Chapter 7 - THE TRAITOR'S BARGAIN
“Silvio,” Luca breathed, the name tasting like ash in his mouth.
He snatched the document back from my hands, his eyes frantically scanning the dense legal jargon. There was no mistake. Three weeks ago, while Teresa was sitting by the window waiting for her sister, Silvio had quietly, legally hijacked the entire Moretti empire.
“I don't understand,” I said, the cold air of the vault seeping into my bones. “Vanessa is the one who changed the locks. Vanessa is the one trying to marry you. Why would the estate be in your uncle’s name?”
“Because Don Bellini isn't trying to absorb my family,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. “He’s trying to replace me.”
He shoved the papers back into the envelope. “Vanessa isn't the mastermind. She’s the distraction. Bellini knew I would never willingly hand over power. So he struck a deal with Silvio. Silvio poisons my father, Vanessa keeps me blind with a fake engagement, and while we were busy picking out wedding cakes, Silvio forged the deed using his status as my father’s brother.”
“But the key,” I pointed out. “Teresa had the bank key hidden in her rosary. How did Silvio get into this box three weeks ago to plant the forged deed?”
Luca looked at the terrified night guard standing at the end of the aisle.
“Hey,” Luca barked, marching toward the man.
The guard flinched. “Mr. Moretti, I just do the night shift! I don't know anything!”
Luca grabbed him by the collar, slamming him against the brass boxes. “Who accessed box 409 three weeks ago? Who let them in without the silver key?”
“It… it was the bank manager!” the guard stammered, his eyes wide with fear. “Mr. Evans! He overrode the lock! He said a man named Silvio Moretti had a court order declaring Antonio’s original key lost!”
Luca shoved the man aside in disgust. “Bellini bought the bank manager.”
We ran back up the marble stairs and out into the freezing Chicago rain. Luca threw open the door to the black sedan, his mind moving a million miles an hour.
“Get in,” he ordered.
“Where are we going?” I asked, buckling my seatbelt as the tires squealed against the wet asphalt.
“Silvio’s penthouse,” Luca said coldly. “If his name is on the deed, then Bellini needs him alive to legitimize the takeover. But Silvio is a coward. He won't be at the Bellini compound where it’s dangerous. He’ll be hiding in his own luxury apartment, celebrating.”
The drive to the Gold Coast district was silent and tense. Luca’s grip on the steering wheel was so tight his knuckles were bone-white. The revelation that his own uncle had murdered his father and sold out the family for power had completely shattered whatever restraint he had left.
We pulled up to a towering, ultra-luxury high-rise overlooking Lake Michigan.
Luca didn't bother parking. He left the car running on the curb, drawing his weapon as he marched into the gleaming glass lobby. The concierge took one look at Luca’s blood-splattered face and the gun in his hand, and immediately raised his hands, diving under the mahogany desk.
We stepped into the private elevator. Luca pressed the button for the penthouse.
“Stay behind me,” he told me, his eyes fixed on the changing floor numbers. “If there’s gunfire, you drop to the floor and you do not move.”
“Okay,” I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Ding.
The elevator doors slid open.
The penthouse was vast, decorated in garish modern art and cold chrome. Frank Sinatra was playing softly from a high-end sound system. The air smelled of expensive cigars and aged whiskey.
Sitting in a leather armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the city lights, was a man who looked like an older, bloated version of Luca.
Uncle Silvio.
He was holding a crystal glass of amber liquid. When he heard the elevator doors open, he didn't even flinch. He just took a slow sip.
“You’re late, Luca,” Silvio said without turning around. “I expected you an hour ago.”
Luca stepped out of the elevator, his gun aimed directly at the back of his uncle’s head.
“Turn around,” Luca ordered.
Silvio chuckled. He slowly stood up and turned to face his nephew. He looked at the gun, then at me standing terrified in the elevator.
“Brought the help, I see,” Silvio sneered. “Always did have a soft spot for the working class, didn't you, Luca? Just like your father. Weak.”
“You poisoned him,” Luca said, his voice trembling with a rage so pure it was terrifying. “You walked into his study, you poured the vial into his tea, and you watched your own brother choke to death.”
Silvio shrugged casually. “Antonio was ruining the family. He wanted to legitimize the businesses. Go straight. You can't run a mafia empire like a corner grocery store, Luca. The Bellinis offered me a partnership. Real power. All I had to do was remove the obstacle.”
“You sold us out to Bellini for a piece of paper,” Luca snarled, throwing the forged deed onto the glass coffee table.
“It’s not just a piece of paper,” Silvio smiled, picking up his cigar. “It’s total control. By tomorrow morning, the police will forcibly evict Teresa from that mansion. Vanessa will marry me, not you, uniting the families. And you? You’ll be a tragic casualty of a gang war.”
Luca’s finger tightened on the trigger. “I should blow your brains out right now.”
“Go ahead,” Silvio mocked, spreading his arms wide. “Kill me. The deed is already filed with the city. If I die, ownership defaults directly to my new partner, Don Bellini. You lose either way, boy.”
I stared at Silvio, sick to my stomach. He had planned every angle.
But then, my eyes drifted past Silvio to the massive floor-to-ceiling window.
Reflected in the glass, I saw something that made my breath catch.
There was a red laser dot resting squarely on the center of Silvio’s forehead.
“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, grabbing Luca’s arm.
Luca saw it too.
Before either of us could move, the glass window shattered inward with a deafening crack.
Silvio’s arrogant smile vanished as the sniper bullet tore through his shoulder, spinning him around like a ragdoll. He collapsed onto the white rug, screaming in agony as blood poured from the wound.
Luca immediately pulled me down behind a heavy marble kitchen island.
“Sniper from the adjacent building!” Luca shouted over the ringing in our ears.
Silvio writhed on the floor, clutching his bleeding shoulder. “Luca! Help me!”
Luca peeked over the marble counter. “Bellini didn't make you a partner, Silvio! He used you to forge the deed, and now he’s tying up loose ends! If you die, the estate goes to him!”
A second bullet shattered a ceramic vase on the counter, showering us in debris.
“The deed!” Silvio screamed, crawling across the floor toward the coffee table. “Don't let them take it!”
But as Silvio reached for the manila envelope, the penthouse doors suddenly burst open.
Standing in the doorway, holding a smoking assault rifle, was Vanessa Bellini.
She looked down at bleeding Silvio with absolute disgust.
“Pathetic,” she spat.
Vanessa walked over, snatched the forged deed off the table, and looked directly at where we were hiding behind the island.
“It’s over, Luca,” Vanessa smiled, waving the document. “My father owns everything now.”
She turned to run back to the elevator.
But as she reached the doors, I saw something fall from the pocket of her black trousers. A heavy, brass object that hit the floor with a dull clank.
The old brass key.
The one Teresa had carried for forty years.
Vanessa didn't notice. She stepped into the elevator and the doors closed.
I scrambled out from behind the counter, ignoring Luca’s shout, and grabbed the brass key off the floor.
“Hannah, get down!” Luca yelled.
I slid back behind the counter, my heart hammering. I held up the key.
“Mr. Moretti,” I gasped. “Why does she have Teresa’s key? She said it didn't open anything anymore!”
Luca stared at the brass key. His eyes suddenly widened in realization.
“Because it doesn't open a door,” Luca whispered. “It opens my father’s private safe at the mansion. The one hidden under the floorboards in the study. That’s where the original deed is. Vanessa didn't have it. She just stole it from my mother tonight!”
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If Vanessa destroyed the original, the forged one became permanent.
“We have to beat her back to the house,” Luca said, grabbing his gun.
