Chapter 5 - THE TRENCH COAT IN THE DOORWAY
The smoke from the revolver curled lazily toward the cracked ceiling.
I stared at the man in the doorway, my mind entirely incapable of processing the impossibility standing before me.
Lorenzo Rossi. The mafia boss who was supposed to have died thirty years ago. My father.
He looked old. The sharp jawline from the Polaroid was still there, but his face was lined with deep, harsh wrinkles, and his dark eyes carried the crushing weight of decades spent hiding in the shadows.
Luca didn't lower his gun. He kept it aimed squarely at Lorenzo’s chest.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” Luca said, his voice a low, threatening rumble that vibrated with unresolved hatred.
Lorenzo stepped carefully over the body of the Bellini gunman, holstering his revolver. He didn't look afraid of Luca’s weapon. He looked exhausted.
“I have been dead, Luca,” Lorenzo replied, his voice raspy and quiet. “For thirty years, I have been a ghost. Your mother made sure of that.”
“My mother saved your life by faking your death,” Luca spat, anger finally burning through the shock. “And in return, you abandoned her. You let her die alone!”
“I didn't abandon her!” Lorenzo shouted, a flash of the terrifying syndicate boss briefly returning to his eyes. He pointed a shaking finger at Luca. “I left because it was the only way to save you! The Commission found out about my affair with Rosa. If I hadn't disappeared, they would have slaughtered her, and you, and the baby to wipe out my bloodline!”
Lorenzo lowered his hand, his shoulders slumping heavily.
“Rosa begged me to leave,” Lorenzo whispered, tears welling in his aged eyes. “She promised me she would hide Hannah. She promised me she would raise you to be a better man than your father. And then… then Victor betrayed her.”
Luca froze, the gun wavering slightly. “Victor?”
“Your uncle didn't kill Rosa for power, Luca,” Lorenzo revealed, the devastating truth finally spilling out. “He killed her because he found out about me. He found out she was hiding the Rossi heir. He murdered your mother to cover up her treason to the family.”
I gasped, pressing my hand over my mouth.
The war wasn't about shipping ports or territory. It was about me. My mother had died to protect my secret.
Lorenzo finally looked directly at me. The hardened mafia boss looked incredibly small in that moment, his eyes filled with a desperate, heartbreaking sorrow.
“I’m so sorry, Hannah,” Lorenzo choked out, taking a hesitant step toward me. “I wanted to come back for you. But I knew if I surfaced, Victor would realize you were alive. I had to stay dead to keep you safe.”
I couldn't speak. I just stared at the man who had traded his empire and his life for my survival.
“Then why are you here now?” Luca demanded, stepping in front of me again, refusing to let Lorenzo get closer. “Why reveal yourself today?”
“Because Vanessa found out,” Lorenzo said grimly, looking down at the green wool coat on the table.
“When she sold Rosa’s things to the auction house, she kept Rosa’s journals. The ones hidden in the cedar chest. She read them, Luca. She knows Hannah is my daughter.”
“And she hired these men to kill us so she could claim she survived a hit by the Rossis,” Luca deduced, his mind working with terrifying speed. “She’s trying to start a war using my sister as the catalyst.”
“She’s not just starting a war,” Lorenzo corrected, pulling a folded newspaper from his trench coat pocket. “She’s finishing one.”
He tossed the paper onto the small kitchen table.
Luca grabbed it. It was the evening edition.
The headline was printed in bold, black letters: MAFIA DON RICHARD BELLINI ASSASSINATED IN PRISON TRANSFER.
“Vanessa didn't just target you,” Lorenzo explained coldly. “She put a hit out on her own father. With Richard dead, Vanessa is the sole inheritor of the Bellini syndicate. And with you and Hannah dead in this apartment, she becomes the most powerful boss in Chicago.”
“She orchestrated a coup,” Marco murmured from the doorway, looking out the shattered window at the burning Bellini SUV Lorenzo had blown up in the street.
“We have to move,” Luca ordered, tossing the newspaper aside. “The police will be here in two minutes. Marco, get the car.”
“We can’t go back to the estate,” Marco warned. “If Vanessa took over the Bellinis, she’ll have the mansion surrounded.”
“We’re not going to the estate,” Luca said, his eyes burning with a violent, protective fury. He looked at me, then at Lorenzo. “We are going to end this tonight.”
He grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the door.
“Where are we going?” I asked, terrified.
“To the only place Vanessa won’t expect us to be,” Luca said smoothly.
Twenty minutes later, we were standing in the shadows of the massive, glittering Bellini Casino downtown.
The casino was Vanessa’s crown jewel, the headquarters of her newly stolen empire. Heavily armed guards patrolled the entrances, but they were looking for an assault from the outside.
They weren't expecting us to use the service tunnels.
Lorenzo Rossi led us through a rusted grate in the alleyway, navigating the dark, damp subterranean access tunnels with the ease of a man who had built them thirty years ago.
“The VIP penthouse is on the top floor,” Lorenzo whispered as we reached a heavy metal door at the end of the tunnel. “There’s a private executive elevator behind this door. It goes straight up. No stops.”
Luca checked his weapon, snapping a fresh magazine into place. He looked at his father—the man who had killed his mother, who had lied to him his entire life.
“Victor is going to die tonight, Lorenzo,” Luca stated coldly. “He murdered my mother. I don't care if he’s family.”
“I’m not here to stop you, Luca,” Lorenzo said softly. “I’m here to help you kill him.”
Luca nodded once. He turned to me.
“Hannah, stay in the elevator when we reach the penthouse. Do not step out. Do not let the doors close until I tell you to.”
“I’m not staying behind,” I argued, my heart hammering in my chest. “This is my family too!”
“You are not a soldier, Hannah,” Luca commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I just found you. I am not losing you to a stray bullet.”
He pushed the heavy metal door open.
We slipped into the service corridor and piled into the plush, mirrored executive elevator. Lorenzo pressed the button for the penthouse.
The elevator shot upward, the silence in the small car suffocating.
When the doors finally chimed and slid open on the top floor, we didn't step out into a quiet hallway.
We stepped out directly into a massive, opulent ballroom.
And standing in the center of the room, holding a champagne glass, surrounded by dozens of heavily armed guards, was Vanessa Bellini.
She smiled, a cold, triumphant expression, as she looked at us in the elevator.
“You’re late, Luca,” Vanessa purred, taking a sip of champagne.
But as she lowered her glass, her eyes locked onto the man standing next to Luca.
Vanessa’s smile vanished instantly. The color drained completely from her face.
She stared at Lorenzo Rossi, absolute terror replacing her arrogant triumph.
“Hello, Vanessa,” Lorenzo said softly, stepping out of the elevator.
And from the shadows behind Vanessa’s guards, a familiar, chilling voice echoed through the ballroom.
May you like
“I told you they’d use the tunnels, Vanessa.”
Stepping into the light, holding a suppressed pistol, was Victor Moretti.
