Chapter 4 - THE POCKET WATCH AND THE TRUTH
The static on Rossi's radio sounded like a ticking bomb.
"Lock the doors!" Luca roared, spinning around and pushing Anna, Grace, and me further into the cramped clinic office.
Outside, the screech of tires echoed through the thin walls, followed by the heavy slam of car doors.
I gripped Grace’s hand. The thirteen-year-old was terrified, but she didn’t cry. She had grown up in a mafia household; she knew what black SUVs meant.
Luca held the silver pocket watch, his knuckles turning white. He looked at his sister.
"You told me Marco was dead," Anna whispered, her eyes wide with shock. "Celia told me my fiancé was killed the night Grace was born!"
Celia stood in the doorway, her aristocratic posture crumbling. She looked older, suddenly fragile.
"He was supposed to be dead," Celia confessed, her voice shaking. "Vincenzo ordered the hit. They shot him three times. But Marco survived. He went into hiding in Italy for eight years to recover."
"And you let me believe he was in a grave?" Anna cried out, stepping toward her aunt. "You let me grieve for thirteen years?"
"I had to!" Celia snapped, though tears filled her eyes. "If you knew he was alive, you would have gone looking for him. You would have led him straight to Grace. Do you know what the Romanos do to illegitimate children, Anna? They don't celebrate them. They erase them."
Luca stepped between them. "How did Marco find us tonight? He’s been back in Chicago for five years. Why tonight?"
Celia looked away, her hands trembling.
"Aunt Celia," Luca warned, his voice a low, lethal threat. "What did you do?"
"I stopped paying him," Celia whispered.
The room went dead silent.
"Paying him?" Luca repeated.
Celia swallowed hard. "When Marco returned from Italy five years ago, he found out Grace was alive. He found out I was raising his daughter. He demanded custody. I knew if he took her, he would use her as a pawn. So... I made a deal."
My stomach dropped. I looked at the beautiful, terrified little girl holding my hand.
"I paid him two million dollars a year to stay away," Celia admitted, pulling her designer coat tightly around herself. "From my own private accounts. I bought Grace's safety. But my investments tanked this year. I missed the last two payments."
"You paid blackmail to a rival boss for five years?" Luca yelled, furious. "You compromised the entire family!"
"I protected my granddaughter!" Celia screamed back, pointing at Grace. "I loved her! I did what you wouldn't understand!"
Suddenly, the clinic's front glass door shattered.
We all jumped. Heavy footsteps crunched over the broken glass in the waiting room.
"Luca Moretti," a smooth, chilling voice called out from the hallway. "I believe you have something that belongs to me."
Rossi drew his weapon, stepping in front of the office door. Luca pulled his own gun from his shoulder holster.
"Stay behind me," Luca ordered Anna and Grace. He looked at me. "Emma. Keep her safe."
I nodded, pulling Grace behind a large metal filing cabinet. I wrapped my arms around her, shielding her small body with my own.
Luca stepped into the hallway.
Marco Romano stood in the waiting room. He was a striking man in his late forties, wearing a tailored charcoal suit. His face bore a faint, jagged scar along his jawline—a souvenir from the night he was supposedly killed. He was flanked by four heavily armed men.
"Marco," Luca said calmly, keeping his weapon aimed at the rival boss's chest. "You're out of your territory."
"I'm exactly where I need to be," Marco smiled, though his eyes were completely devoid of warmth. He looked past Luca, catching a glimpse of Anna in the office.
Marco's smile vanished. "Anna. You look well."
Anna stepped out from behind the desk. Her breath hitched. The man she had mourned for over a decade was standing ten feet away.
"Marco?" she whispered.
"I missed you, my love," Marco said softly. Then, his eyes shifted. He saw Grace peeking out from behind my arm.
Marco’s expression hardened into something predatory.
"She has my eyes," Marco noted. He looked back at Luca. "I've been very patient, Luca. I let your aunt play house for thirteen years because the checks cleared. But the checks stopped. The lease is up. I'm taking my daughter."
"Over my dead body," Luca said, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Marco chuckled. "That can be arranged. But before we start shooting in a crowded clinic, you should know why I'm really here."
Marco reached into his jacket. Rossi tensed, but Marco slowly pulled out a folded legal document. He tossed it onto the linoleum floor.
"Read it," Marco instructed.
Luca didn't take his eyes off Marco. "Emma. Grab the paper."
My legs felt like lead, but I let go of Grace, crawled forward on the glass-covered floor, and picked up the document. I retreated behind Luca and unfolded it.
It was a certified legal trust agreement, bearing the official seal of the State of Illinois.
I scanned the legal jargon, my eyes widening as I read the bottom paragraph.
"Mr. Moretti," I said, my voice shaking. "It's a trust fund. Set up by your father, Vincenzo."
"My father hated the Romanos," Luca argued. "He wouldn't set up a trust for Marco."
"It's not for Marco," I read quickly. "It's for Grace. Vincenzo set it up the day she was born."
Celia gasped, covering her mouth.
"Ah, you didn't know?" Marco mocked, smiling at Celia. "Vincenzo didn't want to kill the baby, Celia. He wanted to weaponize her. He put half of the legitimate Moretti empire—the hotels, the shipping routes, the real estate—into a blind trust."
Marco pointed at Grace.
"That trust unlocks on her thirteenth birthday," Marco said. "Which is tomorrow."
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He looked dead into Luca's eyes.
"And the trust stipulates that whoever holds legal custody of the child inherits the voting rights to the empire. So, hand over my daughter, Luca. Or I burn Chicago to the ground."
