Chapter 3 - THE FACE INSIDE THE BLOODSTAINED LOCKET
“That’s impossible,” I breathed, staring at the tiny photograph.
My mother, Sarah, was twenty-two in the picture, holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket. Me. She looked exhausted, her hair messy, wearing the same faded blue waitress uniform she had worn for years.
Why was my mother’s picture hidden inside the bloodstained locket of a murdered mafia wife?
“Rosa, please tell me this is a mistake,” I pleaded, my hands trembling as I held the silver necklace.
Rosa’s eyes filled with fresh tears. “I wish I could, Avery. But Dante’s mother, Isabella, she… she trusted your mother more than anyone.”
“My mother was a hotel housekeeper on the South Side,” I said, my voice rising in panic. “She never mentioned the Valenti family. She died of cancer three years ago. We had nothing!”
“Exactly,” Rosa whispered urgently. “She had nothing because she gave it all up to protect you.”
Before Rosa could explain, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway. Dante strode back into the dining room, his face pale and furious. He had a gun tucked into the waistband of his trousers.
“Arthur Mercer’s house is empty,” Dante barked. “His cars are gone. Lillian must have warned him. They’re running.”
Dante stopped when he saw my face. He looked at my shaking hands, then at the locket.
“What is that?” he asked, stepping closer.
I couldn't speak. I just held the open locket out to him.
Dante took it. He looked at the photograph. His brow furrowed in deep confusion.
“Who is this?” he asked.
“It’s my mother,” I whispered.
Dante’s eyes snapped up to mine. The silence in the room returned, heavier and darker than before.
“Your mother?” Dante repeated, his voice dangerously low. “Why is your mother’s picture in my mother’s locket?”
“I don't know,” I cried, the tears finally spilling over. “I swear, Mr. Valenti. I just needed a job. I applied online. I didn't know—”
“You applied online?” Dante interrupted, his voice sharpening. He turned to Rosa. “Did human resources hire her?”
Rosa swallowed hard, stepping in front of me as if to shield me from his anger. “No, Dante. I did.”
Dante froze. “You?”
“When I saw the name Avery Cole on the applicant list, I bypassed HR,” Rosa confessed, her voice trembling. “I brought her here. I needed to keep her safe.”
Dante’s jaw clenched. The betrayal in his eyes was heartbreaking. “Safe from who, Rosa? What is going on?”
Rosa took a deep breath. She looked at Dante, the boy she had practically raised, and delivered a truth that shattered everything.
“Fifteen years ago, Isabella didn't die in a random hit-and-run,” Rosa said softly. “She was murdered because she was trying to leave your father. And Avery’s mother, Sarah, was the woman who helped her escape.”
The room spun.
“My father?” Dante whispered, the name tasting like ash in his mouth. “My father died in a prison riot ten years ago.”
“Your father ordered the hit from his jail cell,” Rosa corrected. “He found out Isabella was leaving and taking you with her. He hired Arthur Mercer to arrange the accident.”
Dante backed away, running both hands over his face. The untouchable mafia boss looked entirely broken. His own father had ordered his mother’s murder. And his fiancée’s father was the man who executed it.
“And my mother?” I asked, my voice cracking. “How was she involved?”
“Sarah worked at the hotel where Isabella was hiding,” Rosa explained. “They became friends. Sarah bought the train tickets for Isabella and you to escape to Seattle. But Mercer found them first.”
Rosa reached into the pocket of her apron one last time.
She pulled out a small, yellowed piece of cardboard.
A faded train ticket from Chicago to Seattle. Dated fifteen years ago.
“Sarah kept this,” Rosa said, handing it to Dante. “She gave it to me before she died. She said if Arthur Mercer ever came looking for the Valentis again, this ticket was the proof that Isabella was trying to leave.”
Dante stared at the faded ticket in his hand. The proof of his mother’s desperate attempt to save him.
“Mercer knew Sarah helped her,” Rosa continued. “He threatened to kill Sarah and you, Avery, if she ever went to the police. So Sarah went into hiding. She lived in poverty to keep you alive.”
I covered my mouth, sobbing openly now. My mother’s entire life of struggle, the late nights, the constant moving from apartment to apartment… it wasn't bad luck. It was a sacrifice. She sacrificed her life to protect mine.
Dante looked at me. The anger in his eyes was gone, replaced by a profound, agonizing empathy. We were tied together by the blood of our mothers.
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the dining room crashed open.
Three of Dante’s armed guards rushed in, dragging a terrified, bruised man between them.
It was Lillian’s driver.
“Boss,” the lead guard panted. “We caught him trying to slip out the back gate. He was making a phone call.”
Dante walked slowly toward the driver. His posture shifted, the grieving son instantly replaced by the ruthless boss of the Chicago syndicate.
“Who were you calling?” Dante asked, his voice dead calm.
The driver shook his head, terrified. “Nobody, Mr. Valenti. I swear.”
Dante drew the gun from his waistband and pressed it directly against the driver’s knee.
“I won't ask again.”
The driver sobbed. “I was calling Mr. Mercer, sir! He told me to let him know when Miss Lillian was clear!”
“Where is Arthur Mercer hiding?” Dante demanded.
The driver swallowed hard, his eyes darting to me, then back to Dante.
“He’s not hiding, sir,” the driver whispered. “He’s at the hospital. He’s been waiting there for an hour.”
Dante frowned. “Why the hospital?”
The driver’s face crumpled in fear. “Because Mr. Mercer didn't want the recipe book, Mr. Valenti. He wanted the girl.”
The driver pointed a trembling finger directly at me.
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“And he sent men to Avery’s apartment thirty minutes ago to take her little sister.”
TITLE: The Empty Coat On The Floor
