Chapter 6 - THE DIRT ON THE FLOOR
“Hello, Emma. I see you brought the ledger.”
My mother’s voice was exactly as I remembered it, yet utterly devoid of the warmth I had spent years missing.
She stood beside the freshly dug hole, leaning on the shovel like it was a walking cane.
I stayed on my knees beside my father’s wheelchair, gripping his cold hand.
“You’re going to bury him?” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Your own husband?”
“He’s a vegetable, Emma,” she said flatly. “He has been for ten years. I’m doing him a favor. And once he’s gone, no one can connect me to the Bellini fraud.”
She held out her hand.
“Give me the ledger, Luca.”
Luca stepped forward, blocking her line of sight to me and my dad.
“You’re out of your mind, Diane,” Luca said. “You think I’m going to hand over the proof of my family’s innocence to you?”
Diane laughed—a harsh, scraping sound.
“Your family’s innocence? Oh, Luca. You really are blind.”
She pointed a dirty finger at the leather book in his hands.
“That ledger doesn’t just prove the Bellinis stole from the union. It proves your mother helped them do it.”
The greenhouse went dead silent.
Luca froze. “What?”
“Lucia Moretti wasn’t a saint,” Diane sneered. “She hated your father’s mafia lifestyle. She wanted out. So she made a deal with the Bellinis. She helped them siphon money, and in return, they promised to help her disappear.”
I looked at Luca. The color had drained from his face.
“You’re lying,” Luca said, his voice barely a whisper.
“Why do you think Thomas kept the ledger hidden in her cedar chest?” Diane countered. “Because he loved her. Thomas was obsessed with Lucia. He hid the evidence to protect her.”
My father let out a strained, agonizing groan from his wheelchair.
He was shaking his head frantically.
Tears poured down his face. He hit his paralyzed hand against the armrest.
No.
He couldn’t speak, but his eyes were screaming.
“He’s trying to tell you it’s a lie,” I said, standing up. I glared at my mother. “You’re just trying to manipulate him to get the book.”
Diane’s eyes narrowed.
She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small, silver revolver.
She aimed it directly at my father’s chest.
“I don’t have time for a family reunion,” Diane snapped. “Toss the book, Luca. Or I finish the job the fire started.”
David Mercer, who had been hiding near the doorway, suddenly bolted into the darkness.
“Coward,” Diane muttered, not taking her eyes off Luca. “The ledger. Now.”
Luca slowly raised his hands.
He looked at me. A silent promise.
“Alright,” Luca said calmly. “You win.”
He tossed the heavy leather book across the dirt floor.
It landed near the edge of the open grave.
Diane smiled triumphantly. She lowered the gun slightly and stepped forward to pick it up.
As she bent down, Luca moved.
He didn’t go for his gun. He kicked the heavy iron lantern sitting on the ground.
The lantern shattered against the side of the shovel, plunging the greenhouse into near darkness and spraying hot oil across Diane’s boots.
She screamed, dropping the gun and jumping back.
Luca lunged.
He pinned her to the ground in seconds, his knee digging into her shoulder.
“Emma! The gun!” Luca yelled.
I scrambled through the dirt, my fingers brushing against the cold metal of the revolver. I snatched it up and pointed it at the ground, my hands shaking violently.
Luca hauled my mother to her feet, twisting her arm behind her back.
“You’re going to federal prison for the rest of your life,” Luca growled.
“Am I?” Diane laughed, even as she winced in pain.
She looked past Luca.
She looked at the broken glass doors of the greenhouse.
“I told you I was going to sell it to the highest bidder,” she smiled.
Headlights suddenly flooded the greenhouse, blinding us.
Three black SUVs had pulled up onto the grass.
The doors opened, and a dozen armed men stepped out.
Leading them was Vanessa Bellini.
She wasn’t wearing her red engagement dress anymore. She was wearing a black trench coat, holding an umbrella against the rain.
Vanessa stepped over the broken glass, flanked by her father’s enforcers.
She looked at my mother, then at Luca, and finally at me holding the gun.
“Thank you, Diane,” Vanessa smiled. “I knew you’d flush them out.”
May you like
Vanessa held out her hand.
“Now, Emma. Be a good little maid. Put the gun down, and hand me the ledger.”
