Chapter 5 - THE GOLD WATCH
The basement went completely still.
The only sound was the hum of the dehumidifier in the corner.
“Marco,” Dante said. His voice was terrifyingly calm. “Put the gun down.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Russo,” Marco said. He didn’t look sorry. He looked nervous, his finger trembling slightly on the trigger. “Carlo Marchetti made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. He promised me a seat at the table once you were out of the picture.”
I gripped the blue wool coat, my heart hammering in my throat.
Marco had been Dante’s shadow for ten years. If he was compromised, it meant nobody in the house was safe.
“You think Carlo honors his deals?” Dante asked, slowly taking a step sideways, placing himself slightly in front of me. “He’ll put a bullet in your head the second he has what he wants.”
“He wants the key, Dante,” Marco said. “And the numbers. Hand them over.”
“Or what?” Dante asked.
“Or I shoot the maid,” Marco said, shifting the barrel toward me.
Dante didn’t hesitate. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver key.
He tossed it onto the concrete floor between them. It landed with a sharp clink.
“Now the numbers,” Marco demanded, keeping the gun raised as he crouched to pick up the key.
“I’ll write them down,” Dante said.
He reached into his jacket, as if going for a pen.
Instead, Dante moved faster than my eyes could follow.
He grabbed the heavy brass hanger from the blue coat and hurled it directly at Marco’s face.
The brass caught Marco across the bridge of his nose. Marco shouted in pain, stumbling backward. The gun went off, the bullet shattering a glass light fixture above us.
Sparks rained down in the darkness.
Dante lunged.
He tackled Marco into the cedar shelves, sending boxes of winter boots crashing to the floor. Marco tried to raise the gun again, but Dante grabbed his wrist, twisting it violently until Marco dropped the weapon.
Dante delivered a punishing right hook to Marco’s jaw. Marco slumped to the floor, unconscious.
I stood frozen, breathing heavily.
Dante stood up, straightening his cuffs as if he hadn’t just engaged in a brutal fight. He didn’t even look at Marco.
He turned to me. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” I whispered.
Dante walked over and picked up Marco’s dropped gun. He tucked it into his waistband, then retrieved the silver key from the floor.
As he did, he noticed something shining near Marco’s unconscious body.
It had fallen out of Marco’s pocket during the struggle.
Dante picked it up.
It was a gold pocket watch.
He turned it over in his palm. The blood drained from Dante’s face.
He handed it to me. “Look at the engraving.”
My hands shook as I took the heavy gold watch.
Etched into the back of the casing were three initials.
E.C.R.
Eleanor Collins Russo.
I stared at the initials. “My mother’s maiden name was Eleanor Collins. Why does it have an ‘R’?”
Dante looked me dead in the eyes.
“Because your mother didn’t just help my mother, Emma. Your mother married my uncle, Arthur Russo. They changed their last name to Collins to hide from the Marchettis.”
The basement spun.
“Which means,” Dante said quietly, “you aren’t just a maid, Emma. You’re a Russo. You’re my cousin.”
Wait.
Dante stopped. He looked at me, realizing his own words.
“No,” Dante said immediately, shaking his head. “Arthur Russo was my father’s adopted brother. There’s no blood relation. Thank God.”
He let out a sharp breath, staring at me with an intensity that made my stomach flutter despite the chaos.
“But it means,” Dante continued, his voice hardening, “that Carlo Marchetti has been holding your mother’s medical bills over your head to keep a true Russo heir subjugated in her own family’s house.”
Rage, hot and blinding, flared in my chest.
Sofia hadn’t just been cruel. She had been keeping me as a twisted trophy.
Suddenly, Marco’s radio crackled on his belt.
May you like
Sofia’s voice came through the static.
“Marco. Did you get the key? Because my father just grabbed the little girl from the kitchen.”
