Chapter 10 - THE SERPENT'S DEBT
The morning sun suddenly felt cold on my skin.
Luca stared at the crisp white card, his thumb tracing the embossed gold lettering. The black serpent coiled around a dagger was entirely unfamiliar to me, but the look of absolute dread washing over Luca’s face told me everything I needed to know.
“Boss?” Marco asked quietly, stepping closer to shield the card from Teresa’s view. She was still on the lawn, holding little Matteo, laughing through her tears with Margaret.
“Get them inside,” Luca ordered in a low, tight voice. “Lock down the perimeter again. No one enters or leaves without my explicit permission.”
Marco nodded and hurried down the steps.
I followed Luca back into the grand foyer. The mansion felt different now in the daylight. Less like a prison, but not quite a sanctuary yet. The shattered glass from the engagement dinner had been swept away, but the scars on the walls remained.
“Luca, what does that symbol mean?” I asked, following him into the west corridor.
He didn't answer immediately. He walked straight into the study, bypassing the scorched floorboards, and went directly to Antonio’s heavy mahogany desk. He pulled open the bottom drawer, unlocking a hidden compartment I had never noticed while cleaning.
He pulled out a thick, leather-bound ledger.
“My father kept meticulous records,” Luca said, his voice grim as he flipped through the aged, handwritten pages. “He documented every alliance, every enemy, every transaction the Moretti family ever made.”
“Is that symbol in there?” I asked, leaning over the desk.
Luca stopped on a page near the very back of the book.
There it was. Sketched in black ink by my father’s hand: A serpent coiled around a dagger.
Beneath it was a single name: The Alchemists.
“I thought they were a myth,” Luca muttered, running his hand through his dark hair. “A ghost story told by the old bosses to keep the young guys in line. They aren't a mafia family, Hannah. They don't deal in drugs or guns or territory.”
“Then what do they do?”
“Information. And death,” Luca said, looking up at me. “They are high-society fixers. If a billionaire needs a rival to quietly disappear, or a politician needs an untraceable poison to look like a heart attack… they call The Alchemists. They don't leave fingerprints. They don't leave witnesses.”
My stomach churned. “Vanessa hired them?”
“Vanessa was desperate,” Luca reasoned, pacing behind the desk. “She knew she couldn't just shoot my father; there would be an autopsy. She needed it to look completely natural. The card says she was just the buyer. That means The Alchemists supplied the poison that killed our father.”
“But Vanessa is in jail,” I pointed out. “Her father is ruined. Why are they contacting you now? The job is done.”
Luca stopped pacing. He looked down at the ledger, his eyes narrowing.
“Because Vanessa’s check must have bounced,” Luca realized.
I frowned. “What?”
“The Bellini assets were frozen by the federal government at 3:00 AM this morning,” Luca explained rapidly. “Every bank account, every offshore trust. If Vanessa promised The Alchemists a massive payout from the Moretti estate once she married me, that money is now gone.”
He picked up the white card again. “They don't care about family feuds, Hannah. They care about their payment. And since Vanessa can't pay them…”
“They’re coming to collect the debt from us,” I finished, a wave of terror washing over me.
Before Luca could respond, the heavy mahogany doors of the study creaked open.
Little Matteo stood in the doorway, his stuffed bear under one arm. He looked exhausted, his big brown eyes blinking sleepily.
“Hannah?” he asked softly. “Grandma Teresa said you know how to make pancakes.”
The sheer innocence of the question in the middle of a death threat broke my heart. I immediately masked my fear with a warm smile, walking over and kneeling in front of my new nephew.
“I do know how to make pancakes,” I said gently, tapping his nose. “With chocolate chips?”
Matteo’s eyes lit up. “Yes, please.”
I looked back at Luca. He was watching us, his jaw tight. He gave me a barely perceptible nod. Protect the family. Keep things normal.
“Go on,” Luca said softly. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
I took Matteo’s small hand and led him down the hallway toward the massive kitchen. Maria, the old cook, was already there, wiping down the counters. When she saw Matteo, she immediately burst into tears again, rushing over to pinch his cheeks and shower him in Italian blessings.
As I pulled out the flour and eggs, my cell phone buzzed in my apron pocket.
It was a text from Marco: Your mother is secure in the east wing guest suite. Medical staff is with her.
I breathed a sigh of relief. She was safe.
I cracked the eggs into a bowl, letting Matteo stir the batter with a large wooden spoon. He giggled as the flour puffed up into his face. For a brief, beautiful moment, the kitchen felt like a real home.
But as I reached for the chocolate chips in the pantry, my phone buzzed again.
I pulled it out, expecting another update from Marco.
It was a text from an Unknown Number.
My blood froze as I read the message.
Your mother looks very comfortable in the east wing, Hannah. It would be a shame if her IV drip was replaced with the same mixture we gave your father.
I dropped the phone. It shattered against the tile floor.
Matteo jumped. “Hannah? Are you okay?”
I couldn't speak. I spun around, staring at the kitchen windows, expecting to see a sniper, a hitman, a shadow. Nothing but the morning sun on the garden.
May you like
They were already inside the perimeter.
I bolted out of the kitchen, screaming Luca’s name.
