Chapter 4 - THE BOY IN THE HALLWAY
The word hung in the air like smoke.
Orphanage.
Luca stared at the little boy. The mafia boss, feared across Chicago, suddenly looked entirely dismantled.
“Julian,” Luca said, his voice impossibly gentle. He knelt down so he was eye-level with the nine-year-old. “Come here, buddy.”
Julian hesitated. He looked at Vanessa.
Vanessa’s face was twisted in a mask of sheer panic. “Don’t you dare go near him, you little rat—”
“Frank,” Luca said without looking away from the boy.
Frank moved instantly. He stepped between Vanessa and Julian, his broad shoulders completely blocking her from the child’s view.
“It’s okay, Julian,” Frank said warmly. “Nobody is sending you anywhere.”
Julian shuffled forward. His bare feet made no sound on the old hardwood floor. He stopped in front of Luca and held out the thick brown manila envelope.
Luca took it carefully. “Did Mrs. Bellini give this to you tonight?”
Julian nodded. “Before the dinner. She took it from the man in the gray suit. They were arguing. The man said he wanted his grandson back. The lady said he wouldn’t get anything until the wedding was over.”
My breath caught in my throat.
The man in the gray suit. Marco Rossi.
Julian was Marco Rossi’s grandson. The boy Antonio Moretti had been paying to keep alive thirteen years ago.
But why was Julian living in the Moretti mansion as the cook’s nephew?
Luca opened the envelope.
He pulled out a stack of yellowed, legal-sized papers.
As his eyes scanned the first page, the muscles in his jaw locked. The silence in the room stretched until it felt like a rubber band about to snap.
“Vanessa,” Luca finally said, looking at the papers. “Do you know what this is?”
“Luca, I can explain—”
“It’s the original deed to the Southside Shipping Port,” Luca said, his voice rising, bouncing off the basement walls. “The port my father fought for his entire life. The port that mysteriously went bankrupt and was bought for pennies by your father, Don Bellini, three months after my father died.”
Vanessa crossed her arms, trying to look defiant, but she was trembling. “Business is business, Luca. My father saw an opportunity.”
“It wasn’t an opportunity,” Frank growled from the corner. “It was a theft.”
Frank pointed a calloused finger at the documents.
“Antonio didn’t lose that port. He transferred it to a blind trust to protect it from the Bellinis. The only way to access the trust was with this original deed.” Frank looked at Vanessa with absolute disgust. “Your family couldn’t find it. Because Antonio hid it in the one place they’d never look.”
“With Marco Rossi,” Luca realized, staring at the paperwork.
“Yes,” Frank said. “Marco didn’t just take the fall to protect his grandson. He took the deed into hiding. He kept it safe for thirteen years. Until Vanessa found him.”
I looked at the terrified little boy standing next to Luca.
“That’s why Julian is here,” I said, the pieces finally clicking together in my mind. “Mrs. Bellini brought Julian into the house a month ago. She told the staff he was the cook’s nephew who needed a place to stay.”
I turned to Vanessa. My hands were balled into fists.
“You didn’t bring him here out of charity. You kidnapped him. You used him as collateral to force Marco Rossi to hand over the deed.”
Vanessa sneered at me. “Watch your mouth, maid. You know nothing about how this world works.”
“I know you’re a monster,” I said.
Vanessa raised her hand to slap me.
She didn’t even make it halfway.
Luca was on his feet in a microsecond. He caught Vanessa’s wrist mid-air. His grip was so tight her knuckles turned white.
“Don’t you ever raise a hand to my staff,” Luca whispered, his face inches from hers. “Especially the ones who tell the truth.”
He shoved her hand away.
Vanessa stumbled back, clutching her wrist. “You’re choosing them over me? I am your fiancée! We are merging the families! If you break this engagement, my father will wage a war that will burn this city to the ground!”
“Let him burn it,” Luca said coldly.
He looked down at the deed. Then he frowned.
He flipped to the second page. Then the third.
His expression shifted from anger to profound confusion.
“Frank,” Luca said, staring at the paper.
“What is it, kid?”
“This deed… it doesn’t transfer the port back to the Moretti family.”
Frank walked over. He put on his reading glasses from the open lunchbox and looked over Luca’s shoulder.
“What do you mean?” Frank asked.
“Look at the signature line,” Luca said, pointing. “My father didn’t leave the port to me. He didn’t leave it to the business.”
Frank squinted at the faded ink.
When he read the name, the color completely drained from his face.
He took a staggering step backward, knocking into the heavy oak desk.
“No,” Frank whispered, his voice cracking. “No, Antonio. Why would you do that?”
Luca looked up at the old handyman, his eyes wide.
“Frank,” Luca said softly. “Why did my father leave a hundred-million-dollar shipping port… in your name?”
Before Frank could answer, the heavy basement door at the top of the stairs slammed shut.
The sound echoed like a gunshot.
The lock clicked from the outside.
May you like
Vanessa backed toward the stairs, a triumphant, wicked smile spreading across her face. She pulled a small remote from the pocket of her red gown.
“Because,” Vanessa laughed, her eyes flashing with pure malice. “Your father knew Frank was the only man he could trust. Which is why Frank is the one who has to die tonight.”
