Chapter 3 - THE FALCONE LEDGER
The small black journal felt like it weighed a hundred pounds in my shaking hands.
I stared at the name written in Vanessa’s elegant cursive. Don Falcone.
Even as a maid, I knew that name. Everyone in Chicago knew that name. The Falcone family was the oldest, most ruthless rival syndicate to the Morettis. They had been at war for decades, a brutal conflict that had only recently settled into a tense, fragile ceasefire.
Vanessa wasn't just a cruel, insecure socialite.
She was an assassin. A Trojan horse invited directly into the heart of the Moretti empire.
Phase 2 Commences Sunday: Eliminate Luca.
Sunday was four days away.
I closed the journal tightly and shoved it into the deep pocket of my apron. I needed to show this to Luca immediately.
I turned and sprinted back up the grand staircase, my heart hammering against my ribs. I reached the third floor and practically ran down the hall to Henry’s room.
The door was slightly ajar.
I peeked inside. The bedside lamp was off. The room was bathed in the soft blue glow of a nightlight. Luca was sitting on the edge of Henry’s bed, his broad back facing the door. He was gently stroking his son’s hair, singing a soft Italian lullaby that his own mother had probably sung to him.
Henry was fast asleep, his small hand still clutching the blue mitten.
I couldn't interrupt them. Not after the trauma Henry had just endured. Not when he finally felt safe.
I took a deep breath and stepped back into the hallway, silently closing the door.
I needed to find Marco. He was the head of security. He would know how to protect Luca without terrifying Henry.
I hurried down the back servant stairs, avoiding the main foyer where the cleanup crew would be arriving soon. I navigated the maze of corridors that led to the security command center in the basement.
The heavy steel door to the command center was cracked open.
"Marco?" I whispered, slipping inside.
The room was bathed in the glow of dozens of security monitors.
But Marco wasn't sitting at the main desk.
He was standing near a filing cabinet in the corner, his back to me. He was speaking in hushed, urgent tones on a burner phone.
"I don't care that she got kicked out," Marco hissed into the phone, his usually calm voice laced with panic. "The plan is still on for Sunday. If we don't finish Moretti, Falcone will kill both of us. Do you understand?"
I froze.
The blood drained completely from my face.
Marco. Luca’s most trusted friend. The man who had taken a bullet for Luca five years ago.
He was working with Vanessa.
"Just get the detonators into the estate," Marco continued, unaware I was standing ten feet behind him. "I’ll make sure the security detail is rotated out on Sunday morning. Moretti will be completely exposed in his study."
I backed away slowly, my hands trembling so violently I almost dropped the black journal.
I had to get out. I had to tell Luca that his head of security was compromised.
But as I took another step backward, my foot brushed against a loose power cable on the floor.
It scraped against the linoleum.
Marco stopped talking instantly.
He slowly turned around.
When he saw me standing there, his face went perfectly blank. Then, a cold, dead look settled into his eyes.
"Emily," Marco said softly, hanging up the burner phone and slipping it into his pocket.
"I was just... I was looking for Mr. Moretti," I stammered, my voice shaking uncontrollably. I took another step toward the door.
"The Boss is upstairs with his kid," Marco said, taking a slow step toward me. His hand casually rested on the butt of the pistol holstered at his hip. "Why did you need him in such a hurry?"
"I... I just wanted to see if he needed anything else before I went home," I lied, my eyes darting toward the exit.
Marco’s gaze dropped to the pocket of my apron.
The sharp, rectangular outline of the black journal was clearly visible through the thin white fabric.
"What's in your pocket, Emily?" Marco asked, his voice dropping into a dangerous, lethal register.
"Nothing. Just my notepad."
"Show me."
I didn't think. I knew if he saw that journal, I wouldn't leave the basement alive.
I spun around and bolted for the door.
"Stop!" Marco shouted, lunging after me.
I burst through the steel door and sprinted down the narrow basement hallway. Marco was massive, but he was heavy. I was small and terrified, adrenaline pushing my legs faster than they had ever moved.
"Emily, wait!" Marco yelled, his heavy boots pounding on the concrete behind me.
I reached the stairwell and scrambled up the steps two at a time, bursting through the door into the main kitchen.
The kitchen was empty, the staff having fled when the shouting started in the dining room.
I looked frantically for an exit. The back door was locked with a heavy deadbolt. I wouldn't have time to open it before Marco caught me.
I ran toward the pantry, intending to hide in the dumbwaiter shaft, but Marco burst through the stairwell door before I could cross the room.
He drew his gun, aiming it directly at my chest.
"Don't take another step," Marco breathed heavily, his face twisted into a mask of desperate panic.
I froze, raising my hands slowly.
"Marco, please," I begged, tears spilling down my cheeks. "I won't say anything. I swear."
"You already know too much," Marco said, his voice thick with regret. "I didn't want to hurt you, Emily. You're a good kid. But if Falcone finds out you know, he’ll slaughter my wife and kids. I have to protect my family."
"By murdering Luca?" I cried. "He trusted you!"
"In this life, trust is a liability," Marco said coldly.
He raised the gun, his finger tightening on the trigger.
I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the end.
But the gunshot didn't come from Marco’s weapon.
It came from the doorway behind him.
BANG.
Marco gasped, his eyes going wide. He dropped his gun, clutching his right shoulder as blood rapidly bloomed through his suit jacket. He collapsed onto the kitchen tiles, groaning in agony.
I opened my eyes, stunned.
Standing in the doorway, holding a smoking pistol, was Luca.
His eyes were completely black, burning with a fury so intense it terrified me more than the gun Marco had just pointed at me.
"You’re right, Marco," Luca said softly, stepping into the kitchen. "Trust is a liability."
He walked over to Marco, kicking the dropped gun far across the room. He aimed his own pistol directly at his oldest friend’s head.
"Boss, wait, please," Marco wheezed, clutching his bleeding shoulder. "Falcone has my family. They took them yesterday. I had no choice."
Luca didn't flinch. He didn't lower the gun.
"You always have a choice," Luca said, his voice devoid of any mercy. "You chose to protect your blood by selling mine."
Luca turned to me, his expression softening just a fraction.
"Emily," he said. "Are you hurt?"
"No," I gasped, my whole body trembling. "I’m okay."
I reached into my apron pocket and pulled out the black journal. I walked over and handed it to him.
"I found this near the front door," I whispered. "It’s Vanessa’s. She’s working for Don Falcone. And they aren't just planning to kill you, Luca."
Luca took the journal, his eyes scanning the ledger page. He saw the note about Sunday.
He looked up at me.
"What else are they planning?" Luca demanded.
I swallowed hard, remembering a detail I had noticed in the security room when Marco was on the phone. A blueprint that had been hastily shoved under a keyboard.
"Marco wasn't just talking about detonators for your study," I said, looking down at the bleeding security chief.
May you like
I looked back at Luca.
"They ordered a second set of explosives, Luca," I whispered. "For Henry’s room."
