Chapter 5 - THE HIDDEN LEDGER
The silence that followed Luca’s confession felt heavier than the gunfire.
“You lied?” I whispered, clutching Sam’s arm. “Luca, they’ll kill us all when they find out.”
“They were going to kill us anyway,” Luca said flatly, wrapping a clean dish towel around his bleeding arm. “Dominic Vance doesn't leave loose ends. If I had given him the real code, he would have emptied the box and shot your brother to send a message.”
Rosa stepped into the kitchen, looking at the broken glass and blood.
She walked over to Luca, her hands trembling as she helped him tighten the makeshift bandage.
“Luca, what do we do now?” she asked, her voice tight with fear.
“We fight,” Luca said. “But not here. This house is compromised.”
He looked at his head of security, Marco, who had just entered the kitchen.
“Marco. Are the tunnels clear?”
Marco nodded.
“Yes, Boss. We have three armored SUVs waiting in the subterranean garage. We can get you, Rosa, Emily, and the boy out before Dominic regroups.”
“What about Vanessa?” Rosa asked, looking toward the hallway.
Luca’s face turned completely cold.
“Leave her in the library. When Dominic realizes the code is fake, he can ask her for the real one.”
“Luca, you can't leave her to them!” I gasped. I disliked Vanessa immensely, but nobody deserved to face the New York mafia alone.
Luca turned to me, his eyes hard.
“She sold my mother to a hitman, Emily. She traded our lives for a cut of the money. She sealed her own fate.”
He didn't wait for another argument.
He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the service elevator.
“Move. Now.”
We descended into the dark, concrete tunnels beneath the estate.
The air was damp and smelled of gasoline.
Marco ushered us into a heavy, black SUV. Sam and I sat in the back with Rosa, while Luca took the passenger seat up front.
The heavy steel doors of the garage opened, and we sped out into the night, the rain hammering against the bulletproof glass.
I held Sam’s hand tightly. He was staring out the window, completely shell-shocked.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“A safe house,” Luca answered without looking back. “A place my father bought years ago under a shell corporation. New York doesn't know about it.”
“And then what?”
Luca looked at me through the rearview mirror.
“Then, we find the real code.”
Rosa let out a small, distressed sigh.
“Luca, I told you, Anthony never gave me the code. I swear to you.”
“I believe you, Ma,” Luca said gently. “But Dad was careful. He wouldn't leave twenty-two million dollars in a box without leaving a way for Emily to access it when she turned eighteen.”
He turned around in his seat to look at me.
“Emily. Think carefully. Did your father ever give you anything before he died? A letter, a toy, a piece of jewelry?”
I shook my head immediately.
“No. I was a baby when he died. My mother didn't keep anything of his. She said it was too painful.”
Luca frowned.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing,” I insisted.
But then, a memory flickered in my mind.
Not of my father.
Of my mother.
Last year, when my mother had her surgery, we couldn't pay the hospital bills. I had found her crying in her bedroom, holding a small, wooden box she kept hidden under her bed.
I had asked her if we could sell whatever was inside to pay the debt.
She had slapped my hand away, fiercely protective.
“This doesn't belong to us, Emily. It belongs to the man who ruined our lives. And we will never touch it.”
I gasped, sitting up straight.
Luca saw the change in my expression.
“What is it?”
“My mother,” I said, my voice shaking. “She has a wooden box. She’s kept it hidden my entire life.”
Luca’s eyes widened.
“Where is your mother right now?”
“At the apartment,” I said, panic rising in my chest. “In the city. The same apartment Mr. Peterson just kidnapped Sam from.”
Luca didn't hesitate.
He turned to the driver.
“Change course. We’re going to the apartment.”
Marco leaned forward from the back seat of the escort vehicle, his voice crackling over the radio.
“Boss, that’s a bad idea. New York knows the address. They might still have men there.”
“Then we go in heavy,” Luca commanded. “If Dominic gets to that box before we do, we lose our only leverage.”
The SUV swerved sharply, the tires screeching on the wet pavement as we headed back toward the city.
We arrived at my apartment building twenty minutes later.
The front door was smashed open.
My heart hammered in my throat as Luca and Marco led the way up the narrow stairs, their guns drawn.
“Mom!” I yelled, pushing past Luca as we reached the second floor.
I burst into our small apartment.
It was completely trashed.
Furniture was overturned, drawers were emptied onto the floor, and the cheap wallpaper was torn.
But the apartment was empty.
My mother was gone.
“Mom!” I screamed, dropping to my knees in the center of the ruined living room.
Sam fell beside me, crying openly now.
Luca scanned the room, his jaw clenched tightly.
He walked into my mother’s small bedroom.
A moment later, he walked back out, holding something in his hand.
It was the small, wooden box.
It had been smashed open with a hammer.
And it was completely empty.
“They found it,” Luca said, his voice grim. “Dominic took it.”
I sobbed, burying my face in my hands.
“They took her, Luca. They took my mother.”
Luca walked over and crouched down beside me.
He gently placed a hand on my shoulder.
“We will get her back, Emily. I promise you.”
“How?!” I cried, looking up at him with angry tears. “They have the box! They have the code! We have nothing!”
Luca looked at the smashed wooden box in his hand.
He turned it over.
“Not quite,” Luca said softly.
He pointed to a small, hidden compartment built into the false bottom of the wooden box.
The New York men had smashed the top, taking whatever was inside, but they had missed the secret panel underneath.
Luca pulled out a small, folded piece of paper.
It was yellowed and brittle with age.
He carefully unfolded it under the flickering light of the apartment hallway.
It wasn't a code.
It wasn't a password.
It was a birth certificate.
My birth certificate.
But the name of the father wasn't Richard Carter.
The name written on the line, in clear, faded ink, was Anthony Moretti.
The room went completely, terrifyingly silent.
Luca stared at the paper, his face turning pale.
He slowly looked up at his mother, Rosa, who was standing in the doorway.
Rosa covered her mouth with both hands, letting out a shattered, heartbreaking sob.
Luca looked back at me.
The realization hit me like a physical blow, knocking the breath from my lungs.
Richard Carter wasn't my father.
The man who had ordered him killed... the man who had hidden twenty-two million dollars for me...
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Anthony Moretti was my father.
And the mafia boss kneeling beside me... was my brother.
