Chapter 5 - THE ECHO IN THE SHIPYARD
The recoil of the gun was vicious. It snapped my wrists backward, sending a shockwave of pain up to my elbows.
The deafening crack echoed off the metal shipping containers, temporarily drowning out the torrential rain.
Marcus Bellini froze.
He looked down at his chest.
A dark, blooming stain was rapidly spreading across the crisp white fabric of his expensive dress shirt, just below his collarbone.
The pistol slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the wet asphalt. He swayed on his feet for a second, his reptilian eyes wide with absolute shock, before his knees buckled and he collapsed into a muddy puddle.
Silence slammed into the shipyard, heavy and suffocating.
The remaining Bellini guards lowered their weapons, staring in stunned disbelief at their fallen boss.
I stood there, my hands trembling violently, the gun still pointed forward, a thin wisp of smoke curling from the barrel. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't feel my legs.
I just killed a man.
“Father!” Vanessa shrieked, breaking the silence.
She scrambled out from behind the SUV, her sleek black trench coat dragging in the mud, and threw herself onto Marcus’s chest.
“You shot him!” Vanessa screamed, looking up at me with pure, unadulterated hatred. “You filthy maid, you killed him!”
I dropped the gun. It hit the ground with a dull thud.
I turned and dropped to my knees, wrapping my arms frantically around Lily. I buried my face in her wet hair, sobbing uncontrollably.
“It’s okay, Mommy, I’m right here,” Lily whispered, her tiny hands patting my back.
Luca pushed himself up from the ground, ignoring his injured leg, and limped quickly toward us. He kicked the dropped gun far out of reach and knelt beside me, placing a strong, protective hand on my back.
“You’re safe, Claire,” Luca said softly, his chest heaving. “You saved us.”
“I’m a murderer,” I choked out, unable to look at him.
“You are a mother who protected her child,” Luca corrected fiercely. “Never apologize for that.”
Marco emerged from the shadows of the crane tower, his sniper rifle slung over his shoulder, a tactical flashlight cutting through the gloom.
“The remaining guards have surrendered, Boss,” Marco reported, sweeping his light over the men who had dropped their weapons.
Luca stood up, towering over the scene.
He limped toward the puddle where Marcus lay bleeding, with Vanessa sobbing over him.
Arthur Vance, the mechanic who had caused the crash seven years ago, was groaning a few feet away, clutching his shattered shoulder.
Luca looked down at Arthur.
“Arthur Vance,” Luca said, his voice deadly quiet. “Seven years ago, you t-boned my car, left me to burn, and then forced Michael Hayes to cover for you. You killed a good man to hide your cowardice.”
Arthur coughed, blood spitting from his lips. “Marcus made me do it,” he wheezed. “I was drunk. I hit you. Marcus said if the Commission found out I almost killed the Moretti heir, they’d wipe out the Bellinis. He paid the medical examiner to fake the aneurysm. He did it all.”
Vanessa’s head snapped up.
“Shut up, Arthur!” Vanessa hissed. “My father was protecting you!”
“He was protecting his own power!” Luca roared, his voice echoing off the metal containers.
Luca reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the thick, black ledger he had taken from his safe.
He threw it onto the wet ground next to Vanessa.
“Do you know what this is, Vanessa?” Luca asked coldly. “It’s my father’s shadow ledger. It details every illegal shipment Marcus ever stole from the Commission. I brought it here tonight to trade for Lily.”
Vanessa stared at the black book, her face pale.
“But Marcus is dead,” Luca continued. “So the trade is off. Tomorrow morning, I am handing this ledger over to the Commission. The Bellini family will be stripped of their wealth, their territory, and their lives.”
Vanessa’s eyes widened in terror. “Luca, please. You can't. They’ll kill me.”
“You should have thought of that before you stole three million dollars from a widow,” Luca said without an ounce of pity.
He turned to Marco.
“Bind Arthur and load him into the trunk. We are delivering him to the Commission along with the ledger. Leave Marcus and Vanessa here.”
