Chapter 4 - THE BOY FROM ST. JUDE’S
The word Mommy echoed like a gunshot in the silent ballroom.
Luca slowly turned his head to look at Vanessa. “Mommy?”
Vanessa scrambled backward, knocking over a crystal vase. It shattered against the marble floor. “I—I don’t know this child! He’s lying! Someone put him up to this!”
The little boy flinched at her screaming. Tears spilled down his cheeks. He reached into his small, worn backpack and pulled out a crumpled, crayon drawing.
“But Mommy,” the boy sobbed, holding up the paper. It was a drawing of a woman in a red dress holding a little boy’s hand. “You promised you’d come back for my birthday.”
Luca walked over to the boy. The towering, feared boss of the Chicago underworld dropped to one knee, ignoring his ruined trousers in the spilled water and glass.
“What’s your name, little one?” Luca asked, his voice startlingly gentle.
“Leo,” the boy sniffled.
“Where do you live, Leo?”
“At St. Jude’s,” Leo wiped his nose. “The orphanage.”
Luca closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. When he opened them, the fury in them was cold and absolute. He stood up and looked at Vanessa.
“You told me you couldn’t have children,” Luca said softly. “You sat in my office and cried, saying it was your greatest tragedy.”
Vanessa was hyperventilating now. “Luca, please! He was a mistake! I had him when I was young! If I told you, if I brought a bastard child into your world, you would never have looked at me twice!”
“You abandoned your own flesh and blood in an orphanage to secure a ring?” Luca’s voice was filled with a disgust so profound it made me shiver.
“I sent money!” she shrieked. “I made sure he was fed! I did what I had to do to survive, just like my mother did!”
“Your mother was a murderer,” Joe said firmly. He rolled his wheelchair toward Leo. The old man reached out, and to everyone’s surprise, little Leo didn’t pull away. He ran to Joe and buried his face in the old man's lap.
Joe stroked the boy’s hair. “It’s okay, Leo. Uncle Joe is here.”
Luca blinked. “You know him, Joe?”
“I’ve been visiting him at St. Jude’s for two years,” Joe confessed, his eyes sad. “Because Leo’s father wasn’t some random mistake, Anthony. Leo’s father was my nephew, David.”
Vanessa covered her face with her hands.
“David figured out who Vanessa really was,” Joe explained. “He found out she was the daughter of Maria Rivera. When he threatened to tell the police, he died in a mysterious hit-and-run.”
The room was suffocating. I couldn’t process the layers of deception. But my mind was stuck on what Joe had said earlier about my father.
“Wait,” I spoke up, my voice shaking. “Uncle Joe. You said my father didn’t know the truth until it was too late. What did you mean?”
Joe looked at me with deep sympathy. “Emma, your father was blackmailed. When Maria Rivera pawned those items, she slipped a photograph into your father’s coat. A photograph of your mother.”
I froze. “My mother?”
Joe nodded. “Your mother worked for the Rivera family before they fled to Chicago. Maria knew her. She told your father that if he didn’t rule the fire an accident, your mother would be killed.”
Tears burned my eyes. My father hadn't been corrupt. He had sacrificed his integrity, his career as an investigator, to save my mother's life.
“But that’s not all,” Joe said, reaching into the lunchbox one last time. He pulled out a heavy, men’s gold pocket watch. It was engraved with an intricate crest—a hawk gripping a snake.
“David found this in Vanessa’s apartment before he died,” Joe said, handing the watch to Luca.
Luca stared at the crest. His breath hitched.
“This is the crest of the Romano family,” Luca whispered. “The rival syndicate. The ones who ordered the hit on my family thirty-three years ago.”
“Yes,” Joe said. “Maria Rivera didn't act alone. She was hired by the Romanos to kill your mother. And Vanessa has been working for them ever since.”
Vanessa backed away toward the open French doors leading to the balcony.
May you like
“You’re all crazy,” she hissed, pulling something from her small evening bag.
It was a silver revolver.
