Chapter 3 - THE BLOOD ON THE BLUE STONE
Vincent fell to his knees.
The ruthless mafia boss of Philadelphia picked up the bloody silver necklace, his hands shaking so violently he could barely hold it. He pressed the blue stone to his forehead and let out a sob that sounded like it tore through his chest.
"They took her," Vincent choked out. "They took my wife."
I stood in the doorway, paralyzed. My mind was spinning, trying to reconcile the kind, elderly woman who baked me bread with the wife of a billionaire crime lord.
Then, a sickening realization hit me.
"My mother," I whispered.
Anthony turned to me, his face pale. "What?"
"My mother!" I screamed, backing out of the apartment. "Frank knows she's the one who raised me. If he came here for Elena, he’ll go to the hospital for my mother!"
I sprinted toward the stairs. Anthony and Vincent were right behind me. We scrambled into the SUV, and Anthony floored the accelerator, running three red lights to get to Mercy General Hospital.
"Answer One, Open Two," my grandmother—or whoever she really was—used to say. Every lie uncovered breeds two more.
If Margaret Bennett wasn't my biological mother, why had she sacrificed everything to raise me? Why did she live in poverty when she could have asked the Carusos for help?
We burst through the hospital’s automatic doors and ran to the oncology wing.
Room 412.
The door was wide open.
The bed was empty. The IV pole was knocked over, a pool of clear fluid spreading across the linoleum.
"No, no, no," I cried, running into the room. I checked the bathroom. Empty.
"Claire," Anthony called out from the bedside table.
He was holding a small, plastic evidence bag left on the pillow. Inside was my mother’s hospital ID bracelet. But it was wrapped tightly around a small, gold matchbook.
I recognized the logo immediately.
The Onyx Club.
"Luciano’s place," Vincent said, his voice dropping into a lethal, terrifying calm. "It’s a declaration of war."
"Why did Frank leave it?" I asked, wiping my tears.
"Because Frank doesn't work for me anymore," Vincent replied, staring at the matchbook. "He went back to the man who bought him twenty-three years ago."
Suddenly, the hospital room phone rang.
It was jarring, piercing the sterile silence.
Vincent walked over and picked up the receiver. He put it on speaker.
"Vinnie," a raspy, arrogant voice echoed through the room. "It’s been a long time."
"Luciano," Vincent said. "If you touch a hair on either of those women, I will burn your empire to ash."
Luciano laughed. "You don't have the leverage anymore, Vinnie. Your loyal dog Frank brought me some very interesting prizes tonight. Your wife. And the traitor who stole your granddaughter."
"What do you want?"
"I want the shipping ports," Luciano said plainly. "Sign the deeds over to my family. You have one hour to bring the paperwork to Pier 17. Come alone."
"And if I don't?"
"Then I put a bullet in your wife's head, and drop the nurse in the river."
The line went dead.
Vincent hung up the phone. He turned to Anthony. "Call the men. Every single one of them. We are going to war."
"Wait!" I yelled, stepping between them. "If you show up with an army, they’ll kill my mother and Mrs. Russo instantly!"
Vincent looked at me, his expression hardening. "This is how our world works, Claire. We don't negotiate."
"You just found out I exist!" I cried, tears spilling hot over my cheeks. "And you're going to let the woman who kept me alive die because of your pride?"
Vincent stopped. He looked at my eyes again.
"He's right, Dad," Anthony said quietly. "There’s something else you need to know. Something I hid from you."
Anthony reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He handed it to his father.
Vincent opened it. "What is this?"
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"It’s a bank statement," Anthony whispered. "I found out Elena was alive five years ago. I found out where she was hiding. And I’ve been paying for Margaret’s medical bills in secret."
TITLE: THE CONFESSION IN THE EMPTY ROOM
