Chapter 5 - THE PRICE OF A PROMISE
Vanessa’s heels clicked against the top step of the cellar stairs. The sound was sharp, rhythmic, and terrifying in the cramped, damp space.
The three men behind her tightened their grips on their crowbars, their faces hidden in the shadows of the restaurant above.
Luca didn’t raise his hands. He didn’t flinch. He just stared up at the woman he was supposed to marry in six months.
“You followed us,” Luca said, his voice dangerously calm.
“Of course I followed you,” Vanessa sneered. She pointed the barrel of the gun directly at Luca’s chest. “My father is a coward. The moment you walked out of the dinner, he started packing his bags for the airport. But I am not my father.”
She gestured toward the open lockbox with her free hand.
“Bring the ledger up, Luca. Now.”
“Why?” Luca asked, slowly shifting his weight so he was standing slightly in front of his mother and me. “If your father orchestrated the hit on my family twenty-five years ago, the ledger doesn’t prove anything. It only proves my father paid Hannah’s mother’s medical bills.”
Vanessa let out a dry, humorless laugh.
“You really don’t know, do you? Your father was a sentimental old fool, but he wasn’t stupid.”
Vanessa took one step down the wooden stairs.
“Turn to the back cover of the ledger, Luca. Look inside the binding.”
Luca didn’t move.
“Do it!” Vanessa barked, cocking the gun.
Slowly, Luca opened the thick leather book. He flipped past the decades of medical payments until he reached the heavy cardboard backing. There was a small slit cut into the leather.
He slid two fingers inside and pulled out a small, folded piece of thick parchment paper.
He opened it.
Even in the dim light of the flashlight, I could see the official state seal stamped at the top.
“What is this?” Luca demanded.
“It’s the deed,” Enzo said quietly from the corner.
Vanessa smiled, a cold, predatory pulling of her lips. “Exactly. When my father arranged the hit on your family, he wasn’t paid in cash. He was paid in real estate. The rival family transferred three city blocks over to a shell corporation my father controls.”
She pointed the gun at the parchment in Luca’s hand.
“But your father figured it out before he died. He stole the original deed and hid it in that ledger. Without that piece of paper, my father’s empire is built on sand. If your Uncle Roberto ever finds out Bellini orchestrated the hit on Matteo… the entire mafia commission will butcher us.”
Teresa spat on the dirt floor.
“You are a snake,” Teresa hissed in Italian. “Just like your father.”
Vanessa’s eyes flashed with anger. She aimed the gun directly at Teresa’s chest.
“Shut up, old woman. I’ve listened to you mumble in that pathetic language for a year. It ends tonight. I take the ledger, I take the deed, and I burn this restaurant to the ground with you inside it.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. I looked around the tiny cellar. There was no back exit. No windows. Just dirt walls and the stairs blocked by men with weapons.
We were going to die here.
Luca closed the ledger. He held it in his left hand, the deed tucked safely inside.
Then, he reached into his overcoat pocket with his right hand.
Vanessa stiffened. “Keep your hands where I can see them!”
Luca pulled his hand out slowly. He wasn’t holding a gun.
He was holding a heavy, vintage brass lighter.
He flipped the top open with his thumb. Clink.
“You want the ledger, Vanessa?” Luca asked softly.
He struck the flint. A bright yellow flame burst into the damp cellar air.
Vanessa’s eyes widened in horror. “Luca, don’t you dare.”
“My uncle Roberto is a violent man,” Luca said, holding the flame inches from the dry, weathered leather of the ledger. “If I burn this deed, you have nothing left to hide. But you also have nothing left to leverage. Your father’s empire disappears into the wind.”
“Stop!” Vanessa screamed.
“You think you cornered me in my own family’s restaurant?” Luca’s voice suddenly boomed, the terrifying authority of a mafia boss finally breaking through his calm facade. “You think I walked out of that dining room tonight without making a phone call?”
Vanessa froze. “What are you talking about?”
Luca didn’t look at her. He looked past her, toward the shadows of the restaurant above.
“Tell her, Enzo,” Luca commanded.
Enzo stepped forward into the light. The old man reached into his apron pocket and pulled out a thick, heavy black rosary. The beads were made of polished obsidian. The cross was solid silver, stained with a dark, rusted color.
Blood.
Vanessa gasped, stumbling back up the stairs.
“No,” she whispered, her hands shaking violently.
Heavy, slow footsteps echoed across the floorboards above.
The three men with crowbars suddenly backed away from the stairwell, their eyes wide with panic. One of them dropped his weapon with a loud clatter.
A massive figure stepped into the light at the top of the stairs, standing right behind Vanessa.
He wore a dark pinstripe suit and leaned heavily on a silver-tipped cane.
Uncle Roberto.
He reached out and gently placed his massive, ring-covered hand on Vanessa’s shoulder.
“Hello, little bird,” Roberto rasped, his voice sounding like grinding stones.
Vanessa dropped the gun. It tumbled down the wooden stairs, landing at Luca’s feet.
“Uncle Roberto,” Vanessa sobbed, spinning around. “I can explain.”
Roberto didn’t look at her. He looked down into the cellar, his eyes fixing on the rusted, blood-stained key in Luca’s hand, and the rosary in Enzo’s hand.
“You don’t need to explain, Vanessa,” Roberto said softly. “Your father already did. Right before he tried to board a private jet at O’Hare.”
Vanessa collapsed to her knees on the floorboards, covering her face.
May you like
Roberto looked down at Luca.
“Bring the ledger upstairs, nephew,” Roberto commanded. “It’s time to settle the family accounts.”
