Chapter 3 - THE MEN IN THE KITCHEN
The leader of the armed men smiled.
He was in his late forties, wearing a tailored charcoal suit that cost more than Nora’s annual salary.
Marcus Rossi.
“Put the paper down, Adrian,” Marcus said gently.
Adrian didn't raise his hands. He stood between the armed men and his mother's wheelchair.
“How did you get past my gate?” Adrian asked.
Marcus chuckled.
“Peter is the estate administrator. He updates the security codes every Thursday. Today is Thursday.”
Peter wiped sweat from his forehead.
“I had to, Adrian. The Rossis threatened my family. They said if I didn't funnel the money and give them access to the house, they would kill my daughters.”
Adrian’s eyes were dead black.
“So you sold my mother instead.”
“I didn't push her!” Peter cried. “Evelyn did! Teresa caught Evelyn transferring the funds on your father's old laptop. Evelyn pushed her down the stairs to keep her quiet!”
Evelyn sobbed from the floor.
“Marcus promised me protection! He promised me a new life!”
Marcus looked down at Evelyn with pure disgust.
“I promised you a payout if the old woman died. You couldn't even get that right. You left her paralyzed but breathing. A loose end.”
Marcus aimed the pistol at Teresa.
“I'm just here to clean up the mess.”
Nora didn't think.
She didn't calculate the risk.
She just moved.
She stepped directly in front of Teresa's wheelchair, placing her own body between the mafia boss and the elderly woman.
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
“Move, little girl.”
“No,” Nora said.
Her voice shook, but her feet didn't.
Adrian stared at the back of the young maid’s uniform. He had commanded hundreds of hardened men who wouldn't have shown half her courage.
“Nora,” Adrian said softly. “Step aside.”
“I won't let him hurt her,” Nora whispered.
Marcus sighed.
“Suit yourself.”
He tightened his finger on the trigger.
But Marcus Rossi made one fatal miscalculation.
He assumed Adrian Falcone needed a weapon to be dangerous.
Adrian kicked the heavy, stainless-steel prep table.
The massive table slid across the wet tile floor, crashing directly into Marcus’s knees.
The gun fired wildly into the ceiling.
Plaster rained down.
Adrian vaulted over the table.
He drove his elbow into Marcus’s jaw. The bone cracked with a sickening snap.
The two other Rossi men raised their weapons.
Suddenly, the kitchen windows shattered inward.
Adrian’s security team, alerted by the gunshot, poured into the room from the terrace.
In five seconds, the Rossi men were disarmed and forced to their knees.
Marcus lay bleeding on the floor, groaning in agony.
Adrian stood over him, wiping a drop of blood from his own cheek.
He looked at his security chief.
“Take them to the warehouse. Do not let them sleep.”
“Yes, Boss.”
The guards dragged the Rossi men out.
Adrian turned back to the kitchen.
Peter was on his knees, begging.
Evelyn was backed into a corner, trembling.
Nora was still standing in front of Teresa, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
Teresa’s left hand reached out and gently gripped Nora’s apron.
Adrian walked over to the young maid.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“No, sir.”
“You stepped in front of a loaded gun.”
Nora looked down.
“She’s my patient, sir. It's my job.”
“Your job is changing sheets,” Adrian said. “What you just did is family.”
He turned to Peter and Evelyn.
“Lock them in the wine cellar,” Adrian ordered his remaining men. “We deal with them tonight.”
As the guards hauled the screaming traitors away, Adrian knelt beside his mother.
“Mom.”
One tap.
“Are you okay?”
One tap.
Adrian let out a long, heavy breath.
“I'm going to destroy the Rossi family for this. Every single one of them.”
But Teresa tapped twice.
No.
Adrian frowned.
“Mom, they tried to kill you.”
Teresa reached into her cardigan pocket again.
This time, she didn't pull out a bank receipt.
She pulled out a faded photograph.
She handed it to Adrian.
Adrian looked at the picture.
It was a photo of a young man holding a baby.
The young man was Adrian’s older brother, Julian. Julian had died in a car bombing fifteen years ago, a casualty of the mafia wars.
But that wasn't what made Adrian’s blood run cold.
He looked at the baby in Julian’s arms.
Then he flipped the photo over.
Written on the back, in his mother’s handwriting, were four words.
The baby survived. Caleb.
May you like
Adrian slowly turned and looked at Nora.
TITLE: THE BOY NAMED CALEB
