Chapter 4 - THE POCKET WATCH
The silence in the room became suffocating.
I stared at the gold pocket watch dangling from Vincenzo’s thick fingers. My breath caught in my throat. It was my grandfather’s watch. The one my dad swore he had lost at the construction site, not pawned.
Why did the head of mafia security have my family’s watch?
Vincenzo didn’t look at Isabella. He looked directly at Dante.
“We have a problem at the perimeter, Boss,” Vincenzo said, his voice completely steady.
Dante didn’t move. He stared at Vincenzo, then at the child’s drawing in my hand, and finally at the watch.
“The perimeter is fine, Vince,” Dante said softly. “Come inside. Close the door behind you.”
Vincenzo hesitated. His eyes flicked to Isabella. It was a micro-expression, barely a second long, but Dante caught it.
“Now,” Dante commanded.
Vincenzo stepped inside. The door clicked shut.
“Isabella just told me a very interesting story,” Dante said, pacing slowly around the table, putting himself between Vincenzo and the corner where I was still shielding Leo. “She said she was checking on Nico the night he died.”
Vincenzo’s jaw tightened. “She was, Boss. I sent her. Nico was in a bad way. We were trying to protect his reputation.”
“And the drawing?” Dante asked, gesturing to the paper in my hand.
“The kid has an active imagination,” Vincenzo lied smoothly. “He’s been drawing monsters for months.”
Isabella let out a shaky breath, clearly relieved that Vincenzo was backing up her story.
But I couldn't let it go. My heart pounded against my ribs, but my eyes were locked on the gold watch.
“Where did you get that?” I blurted out.
Vincenzo’s eyes snapped to me, cold and dead. “Excuse me?”
“That watch,” I said, stepping slightly in front of Leo. “It belongs to my father. He lost it three months ago. The same week he shattered his hip at your construction site.”
The room went dead silent.
Dante turned to look at me, a profound confusion mixing with the rage in his eyes. “Claire, what are you talking about?”
“My father was a foreman for Moretti Developments,” I said, the pieces suddenly clicking together in my mind in a horrifying rush. “He supposedly fell because of a faulty scaffold. But he always said the bolts had been removed. Nobody believed him. And he mysteriously lost his watch that same day.”
I pointed a trembling finger at Vincenzo. “He didn't lose it. You took it.”
Vincenzo’s calm facade shattered. His hand moved toward the inside of his jacket, reaching for his holster.
“Don’t do it, Vince,” Dante warned, his own hand already wrapped around the grip of the pistol tucked into his waistband.
“The maid is a liability, Dante,” Vincenzo barked, the polite obedience entirely gone. “Nico was going to turn state’s evidence! He was talking to the FBI about the construction sites. I found the burner phone. I did what had to be done to protect the family!”
“You murdered my brother,” Dante whispered, the betrayal carving deep lines into his face.
“I saved your empire!” Vincenzo roared. “And this bitch,” he gestured to Isabella, “helped me because she wanted to marry you, make sure Nico’s kid was institutionalized, and take control of the trusts!”
Isabella let out a horrified sob, sinking to her knees. Her grand plan was in ruins.
“Drop the gun, Vince,” Dante said, stepping closer.
“No,” Vincenzo said, taking a step backward toward the French doors leading to the patio. “I’m walking out of here.”
He backed up, pushing the glass doors open with his shoulder. The cold Connecticut night air rushed into the dining room.
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Before Vincenzo could turn and run, Rosa Moretti, seventy-two years old and completely deaf, reached out and grabbed Isabella’s champagne winter coat off the back of a nearby chair.
With surprising strength, Rosa hurled the heavy coat directly at Vincenzo’s face.
