Chapter 5 - The Sins of the Uncle
The heavy gold pocket watch slipped from my trembling fingers, hitting the hardwood floor with a dull thud.
The glass face shattered, completely obscuring the photograph of my grandmother and the baby who had grown into a monster.
“Your uncle?” Luca repeated, his voice dangerously low. He didn't take his eyes, or his gun, off Carlo Romano.
Carlo’s polished veneer had completely cracked. The wealthy, sophisticated businessman was gone, replaced by a desperate, cornered animal.
“Elena was a fool,” Carlo spat, his thick Italian accent thickening with rage. “She was the rightful heir to the Syndicate, and what did she do? She ran! She took the Signet ring and fled to America to marry a worthless mechanic, leaving her only son behind in Naples to be raised by wolves!”
I stared at him, my heart hammering against my ribs.
My grandmother had always told me my grandfather died before I was born. She never spoke of a son in Italy. She only spoke of my mother, born a few years after she arrived in Chicago.
“She left you to protect the family from you,” I said, the realization settling like ice in my stomach. “She knew you were corrupt.”
“She stole my birthright!” Carlo roared, slamming his cane against the floor. “I spent fifty years building my own empire, scraping for every ounce of respect, while the five families whispered that I was illegitimate without the ring!”
Carlo pointed a trembling finger at me.
“And then I come to Chicago to collect a simple debt from this pathetic Bellini girl, and I find the lost ring hanging around the neck of a housemaid!”
Michael stepped closer to Ivy, shielding her eyes from the broken glass on the floor.
“You knew who Emily was before tonight?” Michael asked, his voice tight.
Carlo let out a dark chuckle.
“Of course I did,” he sneered. “I recognized the girl the moment I walked into this mansion. She has Elena’s eyes. But I didn't know she wore the ring until she pulled it out.”
Vanessa, still slumped in her chair, let out a bitter, broken laugh.
She looked like a ghost. Her perfect hair was ruined, her red dress stained and wrinkled.
“You really are a snake, Carlo,” Vanessa whispered. “You had it all planned. You were going to take Ivy, extort my father, and use the Moretti wedding to secure your power in America. And now you want to kidnap the true heir.”
“I don't want to kidnap her,” Carlo corrected coldly. “I want to kill her. Once the girl is dead, the ring is mine, and I am the undisputed head of the Syndicate.”
He snapped his fingers.
The three enforcers raised their weapons again, aiming them directly at Luca and me.
“Shoot them both,” Carlo ordered. “Leave the brother and the child. I only need the ring.”
Time seemed to slow down.
I saw the lead enforcer’s finger tighten on the trigger.
I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the impact.
But instead of a gunshot, a loud, metallic click echoed from the back of the room.
Everyone froze.
I opened my eyes.
Standing in the doorway, holding a massive, double-barreled shotgun aimed squarely at Carlo’s head, was the last person I ever expected to see.
Mrs. Higgins. The elderly, gray-haired head housekeeper of the Moretti mansion.
“I suggest you tell your boys to lower those pistols, Mr. Romano,” Mrs. Higgins said, her sweet, grandmotherly voice carrying an edge of pure steel. “Or I'll paint this antique wallpaper with your brains.”
Carlo’s jaw dropped.
Luca didn't miss a beat. He stepped forward and pressed the barrel of his Glock directly beneath Carlo’s chin.
“Tell them,” Luca commanded softly.
Carlo swallowed hard. He raised a shaking hand.
“Drop them,” Carlo hissed to his men.
The three enforcers slowly lowered their weapons, tossing them onto the floor.
“Good boys,” Mrs. Higgins said pleasantly, stepping fully into the room.
I stared at her in shock. “Mrs. Higgins?”
The sweet old woman offered me a warm smile.
“Your grandmother Elena didn't just leave you a ring, Emily,” Mrs. Higgins said gently. “She left you a shadow guard. Some of us swore a blood oath to protect the true heir, even if it meant scrubbing floors for a decade to keep an eye on you.”
Another massive revelation hit me like a physical blow.
My grandmother hadn't been a helpless refugee. She had been a queen in hiding, and she had built a wall of protection around me without me ever knowing.
“You’re finished, Carlo,” Luca said, his voice laced with venom.
He grabbed Carlo by the collar of his expensive suit and slammed him against the wall. The Italian businessman gasped for air.
“Michael,” Luca ordered, not looking away from Carlo. “Take Ivy upstairs. Pack a bag. You're leaving.”
Michael nodded, scooping Ivy into his arms.
“Wait!” Vanessa cried, reaching out toward her daughter. “Please! Let me come with you! I can protect her!”
Michael stopped. He looked back at the woman who had broken his heart, hidden his child, and almost gotten her killed out of sheer cowardice.
“You’ve done enough protecting, Vanessa,” Michael said, his voice completely devoid of emotion.
Ivy peeked over Michael’s shoulder.
She looked at her mother.
She didn't cry. She didn't reach out.
Instead, the little girl reached into her pocket and pulled out a delicate, pearl bracelet. The matching piece to the necklace Vanessa wore.
Ivy tossed it onto the floor, right next to the broken pocket watch.
“Goodbye, Aunt Vanessa,” Ivy said quietly.
Vanessa let out a wail of pure agony, collapsing onto the floor as Michael carried their daughter out of the room.
Luca watched his brother leave, ensuring they were safe.
Then, he turned his attention back to Carlo.
“Mrs. Higgins,” Luca said coldly. “Take these three enforcers down to the wine cellar. Tie them up. If they speak, shoot them.”
“With pleasure, Mr. Moretti,” the elderly housekeeper replied cheerfully, motioning with her shotgun for the men to move.
Once the room was empty of everyone except Luca, Carlo, Vanessa, and me, Luca finally lowered his gun.
He reached out and snatched the heavy gold pocket watch off the floor.
He shoved it into Carlo’s chest.
“You have one hour to get out of Chicago,” Luca told the businessman. “If I ever see your face in my city again, I won't just kill you. I'll send Emily to Rome to take your entire empire.”
Carlo glared at me, his eyes burning with a lifetime of hatred.
“This isn't over, little girl,” Carlo spat, adjusting his ruined jacket. “You can't hide behind the Morettis forever.”
Carlo turned and limped out of the dining room, his footsteps echoing down the grand hallway.
Silence fell over the destroyed dining room.
Vanessa was still weeping on the floor, surrounded by broken glass, spilled wine, and the remnants of her lies.
Luca didn't even look at her.
He turned to me.
His dark eyes softened instantly. He reached out and gently touched my arm.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice thick with genuine concern.
I shook my head, tears finally spilling over my eyelashes. “No. I’m okay.”
Luca reached into his pocket and pulled out a pristine white handkerchief.
He didn't hand it to me.
Instead, the billionaire head of the Chicago mafia gently wiped the tears from my cheeks himself.
“You're not a maid anymore, Emily,” Luca whispered, his thumb brushing my jawline. “You're staying with me.”
I looked up into his eyes, my heart fluttering uncontrollably.
But before I could reply, the mansion’s heavy front doors burst open in the distance.
Heavy, urgent footsteps pounded down the hallway.
It was Michael.
He ran into the dining room, his face completely pale, breathing heavily.
May you like
His arms were empty.
“Luca,” Michael gasped, pure terror in his eyes. “Ivy is gone.”
