Chapter 4 - THE NAMES IN THE WATCH
My vision blurred as panic threatened to completely swallow me.
“My daughter,” I sobbed, clutching the edge of the kitchen counter. “They have Lily. She’s only six years old.”
Luca didn't try to offer empty comforts. He didn't tell me everything would be okay.
He operated in a world where empty promises got people killed.
Instead, he carefully unfolded the aged piece of paper from inside his father’s silver pocket watch.
He laid it flat on my cheap Formica kitchen table, right next to Lily’s torn drawing.
“Megan, look at this,” Luca commanded, his voice tight.
I wiped my eyes and leaned over the table.
The paper was twenty years old, yellowed at the edges.
It was a ledger. But not a financial one.
It was a list of four names, written in Anthony Moretti’s distinct, heavy handwriting.
Carlo Moretti
Marcus Bellini
Judge Arthur Vance
Helen Collins
Next to the first three names, Anthony had drawn a small, black ‘X’.
Next to my mother’s name, he had drawn a circle.
“What does this mean?” I whispered, staring at the ink.
Luca’s dark eyes traced the names, realizing a horrific truth.
“My uncle Carlo,” Luca said, his voice laced with venom. “And Vanessa’s father, Marcus. Twenty years ago, they tried to stage a coup against my father. They hired Judge Vance to sign fake warrants to freeze our assets.”
Luca looked at me.
“But the coup failed. My father crushed it. Or so I was told.”
“But why is my mother’s name on this list?” I asked.
Luca carefully turned the paper over.
On the back, written in the same bold ink, was a single sentence:
The innocent one saw the blood on their hands. She holds the key.
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“My mother witnessed something,” I realized. “Twenty years ago. That’s why she was hiding.”
“And that’s why my father gave her the watch,” Luca finished. “He used her existence as leverage to keep Carlo and Marcus in line. As long as she was alive and holding the proof, they couldn't make another move against him.”
Luca gritted his teeth.
“But my father died eighteen years ago. The leverage died with him. Why didn't Carlo and Marcus come for her then?”
“Because they didn't know where she was,” I said, the pieces terrifyingly falling into place. “When my mother got sick three weeks ago, she got desperate. She took the watch and went to your estate to ask for help.”
“And Vanessa intercepted her,” Luca realized, the rage radiating from him in waves. “Vanessa recognized the watch. She realized the missing witness was still alive. She told her father.”
My heart hammered against my ribs.
“They didn't kidnap her because of a wedding,” I cried. “They took her to silence her before she could tell you the truth!”
Suddenly, the floorboards in the hallway outside my apartment creaked.
Luca instantly raised his gun, stepping between me and the door.
“Get down,” he hissed.
The doorknob slowly turned.
But it was locked.
A second later, the wood shattered inward as a heavy boot kicked the door off its hinges.
Three men in dark tactical gear stepped into the living room, suppressed weapons raised.
Luca fired twice before they could even acquire a target.
Two men dropped to the floor, grasping their chests.
The third man dove behind my worn fabric sofa, unleashing a spray of bullets that tore through the drywall above my head.
“Move!” Luca yelled over the deafening gunfire.
He grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the narrow kitchen window that led to the fire escape.
I scrambled out into the freezing rain, scraping my knees against the rusted iron grating.
Luca followed immediately, laying down covering fire through the window.
We descended the fire escape as alarms began to blare in the distance.
When we reached the alleyway, Luca pulled me behind a large commercial dumpster.
His breathing was heavy, but his eyes were calculating.
“They knew I brought you here,” Luca said, checking his magazine. “Marco is the only one who knew we left the estate. He’s the one who sent them.”
“Your head of security?” I gasped.
“He works for my Uncle Carlo,” Luca said, disgust lacing his words. “They’re making their move tonight. They’re wiping the board clean. Me, your mother, your daughter.”
He looked at me, gripping my shoulders.
“Megan, I need you to think. If your mother held proof against the most powerful men in Chicago for twenty years, she wouldn't keep it in her apartment. Where would she hide it?”
I shook my head, panicked.
“I don’t know! We don’t have a safe deposit box. We don’t have anything valuable!”
“She’s a mother protecting her child,” Luca insisted gently but firmly. “She hid it somewhere in plain sight. Somewhere she knew you would find it if she died.”
I forced myself to breathe.
I pictured my mother. Her worn hands. Her quiet smile. The way she always kept her most precious things close.
Then I remembered.
“The rosary,” I whispered.
Luca frowned. “What?”
“She has a heavy silver rosary. She never prays with it, but she wears it every single day under her shirt. When she went to the hospital for tests last week, she took it off. She was terrified of losing it.”
“Where did she put it?”
“She hid it inside the lining of my winter coat,” I said, pointing up toward the apartment. “The one hanging on the back of the door!”
Luca looked up at the shattered window.
The remaining hitman was standing on the fire escape, looking down into the alley.
And draped over the hitman’s arm was my dark grey winter coat.
He had grabbed it to shield himself from the rain.
“He has it,” I gasped.
Luca raised his gun, aiming directly at the hitman’s chest.
But before he could pull the trigger, the hitman’s radio crackled loudly in the quiet alley.
“Target secured at the extraction point,” a voice echoed from the radio. “We have the old woman and the kid. Bring the Moretti boss to the abandoned railyard.”
Luca lowered his gun.
May you like
He looked at me, his eyes burning with a dark, terrifying resolve.
“We’re not shooting him,” Luca said softly. “We’re going to let him lead us exactly where they are.”
