Chapter 6 - THE CHILD'S DRAWING
The penthouse fell completely silent, save for the sound of the rain beating against the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Gabriel stared at me, the betrayal radiating from his eyes completely transforming his face.
His uncle. The man who had mentored him, who had stood as his best man at his wedding, was a murderer.
“Vincenzo killed your mother,” Gabriel repeated, his voice dangerously hollow. “He killed Sofia. And now he’s hunting you.”
Carmela sobbed into her hands. “Gabriel, I’m so sorry. I didn't know what to do. Vincenzo threatened me. He said if I ever showed you the bracelet, he would take Leo away.”
Gabriel didn't look at his sister. He gently took the heavy gold bracelet from my trembling hands.
“Why?” Gabriel asked, looking at the diamonds. “Why did Vincenzo want your mother dead eighteen years ago? And why did he murder Sofia to get this bracelet back?”
I shook my head, desperately trying to piece together the shattered fragments of my past. “I don't know. My mother was a maid. She cleaned hotel rooms. We had absolutely nothing.”
Gabriel turned the bracelet over in his hands. He pressed his thumb against the clasp, examining the intricate craftsmanship.
Suddenly, a loud, concussive CRACK shattered the silence.
The massive glass window of the penthouse exploded inward. Shards of glass rained down like daggers.
“Get down!” Marco roared, drawing his weapon and tackling Gabriel to the floor.
I screamed, throwing my body entirely over baby Leo on the sofa, shielding his small head with my arms as the glass showered over us.
The sharp crack of a sniper rifle echoed from the high-rise building across the street. The bullet tore through the living room, embedding itself deep into the drywall just inches from where Carmela was sitting.
Carmela shrieked, crawling behind the heavy marble kitchen island.
“Lights out!” Gabriel shouted, rolling across the glass-covered floor and smashing the main lighting panel with the butt of his gun.
The penthouse plunged into absolute darkness.
Leo woke up, crying in terror. I held him tightly, pressing my face against his warm cheek. “Shh, baby, I’ve got you. I’m here.”
For thirty agonizing seconds, we waited in the dark. No more shots were fired.
“They were just sending a message,” Marco whispered, crawling toward the window to peer into the storm. “The shooter is gone.”
Gabriel stood up, brushing the glass from his suit. He rushed over to the sofa, his hands frantically checking Leo and me for injuries.
“Are you hurt?” he demanded, his voice thick with panic.
“We’re okay,” I gasped, trembling uncontrollably. “We’re okay.”
Gabriel let out a sharp breath of relief. But as he stepped back, his foot stepped on something resting on the carpet amidst the broken glass.
It wasn't a bullet casing.
Gabriel reached down and picked it up. He turned on a small flashlight from his belt, shining the beam onto the object.
It was a piece of folded, yellowed paper. It had been attached to the sniper’s bullet, fired directly into the room.
Gabriel unfolded it.
I looked over his shoulder. My stomach dropped violently into my shoes.
It was a child’s drawing. Crayon on cheap construction paper. It showed a small, crooked house with a blue door, a bright yellow sun, and two stick figures holding hands.
“I drew this,” I whispered, horrified. “I drew this when I was six years old. I hung it on the refrigerator in our old apartment.”
Gabriel flipped the drawing over.
Written in thick, black marker on the back were three words:
BRING HER HOME.
“Vincenzo didn't just raid your old apartment,” Gabriel said, his eyes locking onto mine with terrifying intensity. “He kept your childhood belongings.”
“Why?” I cried. “Why does a mafia boss care about a poor maid’s daughter?”
“Because you aren't a maid’s daughter,” a voice suddenly echoed from the shadows of the hallway.
We all spun around. Marco raised his gun.
Stepping into the faint light of the flashlight was Carlo, the restaurant owner. He was bleeding from a cut on his forehead, holding his hands up in surrender.
“Don't shoot,” Carlo pleaded, falling to his knees. “I came to tell you the truth, Gabriel. I planted the ticket to scare Elina away before Vincenzo found her.”
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Carlo looked directly at me, tears streaming down his face.
“Your mother wasn't a maid, Elina,” Carlo confessed, his voice breaking. “Your mother was Vincenzo’s older sister. You and Sofia were the true heirs to the Corsi family. Vincenzo killed your mother to steal the throne.”
