Chapter 5 - THE ROSARY IN THE SNOW
“Hello, Thomas. It’s been a long time.”
Celeste’s voice was as cold as the winter draft blowing through our shattered front door.
I instinctively stepped in front of my father, shielding him. The three armed men fanned out, their silenced weapons leveled directly at our chests.
Celeste stepped fully into the small kitchen. She had changed out of her burgundy engagement gown and was now wearing a dark trench coat, her hair pulled back tightly. She looked nothing like the elegant socialite from the dinner party. She looked like a predator.
“Miss Warren,” I stammered, my heart hammering against my ribs. “What are you doing here?”
She didn't look at me. Her icy gaze was fixed entirely on my father.
“I’m tying up loose ends, Olivia,” Celeste said smoothly. She reached into her trench coat pocket and pulled out the yellow train ticket I had found earlier. “You were a very clumsy maid tonight. Marco confiscated my ticket. He confiscated my key.”
She took a step closer.
“But he doesn't know the whole story yet. And he never will. Because the only two people alive who can corroborate Daniel’s lies are going to disappear tonight.”
My father gripped my shoulder, gently pulling me behind him. Despite his age and exhaustion, he stood tall, facing the armed men without flinching.
“You’re too late, Susie,” my father said, his voice surprisingly steady.
Celeste’s eyes flared with sudden fury at the sound of her real name.
“Antonio Bellini trusted me to inspect that car,” my father continued. “I found the cut brake line. I found the tampering. And I saw your father sneaking out of the garage the night before it happened.”
I gasped, staring at my father’s back. Celeste’s father was the mechanic who sabotaged the car?
“My father was a drunk who needed money,” Celeste spat. “He took a payoff from a rival family to cut those brakes. He didn't know Antonio was going to drive the car that night. It was just a job!”
“It was murder!” my father shouted. “I tried to warn Antonio, but I was too late. When I went to the police, your father threatened to kill my wife and my little girl if I ever spoke a word. So I stayed quiet. For twenty-two years, I lived with the guilt to keep Olivia safe.”
Celeste smiled maliciously. “And you did a wonderful job, Thomas. Right up until your daughter decided to take a job cleaning the floors of the man whose father you helped cover up the murder of.”
“Marco knows about the key,” I interjected desperately, trying to buy time. “If we disappear, he’ll know you did it!”
“Marco is currently tearing his estate apart looking for me,” Celeste laughed. “By the time he figures out I slipped out the service entrance, you two will be buried in the foundation of a new high-rise in Jersey, and I will be across the border.”
She snapped her fingers. “Take them.”
The two men lunged forward.
My father didn't hesitate. He grabbed the heavy pot of cold coffee from the stove and hurled it directly into the face of the closest gunman.
The man screamed, dropping his weapon as the heavy glass shattered against his skull.
“Run, Livvy!” my father roared, shoving me toward the back door of the kitchen.
I hit the heavy metal door, throwing the deadbolt. I spilled out into the freezing, snow-covered alleyway behind our apartment building.
I heard a gunshot inside. A muted, terrifying thwip.
“Dad!” I screamed, trying to run back inside.
But my father stumbled out the door right behind me. He grabbed my arm, his grip like a vice, and dragged me down the dark alley.
“Don't stop!” he grunted, his breathing heavy.
We ran blindly through the snow, slipping on the icy pavement. We ducked behind a row of industrial dumpsters just as the back door swung open again.
Footsteps crunched heavily in the snow nearby.
“Find them!” Celeste’s voice echoed in the alley. “They can't have gone far!”
I huddled against my father, trembling violently.
I looked down. My father’s hand was clutching his side. Dark, warm blood was seeping through his thick work jacket, dripping onto the pristine white snow.
“Dad,” I choked out, tears instantly blinding me. “You’re shot.”
“It’s just a graze,” he lied, his face pale and sweating despite the cold. He leaned his head back against the brick wall, fighting for breath.
He reached into his pocket with a trembling hand and pulled out a tarnished silver rosary.
He pressed it into my palm, folding my fingers tightly over the cold metal beads.
“Listen to me, Olivia,” he rasped, his eyes locking onto mine with desperate intensity. “You have to get to the prison. You have to find Daniel Bellini before Marco does.”
“I’m not leaving you here!” I cried softly.
“You have to!” he urged, gripping my shoulders. “Daniel knows the truth. He knows why I kept the secret. Celeste didn't just blackmail me, Olivia. She blackmailed Daniel. She found out he was embezzling money, and she threatened to expose him to the police unless he took the fall for her father’s crime.”
I stared at him, the pieces finally snapping together. Daniel hadn't betrayed Marco. He had sacrificed his own freedom to stop Celeste from destroying the family name.
“Show Daniel this rosary,” my father commanded, his strength fading quickly. “He’ll know I sent you. He’ll know it’s time to tell Marco everything.”
Footsteps crunched closer to our hiding spot.
“Check behind the dumpsters!” a deep voice barked.
My father looked at me, a fierce, protective love shining in his eyes.
“I love you, Livvy. Now go.”
Before I could stop him, my father stood up from behind the dumpster, waving his bloody arms.
“Over here, you bastards!” he shouted, drawing their attention entirely away from me.
He took off running in the opposite direction.
The gunmen yelled, chasing after him into the darkness.
I clamped my hands over my mouth to muffle my sobs, clutching the silver rosary so tightly the beads dug into my skin. I waited until the alley was completely silent before I crept out from the shadows.
I didn't have my car keys. I didn't have my phone.
But I had a destination.
It was 4:00 AM.
Daniel Bellini was being released in exactly four hours.
I turned and started running toward the highway, praying I wouldn't be too late.
But as I reached the edge of the alley, a pair of blinding headlights suddenly flashed on, pinning me against the brick wall like a deer in the crosshairs.
A sleek, black SUV idled at the curb.
The tinted window slowly rolled down.
I braced myself for the gunshot, squeezing my eyes shut.
But the voice that called out to me didn't belong to a killer.
“Get in, Olivia.”
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I opened my eyes.
Sitting in the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, was Marco Bellini.
