Chapter 11 - THE FINAL THREAD
The warmth in the office vanished instantly.
I stared at the phone, my heart dropping. "Christina? How are you calling from a federal prison?"
"I traded some information to a guard for a burner phone," Christina rasped. She sounded awful. The arrogant, pristine woman who had humiliated Frank was entirely gone.
"Don't ever call this number again, Christina," Marco said coldly, reaching to hang up.
"Wait!" Christina shrieked, desperation bleeding through the speaker. "Marco, please! You have to help me! My mother... Elizabeth... she's lost her mind."
"Your mother is serving a life sentence," Marco said flatly. "She can't hurt anyone."
"She has friends on the outside!" Christina cried. "Marco, she found out I made a deal with the feds to get a reduced sentence. I told them everything about her offshore accounts. She's put a hit out on me inside the prison. They're going to kill me tonight!"
I looked at Marco. He stood perfectly still, his face an unreadable mask of stone.
"I don't care," Marco said.
"Marco, I know I was horrible to your father," Christina sobbed. "I know I deserve to be here. But please, I don't want to die in here. Call your contacts. Have me moved to solitary. Just make one call to protect me!"
The silence stretched for a long, agonizing moment.
I looked at the man holding my hand. He had the power to save her life with a single phone call. He also had every right to let her burn in the fire she had started.
Marco leaned closer to the phone.
"You watched my father's hands shake, and you smiled," Marco said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, absolute zero. "You filed papers to lock him in a cage while his mind was perfectly sound."
"I'm sorry!" Christina wailed.
"You took away his dignity," Marco continued softly. "You don't get to ask for mine."
He reached out and pressed the end call button.
The line went dead.
He picked up the phone, snapped it in half, and tossed it into the trash can.
He turned back to me, the coldness vanishing from his eyes, replaced immediately by the warmth that I loved.
"Are you okay?" Marco asked gently.
I took a deep breath, and nodded. I didn't pity Christina. She had made her bed, crafted from cruelty and greed. The universe was simply balancing the scales.
"I'm fine," I said, squeezing his hand. "I just want to go help Frank decorate that cake."
Marco smiled, kissing my forehead. "Let's go."
We walked back out into the bustling café. The afternoon sun was streaming through the large front windows, casting a golden glow over the tables.
Luca and Antonio had finished their chess game and were arguing loudly about a soccer match on the small television in the corner. My mother was sitting with them, laughing at their dramatic hand gestures.
Frank was placing the final strawberries on the massive chocolate cake. He looked up as we approached, his eyes darting to the diamond necklace resting on my chest.
A slow, brilliant smile spread across the old man's face.
He didn't say a word. He just reached across the counter and patted Marco's cheek.
"Emma, sweetheart," Frank said, wiping his hands on his apron. "Do me a favor? The dinner rush is going to start soon. Go put the 'Reserved' sign on the big family table in the back."
"Of course, Pop," I smiled.
As I walked toward the back of the café, I looked at the long, beautiful oak table. It was set for eight people.
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There were no empty chairs. There was no tension. There was no fear.
Just a family that had fought through hell to find each other again.
