Chapter 5 - THE SETUP
The words hung in the air of the safehouse hallway, heavy and suffocating.
Setting you up to take the fall.
I stumbled backward, bumping into the wall, my hand flying to my mouth.
"My father died of a heart attack," Luca said into the phone, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Silvio, what exactly is in that file?"
"It's a toxicology report, Boss," Silvio replied, paper rustling over the line. "It says the old man didn't have a heart attack. He was poisoned. Some kind of untraceable digitalis compound. And Boss... there's a fake diary in here too. Written in Emily's handwriting. It details how she allegedly slipped the poison into his tea."
"I didn't!" I shrieked, panic clawing at my throat. "I didn't even work here eight years ago! I was twenty years old! I was in college!"
"I know," Luca said quickly, grabbing my shoulders to steady me. "Breathe, Emily. I know you didn't do it."
He spoke back into the phone.
"Silvio, burn the file. Melt the knife down. Leave no trace of it in her room."
"Too late, Boss," Silvio said, his voice dropping an octave. "We got a problem."
"What problem?"
"The police are pulling up to the front gates right now," Silvio reported, the sound of sirens faintly wailing in the background of the call. "Not beat cops. Major Crimes. Half a dozen cars. They have a warrant for Emily Carter."
My legs gave out. Luca caught me before I hit the floor, holding me tightly against his chest.
"Vanessa tipped them off," Luca deduced instantly, his tactical mind racing. "She knew her cover was blown when Marco was shot. She triggered the failsafe. If I'm dead, the Falcones take the territory. If I live, my father's murder investigation is reopened, the police raid my estate, and the scandal destroys the Moretti family from the inside."
"What do I do, Boss?" Silvio asked. "We can hold them at the gate, but it’ll start a war with the CPD."
"Let them in," Luca commanded.
I looked up at him, horrified. "You're letting them search my room?"
"They'll find the knife," Luca explained rapidly. "If my men fight them, it proves we're hiding something. Let them find it. Let them think they have you."
"They'll arrest me!" I cried. "I'll go to prison!"
"You aren't at the estate, Emily," Luca reminded me, his eyes fierce and protective. "You are a ghost right now. As long as you stay in this safehouse, the police will never find you. I need them to think you're on the run so Vanessa thinks her plan worked."
He hung up the phone and looked down at me.
"I need to leave," Luca said softly. "I have to manage the police raid at the estate, and then I have to find Vanessa before she reports back to Falcone."
"You're leaving us here?" I panicked, glancing toward Henry's closed door.
"You are safer here than anywhere else in the world," Luca promised. "I will send three of my most trusted men—men who weren't in Marco's inner circle—to guard the perimeter. Do not open this door for anyone but me. Understand?"
I nodded slowly, tears pricking my eyes. "Please be careful, Luca."
For a moment, the hardened mafia boss softened. He reached out, his thumb gently wiping a tear from my cheek.
"I'll be back for you," he whispered.
Then he turned and disappeared down the stairs, back into the dark tunnel that led to the city.
The next forty-eight hours were a waking nightmare.
I paced the floors of the safehouse, jumping at every creak of the floorboards. Henry remained blissfully unaware of the true danger, believing we were on a sudden, secret "vacation" to hide from Mrs. Bellini. I spent hours reading comic books with him, trying to keep my hands from shaking.
Luca didn't return.
He didn't call.
The three guards stationed outside the house were silent statues, offering no news.
On the evening of the second day, I turned on the small television in the safehouse living room.
The local news was blaring.
“...breaking developments in the shocking raid at the Moretti estate. Chicago Police have issued a city-wide manhunt for twenty-eight-year-old Emily Carter, a maid employed by the family, now the prime suspect in the eight-year-old cold case murder of former syndicate boss, Antonio Moretti.”
My picture—a candid shot taken at a staff Christmas party—flashed across the screen. I looked terrified in the photo. Now, I looked like a murderer on the run.
“In a shocking twist,” the news anchor continued, “police sources have revealed that Carter is believed to be affiliated with the rival Falcone crime syndicate, acting as a deep-cover operative.”
I gasped, covering my mouth.
Vanessa hadn't just framed me for murder. She had framed me as a Falcone spy.
She was tying up every loose end. If the Morettis found me, they would kill me for being a traitor. If the police found me, I would spend life in prison.
Suddenly, the front door of the safehouse rattled loudly.
Someone was trying to turn the knob.
I froze, my heart slamming against my ribs.
I grabbed Henry's hand, yanking him up from the couch. "Come here, baby. Quietly."
I dragged him into the small coat closet near the back stairs, shutting the door tightly and holding my hand over his mouth.
BANG.
The heavy front door was kicked open. Wood splintered and crashed onto the hardwood floor.
Heavy boots stepped into the living room.
I squeezed my eyes shut, praying the guards outside had stopped them. But there had been no gunfire. No shouting.
"Emily," a woman's voice called out cheerfully. "I know you're in here, sweetheart. Luca is so predictable with his safehouses."
My blood turned to ice.
It was Vanessa.
"Don't make this difficult, Emily," Vanessa's voice drifted closer to the closet. "The guards outside were very cooperative once I showed them how much money my father was willing to pay for your location."
She had bought Luca's loyal men. We were completely alone.
"I just want the boy," Vanessa said, her footsteps stopping right outside the closet door. "My father needs an heir to control the Moretti empire legally once Luca is out of the picture. Hand over Henry, and I'll make sure the police shoot you quickly instead of letting you rot in a cell."
Henry trembled against me, tears streaming down his face.
I looked around the dark closet frantically. There was nothing. No weapon. No escape.
But hanging on a hook next to me was an old, heavy metal fire extinguisher.
I grabbed the heavy metal cylinder, gripping it with both hands. I looked at Henry, putting a finger to my lips, silently pleading with him to stay quiet.
I took a deep breath.
The handle of the closet door slowly began to turn.
Vanessa chuckled softly on the other side. "Found you."
The door swung open.
Vanessa stood there, holding a suppressed pistol, a cruel, victorious smile on her face.
May you like
I didn't scream. I didn't hesitate.
With every ounce of strength I had, I swung the heavy red fire extinguisher directly at her face.