“Wait,” I said softly.
I stood up, holding Lily’s hand tightly, and walked over to where Vanessa was kneeling in the mud.
She looked up at me, expecting me to gloat.
But I didn't care about revenge. I only cared about the truth.
“Where is the money?” I asked, my voice surprisingly steady.
Vanessa sneered, a defiant, ugly look twisting her features.
“It’s gone,” she spat. “I told Luca. I used it to pay off my brother Julian’s gambling debts to the Chicago Outfit. Every last penny.”
I stared at her.
“You’re lying.”
Vanessa flinched. “I’m not lying! The Outfit threatened to kill Julian! I forged your name on the cheque and wired the money straight to their accounts!”
“I don't believe you,” I said quietly.
Luca frowned, stepping closer. “Claire, my investigators confirmed the transfer. The money went to an offshore account controlled by the Outfit.”
“I’m sure it did,” I said, looking at Luca. “But it didn't pay off Julian’s debt.”
“How do you know that?” Luca asked.
I turned back to Vanessa, my eyes locking onto the diamond earrings still glittering in her ears despite the mud and rain.
“Because three years ago, when Michael died, I tried to find Julian Bellini,” I said, my voice rising. “Michael had mentioned him once. He said a guy named Julian hung around the freight yard, trying to buy stolen goods. When Michael died, I was desperate. I tried to find Julian to see if Michael was owed any money.”
The color completely drained from Vanessa’s face.
“And what did you find, Claire?” Luca asked, his voice tightening.
“I found out Julian Bellini died in a car crash in Italy,” I said firmly. “Four years ago.”
The silence in the shipyard was deafening.
Luca stared at me, then slowly turned his gaze toward Vanessa.
“Julian has been dead for four years?” Luca asked, his voice dangerously low.
Vanessa scrambled backward, slipping in the mud, her eyes darting around wildly for an escape.
“Vanessa,” Luca said, taking a slow, terrifying step toward her. “If Julian died a year before Michael... who did you give the three million dollars to?”
Vanessa shook her head frantically. “I... I was confused! It was a different debt! For my father!”
“Liar,” Luca snarled, drawing his weapon and aiming it directly at her head. “You forged the signature. You stole the money. Where did it go?!”
“Don't shoot her!” a voice suddenly called out from the shadows of the containers.
Everyone froze.
A tall man stepped into the flickering light of the halogen lamps. He wore an expensive gray suit, completely dry despite the rain, holding a black umbrella over his head.
He wasn't a guard. He wasn't a Bellini.
He was a man I recognized from the engagement dinner. The older businessman Luca had been speaking with when Vanessa humiliated me.
“Don Salvatore,” Luca breathed, lowering his gun slightly out of respect.
Don Salvatore was the head of the Chicago Mafia Commission. The boss of all bosses.
“Put the gun away, Luca,” Salvatore said smoothly, his voice carrying an unquestionable authority. “The girl’s life belongs to me.”
“With respect, Don Salvatore,” Luca said, standing his ground. “She stole three million dollars from a widow under my protection.”
“I know,” Salvatore said softly. “Because she gave the money to me.”
My heart stopped.
Luca stared at the older man in complete disbelief.
“She gave the money to the Commission?” Luca asked. “Why?”
Salvatore smiled, a cold, empty gesture.
He walked slowly over to the black duffel bag I had dropped earlier—the bag filled with C4 explosives.
He nudged it with the tip of his expensive leather shoe.
“Because Vanessa Bellini isn't just a thief, Luca,” Salvatore said calmly. “She’s my informant.”
He looked up, his eyes locking onto Luca’s.
“And she bought a seat at my table by promising to help me dismantle the Moretti family from the inside.”
Before Luca could react, Salvatore raised a small remote control in his hand.
May you like
He pressed a red button.
The duffel bag full of C4 erupted in a blinding, deafening flash of white-hot fire.
