Chapter 4 - THE BROTHER'S VOW
“Your sister?”
Luca’s voice cracked. He took a staggering step back, hitting the edge of the mahogany desk.
I gasped, looking back and forth between Roberto and the photograph. The resemblance was suddenly so obvious. The same dark, intense eyes. The same proud jawline.
Isabella tilted her head. “You’re my uncle?”
Roberto dropped to one knee. He reached out, his hand shaking, and gently touched Isabella’s cheek.
“Yes, piccola mia,” Roberto whispered in Italian. “I am your Uncle Roberto.”
Isabella didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into his touch. “Mommy told me about you. She said you lived across the ocean where the lemons grow.”
Roberto let out a wet laugh, tears spilling over his cheeks. “Naples. Yes. She remembered.”
Luca ran a hand through his dark hair. The fierce mafia boss looked entirely shattered.
“Elena told me she was an only child,” Luca said, his voice thick with confusion. “She said her parents died in a fire and she had no family left.”
Roberto stood up slowly.
“She lied to protect me, Luca.”
“Protect you from what?”
Roberto pointed to the burned ledger on the desk.
“From the Bellinis,” Roberto said darkly. “Twenty years ago, Vincent Bellini tried to wipe out our entire bloodline in Naples to seize the shipping ports. He murdered our parents. Elena and I escaped, but we had to separate to survive.”
I gripped the edge of my apron. This was so much bigger than a cruel stepmother. This was a generational war.
“Elena fled to Chicago,” Roberto continued. “She changed her name. She built a life. And then, she met you.”
Luca looked down at his hands, where his mafia tattoos served as a constant reminder of his own dark world.
“She knew I was dangerous,” Luca murmured.
“She didn't care about your business,” Roberto said gently. “She loved you, Luca. Truly. But she knew that aligning herself with the powerful Moretti family would eventually draw Vincent Bellini’s attention.”
Roberto walked over to the desk and tapped the burned ledger.
“And she was right. Vincent discovered who she was. Instead of killing her immediately, he decided to play the long game. He infiltrated your organization. He bled your accounts dry. And he ordered his daughter, Vanessa, to get close to you.”
“Vanessa,” Luca spat the name like poison.
“Elena found the proof,” Roberto said. “She called me three days before she died. She told me she had hidden the ledger in your father's sealed room. She begged me to come to America and protect Isabella if anything happened to her.”
“Why didn't you come to me?” Luca demanded, stepping forward, his chest heaving. “Why let me believe she died in a random accident for two years? I could have protected her!”
“Because she didn't know who in your crew was working for Bellini!” Roberto yelled back. “If I had walked in here declaring who I was, they would have killed Isabella!”
The words hung in the air, heavy and terrifying.
I looked at Isabella. The little girl was watching them with wide, frightened eyes. I instinctively stepped behind her and pulled her gently against my legs, wrapping my arms around her shoulders.
She held onto my hands tightly.
Luca saw this. The anger in his eyes faded, replaced by profound grief.
“So Vanessa wasn't the mastermind,” Luca realized aloud. “She’s just a pawn. Vincent Bellini ordered the hit on my wife.”
“Yes,” Roberto said. “And tonight, at this engagement dinner, he plans to force you into signing over the final shipping contracts. Once you sign them, you and Isabella are no longer useful to him.”
My blood ran cold.
They were going to kill Luca and Isabella tonight.
“He won't get the chance,” Luca growled. He reached inside his jacket, and I saw the dark metal of a handgun holstered against his ribs.
“Wait, Daddy,” Isabella suddenly said.
Luca stopped. “What is it, Bella?”
Isabella reached into the pocket of her pale-blue dress again.
“When Mommy left that night in the rain,” Isabella said softly, “I was watching from my bedroom window.”
Luca went perfectly still. “You were awake?”
Isabella nodded. “Mommy kissed me. She said she had to go meet someone to make the bad men stop. I couldn't sleep. So I drew a picture of what I saw outside.”
She pulled out a piece of folded, crumpled construction paper.
She handed it to her father.
Luca unfolded it with trembling hands. I leaned over to look.
It was a child’s crayon drawing. It showed a black car parked in the driveway in the rain. Beside the car stood a stick figure wearing a very specific, bright yellow coat with a red collar.
The stick figure was holding a wrench near the car's tire.
“A man was fixing Mommy’s car before she got in,” Isabella explained innocently.
Roberto frowned. “Her brake lines were cut. That man wasn't fixing the car, Isabella. He was sabotaging it.”
Luca stared at the yellow coat with the red collar in the drawing.
His face drained of blood.
“Luca?” Roberto asked. “Do you recognize that coat?”
Luca looked up, his eyes wide with a horrific realization.
“I don't,” Luca whispered.
He turned the drawing toward me.
“But I think Emily does.”
I stared at the crayon drawing. My heart slammed against my ribs.
May you like
I knew exactly who owned that coat. Because I hung it in the mansion’s coatroom every single morning.
“Sir,” I choked out. “That coat belongs to your head of security.”
