Chapter 7 - THE SECRET IN THE ROSARY BOX
My knees buckled.
If Matteo hadn’t caught my arm, I would have collapsed onto the stone floor of the vault.
I stared at the photograph of my mother. She looked so fragile, her pale face resting against the white hospital pillow, the feeding tube taped to her cheek. The timestamp in the corner of the Polaroid showed it had been taken less than two hours ago.
Say goodbye, maid.
“They’re at the hospital,” I choked out, a raw, animal panic rising in my throat. “Dominic sent someone to the hospital! They’re going to kill her, Mr. Russo! They’re going to kill my mom!”
Matteo snatched the photo from my trembling hands. His jaw tightened, the muscles ticking dangerously under his skin.
“Breathe, Anna,” he ordered, his voice an anchor in the storm of my panic. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
“Luca,” Matteo barked into the receiver. “I need a four-man team at Mercy General Hospital right now. Secure Margaret Mitchell’s room. Floor four, room 412. Nobody goes in or out. If anyone wearing an Arthur syndicate pin gets within fifty feet of that door, break their legs. I’m on my way.”
He hung up and looked at me. “She’s safe. My men are three minutes away.”
“Three minutes is enough time to inject an air bubble into an IV,” Evelyn whispered, her voice laced with the grim reality of the world she had married into.
Matteo’s eyes hardened. “They won’t touch her, Mom. Dominic is trying to distract us. He knows we figured out Scarlett has the digital keys.”
“We have to go to the hospital!” I begged, grabbing his sleeve. “Please!”
“We will,” Matteo said calmly. “But if we don’t get what’s inside Scarlett’s rosary box, Arthur sends the file to the FBI, and both your mother and mine spend the rest of their lives in federal prison. We have to divide and conquer.”
He turned to his mother. “Mom, take the SUV and the driver. Go straight to the hospital. Stay with Luca and the men. Don’t leave Anna’s mother’s side.”
Evelyn nodded, her frail shoulders squaring with a renewed, fierce matriarchal strength. She pulled the heavy brown coat tighter around herself. “They won’t get past me, Matteo.”
“I know they won’t,” he said, kissing her cheek. He turned to me. “You and I are going to the mansion. You know the layout of Scarlett’s suite. You find the box; I handle whoever is standing in our way.”
Ten minutes later, Matteo and I were standing at the edge of the sprawling Russo estate.
The rain was coming down in sheets, hiding us in the shadows of the massive oak trees. The mansion was brightly lit, but it wasn’t peaceful. Four black SUVs were parked on the circular driveway. Armed men in dark coats were pacing the front portico.
Arthur’s men had already taken over the property.
“They’re waiting for you,” I whispered, shivering from the cold rain soaking through my thin blouse.
Matteo took off his tailored suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders. It was heavy, radiating his heat, and smelled of expensive cologne and gunpowder.
“They’re waiting for a frontal assault,” Matteo corrected quietly. “They think I’ll come through the main gates with an army. They don’t know I spent my childhood sneaking out of this house.”
He led me around the perimeter of the estate to the greenhouse.
Behind a row of overgrown hydrangeas was a small, rusted iron grate covering an old coal chute. Matteo pulled it open with a quiet grunt of effort.
“Ladies first,” he said.
I slid down the metal chute, landing softly on the dusty floor of the basement wine cellar. Matteo followed silently behind me.
The house was eerily quiet. We crept up the servant stairs, avoiding the main hallways. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure Arthur’s men could hear it.
We reached the third floor. Scarlett’s suite was at the end of the hall.
The door was slightly ajar. Light spilled out onto the carpet.
Matteo pressed his back against the wall, motioning for me to stay put. He drew his pistol and silently slid into the room.
A second later, I heard a dull thud, followed by the sound of a heavy body hitting the floor.
“Clear,” Matteo whispered.
I ran into the room. One of Arthur’s guards was unconscious on the expensive white rug, Matteo standing over him.
The suite was a disaster zone. Scarlett had clearly packed in a panic. Designer clothes were thrown everywhere, suitcases left open on the bed.
“The nightstand,” I said, rushing across the room.
I threw open the drawers, tossing aside expensive cosmetics and jewelry boxes.
Nothing.
I dropped to my knees, checking under the bed. Nothing.
“It’s not here,” I panicked, tears of frustration stinging my eyes. “She must have taken it!”
“Think, Anna,” Matteo said, keeping his gun trained on the hallway. “She’s vain. She’s arrogant. She hides things in plain sight because she thinks nobody is smart enough to look. Where else?”
I scanned the room.
My eyes landed on a massive, custom-built walk-in closet.
I ran inside. At the very back, behind a row of floor-length fur coats, was a small, locked display case where Scarlett kept her most expensive handbags.
I grabbed a heavy crystal perfume bottle from the vanity and smashed the glass.
I reached inside, ignoring the sharp edges biting into my skin, and pulled out a heavy, ornate wooden box carved with crosses and saints.
The rosary box.
I forced the brass latch open.
There were no beads inside.
Instead, resting on a bed of red velvet, was a small, black USB memory stick.
And right beneath it, a folded piece of paper.
“I got it!” I whispered, running back to Matteo.
I handed him the memory stick. He pocketed it instantly. “This is the routing data. We have them.”
“Wait,” I said, unfolding the piece of paper I had pulled from the box.
It was a printed email.
I read the first line, and my blood ran ice cold.
Arthur, the dosage is correct. If you put it in Evelyn’s tea tonight, the stroke will look entirely natural. Make sure she signs the deed first.
I looked up at Matteo in sheer horror.
“They weren’t just going to put your mother in a home,” I whispered, handing him the paper. “They’re going to kill her tonight.”
Suddenly, Matteo’s phone vibrated violently in his pocket.
He pulled it out, his face turning pale.
“Luca,” Matteo answered.
I heard the bodyguard’s voice crackle through the speaker, breathless and panicked.
“Boss… they hit us. There were too many. They breached the hospital room.”
May you like
Matteo’s grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned white. “Where is my mother?”
“They took her, Boss,” Luca choked out. “Dominic took Evelyn. And he took the maid’s mother, too.”
