Chapter 6 - THE FRAME JOB
"They were going to frame me," I said, the ticket trembling in my hand.
I looked at the clock on the mantle.
11:15 PM.
"They cut the elevator cable," I realized aloud, the horrifying truth clicking into place. "They lock us in. We die in the fire. Then they find this ticket in my father's box. The police think I was the inside woman, paid off to kill you, and that I was planning to skip town tonight."
Vincent stared at the ticket.
"A perfect narrative," he said, his voice dangerously low. "The bitter daughter of a dead mechanic takes out the mob boss who allegedly wronged her father."
He paced across the rug.
"If you were the fall guy, then who is the real assassin? Frankie?"
"Frankie isn't smart enough," I said. "He bullies old men. He doesn't plan double-crosses this deep."
"You're right."
Vincent stopped. He looked at the lockbox.
"Dump it out. All of it."
I tipped the metal box upside down.
The ledgers fell onto the table.
Along with them, a small, velvet pouch slid out.
I reached for it. It was heavy.
I untied the drawstrings and poured the contents into my palm.
A gold bracelet.
It was a delicate chain with a single charm—a tiny golden bird.
My breath hitched.
"That's my mother's," I whispered.
My mother had died when I was ten. I vividly remembered her wearing this bracelet every single day. When she died, it disappeared. My father always said it was lost at the hospital.
"Why was this in the box with the mob ledgers?" I asked, tears springing to my eyes.
Vincent gently took the bracelet from my hand.
He examined the tiny bird charm.
Then, he turned it over.
On the back, engraved in microscopic lettering, were numbers.
"It's not just a charm," Vincent said. "It's an offshore account routing number."
Answer one: My father didn't just hide the books. He had the keys to the money.
Open two: If he had the money, why were we living in poverty? And why was he paying Frankie Russo?
"He was paying Frankie to keep you and Leo off their radar," Vincent deduced, reading my mind. "He knew what he had. He knew they would come for it eventually."
Suddenly, Vincent's phone buzzed.
He looked at the caller ID.
It was an unknown number.
He put it on speaker.
"Hello, Vincenzo."
The voice was like grinding gravel. Old. Raspy.
Vincent’s jaw locked. "Hello, Father."
"I see you didn't burn in the basement," Don Carlo said. There was no warmth in his voice. Only irritation. "Pity. It would have been poetic. The son dies in the dark, just like he left his old man."
"You killed Dominic," Vincent said coldly.
"Dominic got greedy. He thought he could find my money before I got out. But you... you found the mechanic's daughter."
My stomach plummeted.
"I have what you want, old man," Vincent bluffed.
"No, you don't," Carlo laughed softly. "You have paper. The girl has the numbers. But I... I have the collateral."
There was a muffled sound over the line.
Then, a voice that made my heart stop entirely.
"Aunt Grace?"
It was Leo.
I spun around and looked at the stairs.
I dropped the phone and ran up the steps, taking them two at a time.
I threw open the door to the second bedroom.
The window was shattered. The curtains were blowing in the freezing wind.
May you like
The bed was empty.
Leo was gone.
