Chapter 4 - The Niece’s Game
The small, sterile bedroom suddenly felt freezing.
I stared at the taped-together place card in Luca’s hand, the elegant cursive mocking us from the thick cardstock.
I took the ledger three days ago.
"Camilla," Luca breathed, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. "Vanessa’s niece."
"Why would a nineteen-year-old girl steal a mafia ledger?" I asked, my voice trembling. My room had been violated. Someone had been in here, rooting through my things, standing over the spot where I slept.
Luca crushed the card in his fist. "Because Camilla isn't just Vanessa’s niece. She’s the daughter of the Falcone family’s underboss. Vanessa’s sister married into our biggest rival syndicate."
My stomach plummeted. I had poured wine for Camilla at dinner. She was quiet, beautiful, and seemingly innocent, dressed in a pale pink gown, smiling sweetly at Pietro Bellini. But beneath the facade, she was mafia royalty from a family that had been trying to destroy the Morettis for decades.
"If she has the ledger," Luca said, his voice dropping into a deadly calm, "she doesn't just have proof of the embezzlement. She has the account numbers. The Falcones can drain the foundation dry by morning."
He didn't wait for me. He turned and sprinted out of the servant’s quarters. I ran after him, my sensible black shoes slipping on the polished hardwood floors as we rushed back toward the banquet hall.
We burst through the oak doors. The fifty guests were still frozen in terrified silence, guarded by Leo and his men.
Marcus looked up from his seat, his face pale and sweating. "Luca? Did you find it?"
"It’s gone," Luca snarled, marching directly toward the empty chair where Camilla Bellini had been sitting twenty minutes ago. "Camilla took it."
Marcus gasped. "Camilla? But she’s just a kid..."
"She’s a Falcone," Luca snapped, scanning the room. He looked at Leo. "Where is she?"
Leo frowned, tapping his earpiece. "Boss, she asked to use the restroom right after you tore up the place card. I had a man stationed in the hall, but... wait." Leo pressed his fingers to his ear, his face darkening. "The guard in the north hallway isn't responding."
Luca drew his weapon. The heavy, black pistol looked terrifyingly natural in his tattooed hand. Several guests screamed and ducked under the table.
"Lock down the estate," Luca ordered, racking the slide. "Nobody gets in or out. Find her."
I looked toward the table. Olivia was still sitting there, trembling, clutching the edges of her chair. She looked so small, so completely out of her depth in this world of blood and betrayal.
I walked over to her and gently put my hand on her shoulder. "Olivia, come with me. We need to get you out of the crossfire."
She nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. I pulled her up and led her toward the kitchen doors.
"Wait," Pietro Bellini, the Italian conductor, stepped into our path. He looked shaken but strangely resolute. "Miss Emily. You speak Italian. You understood what Vanessa was doing tonight. You have a good heart."
"Mr. Bellini, please move," I said, shielding Olivia.
"I need to tell you something," Pietro insisted, keeping his voice low. "When Camilla asked to leave the table, she didn't just walk away. She whispered something to Vanessa in Italian."
I froze. "What did she say?"
Pietro swallowed hard. "She said, 'The old man’s insurance policy is in the trunk. I’m leaving now.'"
I felt a cold chill run down my spine. The old man’s insurance policy.
"She wasn't talking about the ledger," I whispered, the realization dawning on me with horrifying clarity. "Enzo Moretti didn't just keep paper records. He kept leverage."
I turned and ran back to Luca, grabbing his arm just as he was about to head into the hallway. "Luca! Wait!"
He spun around, his gun raised, his eyes wild. "Emily, get back to the kitchen!"
"Camilla isn't just taking the ledger!" I shouted over the rising panic in the room. "Pietro heard her tell Vanessa she’s taking 'the old man’s insurance policy' from the trunk of her car!"
Luca went completely still. The anger in his eyes was instantly replaced by a deep, visceral terror.
"The insurance policy," Luca breathed. He looked at Marcus. "Did our father tell Vanessa about the safety deposit box?"
Marcus shook his head frantically. "I don't know! I swear to God, Luca, I didn't know he told anyone!"
"What is the insurance policy?" I asked, my heart pounding.
Luca didn't answer me. He grabbed his radio. "Leo! Camilla is heading for her car in the front drive! Do not let her start that engine!"
We ran. We sprinted down the grand staircase, bursting through the front doors into the cool Chicago night air.
The driveway was chaotic. Security guards were running toward the iron gates, but it was too late.
Camilla’s sleek black Mercedes was already reversing out of its parking spot at a terrifying speed.
"Stop her!" Luca roared, raising his gun.
But he couldn't shoot. The car was heavily tinted, and Camilla was a nineteen-year-old girl. Even in the mafia, there were lines Luca refused to cross.
The Mercedes spun its tires, tearing across the manicured lawn, dodging the security vehicles trying to block the driveway. She smashed through the heavy iron side gate, tearing the metal hinges right off the stone pillars, and disappeared into the night.
Luca lowered his gun, cursing violently in Italian. He kicked the stone pillar, his chest heaving.
Leo ran up to us, out of breath. "Boss, she’s gone. But we have her license plate. We can track her."
"Do it," Luca ordered. "Put every man we have on the streets."
I stood in the driveway, wrapping my arms around myself to ward off the chill. "Luca... what did she take? What was the insurance policy?"
Luca looked at me. His dark eyes were filled with a profound, exhausted sorrow.
"When my father started the embezzlement ring," Luca explained quietly, "he knew the feds would eventually catch on. So he created an insurance policy to guarantee he would never do time. He gathered blackmail on every federal judge, police commissioner, and politician in this city. Videos. Photos. Bribes."
I gasped. "If the Falcones have that..."
"They won't just destroy my family," Luca said grimly. "They’ll own the city. They’ll have the police in their pocket. They can kill anyone they want, and no one will ever investigate it."
He looked toward the dark street where Camilla had vanished.
"We have to get it back tonight," Luca said. "Or tomorrow, Chicago belongs to the Falcones."
He turned to walk back into the house, but stopped when he saw something lying in the grass near the broken gate.
He walked over and picked it up.
It was a small, black velvet box.
Luca frowned, opening it under the glow of the security lights.
Inside the box rested a beautiful, antique silver pocket watch. It was heavily tarnished, the glass cracked across the face.
I recognized it instantly.
"That’s Thomas’s watch," I whispered, stepping closer. "Olivia told me her father never took it off. She’s been looking for it since he died."
Luca stared at the watch, his thumb tracing the crack in the glass. "Why would Camilla drop this while fleeing?"
He pressed the small latch on the side of the watch. The silver cover popped open.
Inside, tucked behind the hands of the clock, was a tiny, folded piece of paper.
Luca pulled it out and unfolded it.
He read the words, and the blood completely drained from his face.
He handed the paper to me, his hands shaking slightly.
May you like
I read the messy, panicked handwriting. It was Thomas Reed’s writing.
"Luca, if you're reading this, I'm already dead. But you need to know the truth before the Falcones find her. Olivia isn't my biological daughter. She is yours."
