Chapter 5 - The Broken Window
I screamed as the heavy glass of the bedroom window shattered inward.
Cold autumn air rushed into the room, bringing with it the smell of dead leaves and rain.
A man dressed entirely in black had just kicked his way through the balcony doors.
He wore a ski mask. In his right hand, he held a heavy steel crowbar.
Mr. Santoro tried to stand from the bed, raising his wooden cane to defend himself.
“Get away from him!” I yelled, grabbing the heavy crystal water pitcher from the nightstand.
The intruder didn't even look at me.
He lunged toward Mr. Santoro, shoving the frail old man back onto the mattress.
“Where is the key, old man?” the intruder growled.
His voice was muffled by the mask, but I heard the distinct, harsh accent of the Moretti family enforcers.
Victoria hadn't just tried to steal the key herself. When she failed to find it, she had texted the men blackmailing her family to come get it themselves.
I didn't think. I just reacted.
I swung the crystal pitcher as hard as I could at the back of the intruder's head.
It shattered on impact.
The man stumbled forward, roaring in pain.
He turned toward me, raising the crowbar.
Suddenly, the heavy oak bedroom door exploded inward.
Nico tore through the splintered wood frame like a freight train.
He didn't use a weapon. He didn't need one.
He crossed the room in two strides, grabbed the intruder by the front of his jacket, and slammed him against the wall so hard the plaster cracked.
The crowbar dropped to the floor with a loud clang.
Marcus and three other security guards rushed into the room seconds later.
“Take him to the basement,” Nico ordered, his breathing heavy. “Find out exactly what Victoria told him.”
The guards dragged the groaning man out of the room.
Nico immediately dropped to his knees beside his father's bed.
“Papa. Are you hurt?”
“I am fine, Nicky,” the old man gasped, clutching his chest. “Sophie... Sophie saved me.”
Nico turned to look at me.
I was trembling violently, my hands covered in water and tiny shards of crystal.
Nico stood up, took off his expensive suit jacket, and gently draped it over my shoulders.
“You are a very brave woman, Sophie,” he said softly.
“He wanted the key,” I whispered, pulling the jacket tight. “The one missing from the rosary.”
Nico looked at his father.
“Papa, if Victoria didn't take the key from the cross, who did?”
Mr. Santoro shook his head.
“I don't know, Nicky. I haven't opened that locket in ten years.”
We all stood in silence, the cold wind blowing through the shattered window.
Suddenly, Rosa appeared in the doorway.
She looked at the broken door, the shattered glass, and the old man on the bed.
Then, slowly, she reached into the pocket of her worn cooking apron.
“I didn't want to say anything,” Rosa whispered, her hands shaking.
Nico turned to her. “Rosa. What is it?”
She pulled out a small, tarnished brass key.
Nico stared at it.
“You took it?” he asked, disbelief coloring his voice.
Rosa began to cry.
“I took it yesterday morning, Nicky. When I was dusting his room.”
“Why?” Mr. Santoro asked, utterly confused.
Rosa looked at the old man, tears spilling down her wrinkled cheeks.
“Because of what I found buried in the garden behind my cottage.”
Nico stepped toward her. “What did you find, Rosa?”
Rosa swallowed hard.
“Two days ago, Victoria hired a crew to start digging up my rose bushes. She said they were measuring for the new grounds manager's shed.”
Rosa held out the brass key.
“But they hit something metal underground. A lockbox.”
My heart stopped.
“I went out in the middle of the night and dug it up myself,” Rosa continued. “It’s a heavy steel box. And Nicky... it has the exact same locking mechanism as the one on your mother's rosary.”
Nico took the key from her trembling hand.
“Where is the box, Rosa?”
“I hid it in my oven,” she said. “I brought the key up here to see if it matched. And it did.”
May you like
Nico looked at the key, then at me.
“Let’s go to the kitchen.”
