was a good man, Emma,” she wept softly. “He did terrible things when he was young, but he walked away. He bought the bakery to give us a normal life.”
“He assassinated my uncle,” Luca said, his voice dangerously quiet. “My uncle Vincenzo. The man who was supposed to inherit the syndicate before my father.”
Luca looked at my mother, his dark eyes piercing through the shadows.
“Matteo’s men didn't just come here to kill my son,” Luca realized, the pieces finally clicking together. “They came here to find proof. If Matteo can prove to the syndicate council that my father hired a hitman to kill his own brother for the throne, my father’s entire legacy is invalidated.”
Luca’s grip on the gold ring tightened.
“And my claim as Don becomes illegitimate. Matteo takes over Chicago legally.”
Answer one: My father’s secret past was the key to tearing down Luca’s empire. Matteo hadn't just wanted Leo dead; he wanted the throne.
Open two: If my father was the hitman… how did Isabella, Luca’s supposedly dead sister, fit into this twisted web of betrayal?
Suddenly, the floorboards beneath us creaked.
Heavy footsteps echoed from the living room downstairs.
The men had returned.
“Quiet,” Luca hissed, instantly raising his suppressed rifle.
He looked at me and pointed toward the crawlspace. “Get your mother and Leo back inside. Do not make a sound.”
I helped my mother scramble back into the dark recess, taking the sleeping Leo from Luca’s arms. The little boy stirred slightly but settled against my chest.
Luca moved like a ghost, positioning himself at the top of the pull-down stairs.
“Check the ceiling,” a gruff voice echoed from the hallway below. “The old lady has to be up there.”
The stairs groaned as weight was placed on the bottom rung.
Luca didn't hesitate.
Pfft. Pfft.
Two suppressed shots coughed from the rifle.
A heavy thud echoed as a body hit the hallway floor.
“He’s upstairs!” another voice shouted.
Gunfire erupted, tearing through the thin drywall of the ceiling. Plaster and wood splinters rained down on us. I curled my body over Leo, shielding him from the debris.
Luca fired back, methodical and precise, aiming through the opening.
Another cry of pain, followed by the sound of dragging footsteps retreating toward the front door.
“They’re falling back,” Luca whispered, keeping his rifle trained on the stairs.
But before we could catch our breath, the smell of smoke drifted up into the attic.
“They’re burning the house,” my mother gasped in terror.
Luca cursed violently. “We have to move. Now.”
He grabbed my hand, pulling me out of the crawlspace. I held Leo tightly against my chest.
“Down the stairs, fast,” Luca ordered. “I’ll cover you.”
We scrambled down the wooden ladder into the smoke-filled hallway. The living room was already engulfed in flames, the old sofa burning fiercely.
“Out the back door!” Luca shouted over the roar of the fire.
We sprinted through the kitchen, bursting out into the cool night air of the backyard.
The moment we cleared the porch, a floodlight clicked on, blinding us.
“Drop the weapon, Luca,” a familiar voice commanded.
Standing at the edge of the lawn, flanked by four heavily armed mercenaries, was Isabella.
The dead sister.
She wasn't hiding in the shadows anymore. She looked regal, terrifying, and completely in control.
“Isabella,” Luca breathed, lowering his rifle but not dropping it. “You’re working with Matteo?”
Isabella laughed. It was a cold, bitter sound.
“Matteo is a brute, Luca. He’s muscle. I’m the brains.”
She stepped forward, the floodlight casting long shadows behind her.
“Matteo thinks he’s getting the throne. He thinks he’s using me to find the proof of Father’s treason.”
She looked at the gold ring still clutched in Luca’s left hand.
“But I don't want Matteo on the throne, little brother. I want it for myself.”
I stared at her, horrified.
Isabella had warned me about Matteo in the bathroom. She had told me to find the phone to stop him.
She had played me.
“You gave us the coordinates so we would lead you to the proof,” I realized aloud, my voice shaking.
Isabella smiled at me. “Very good, Emma. The maid has a brain after all. I knew Luca wouldn't tell anyone where he hid the boy, not even under torture. But I knew he would run to him if he thought his life was in danger.”
Luca stepped in front of me, shielding me and his son from his sister’s gaze.
“You faked your death five years ago just to plan a coup?” Luca asked, his voice dripping with disgust.
“I faked my death because our father was going to pass the syndicate to you, a boy who wanted to play businessman!” Isabella spat. “I am the eldest! I have the blood of a boss! But because I am a woman, I was cast aside.”
She pointed her pistol at Luca.
“Hand over the ring, the boy, and the maid. And I’ll let you walk away into exile.”
“I’d rather die,” Luca snarled.
“Suit yourself.”
Isabella raised her gun to fire.
But before she could pull the trigger, a brilliant flash of light caught my eye.
Hanging around Isabella’s neck, glinting fiercely in the floodlight, was a heavy diamond necklace.
I recognized it instantly.
It was the same necklace Vanessa had been wearing at the engagement dinner tonight.
“Mr. Moretti!” I screamed, diving to the ground and pulling Leo with me.
Luca didn't ask questions. He threw himself sideways just as Isabella fired.
The bullet grazed his shoulder, tearing through his expensive suit jacket.
Luca rolled onto the wet grass and fired his rifle.
He didn't aim at Isabella. He aimed at the massive propane tank sitting next to my mother’s old barbecue grill, directly behind the mercenaries.
BOOM.
The explosion rocked the backyard, sending a shockwave of heat and dirt washing over us. Two of the mercenaries were thrown backward, screaming.
In the chaos, Isabella stumbled, dropping her weapon.
Luca didn't hesitate. He was on his feet in a fraction of a second, sprinting across the lawn. He tackled his sister to the ground, pinning her hands behind her back.
“It’s over, Isabella,” Luca roared over the ringing in our ears.
The remaining mercenaries, seeing their leader captured and their comrades burning, dropped their weapons and fled into the night.
I scrambled to my feet, holding Leo tightly. My mother rushed over, wrapping her arms around both of us, weeping tears of pure relief.
Luca hauled Isabella to her feet, his hand gripping her collar.
He looked at the diamond necklace around her throat.
“You took this from Vanessa,” Luca said, his eyes narrowing.
“She didn't need it anymore,” Isabella sneered, though blood was trickling from a cut on her forehead. “Matteo executed her the moment she failed to kill you at dinner.”
Luca’s face went completely blank.
Vanessa was dead.
The woman he was supposed to marry had been nothing but a pawn, sacrificed the moment her usefulness ended.
Sirens wailed in the distance. The fire department and police were finally responding to the burning house.
“Take the car,” Luca ordered me, tossing me the keys to the SUV. “Get your mother and Leo to the safehouse downtown. Daniel will meet you there.”
“What about you?” I asked, my voice trembling.
Luca looked at his sister, his dark eyes filled with a terrifying resolve.
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