Chapter 5 - THE CHILD'S DRAWING ON THE WALL
The blinding halogen spotlight pinned us against my faded Corolla.
I threw my arm up to shield my eyes, clutching the birth certificate and the brass key to my chest.
Luca didn't flinch. He stepped smoothly in front of me, shielding my body with his own, his hand instinctively resting on the grip of his sidearm.
“Stand down, Vanessa,” Luca’s voice boomed across the loading dock, carrying absolute, lethal authority. “You’re trespassing on my property.”
“It’s not your property anymore, darling,” Vanessa taunted from the elevated dock.
She stepped into the edge of the light, flanked by four heavily armed Bellini thugs. She was still wearing her ruined champagne engagement gown, but the elegant facade was completely gone. She looked wild, desperate, and dangerous.
“Uncle Frank called an emergency meeting of the capos,” Vanessa sneered. “He told them you lost your mind and attacked him to protect a thieving maid. The family is backing Frank. You’ve been exiled, Luca.”
“Frank is a liar and a murderer,” Luca said coldly.
“Maybe,” Vanessa shrugged, pulling a small silver pistol from her clutch. “But history is written by the winners. Hand over the girl’s coat and the key, and I might let you walk away.”
“You’re not getting the key,” I shouted, stepping out from behind Luca. “It belongs to my mother’s accounts. It belongs to us.”
Vanessa laughed sharply. “Oh, sweet, stupid Emily. You still don't get it, do you? Your mother didn't hide money in that deposit box.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “Then what did she hide?”
“She hid the proof that my father ordered the hit on Antonio,” Vanessa spat. “The ledger that connects the Bellinis to the murder. If the Commission sees that ledger, my family is ruined. We’ll be slaughtered. I am not losing my empire because a bookkeeper couldn't keep her mouth shut.”
She raised her gun, aiming directly at my head.
“Kill them both,” Vanessa ordered her men.
“Get down!” Luca roared.
He tackled me to the wet pavement just as the thugs opened fire. The deafening roar of automatic weapons shattered the quiet night. The windows of my Corolla exploded, showering us in broken glass.
Luca returned fire from the ground, his shots precise and deadly. Two of Vanessa’s men dropped instantly.
“Cover me!” Luca yelled.
He didn't wait for a response. He surged upward, using the engine block of my car for cover, and laid down a suppressing fire that forced Vanessa and her remaining men to dive behind the concrete loading pillars.
“Run to the tree line!” Luca commanded, pulling me to my feet.
I scrambled through the wet grass, my lungs burning, clutching the waterproof pouch like a lifeline. Luca was right behind me, covering our retreat. We disappeared into the thick fog of the estate’s outer woods.
We ran blindly until the shouts of Vanessa’s men faded into the distance.
We collapsed behind a massive oak tree, gasping for air.
Luca leaned against the bark, checking his magazine. He was unharmed, but his eyes were filled with a terrifying, protective fury.
He looked at me in the dark.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice rough.
“No,” I breathed, shivering in the cold dampness.
Luca looked down at the birth certificate still clutched in my hand.
“My father had two families,” Luca whispered, the betrayal of a lifetime settling over him. “He was married to your mother first. They had me. But the family didn't approve of her because she wasn't Italian. She was just a bookkeeper. So they forced him to leave her and marry my mother, an arranged mafia bride.”
“But my mother kept you a secret?” I asked, trying to piece it together.
“No,” Luca said, shaking his head. “My father took me. He raised me in the estate. He paid your mother to stay away, to keep me safe from the violence. And then... she had you.”
I realized the truth. I wasn't just a maid. I was the legitimate daughter of Antonio Moretti’s true love. I was Luca’s half-sister.
“Vanessa knows what’s in the safety deposit box,” I said, looking at the brass key. “But she doesn't know where the box is.”
“Do you?” Luca asked.
I thought desperately. My mother had never mentioned a bank, a vault, or a safe. We lived paycheck to paycheck.
“Wait,” I gasped. “Sam.”
“What about him?”
“When Sam was six years old, he drew a picture for my mother,” I explained, my words tumbling out rapidly. “It was a drawing of a big, ugly brick building with a clock tower. My mother cried when she saw it. She framed it and hung it in our kitchen. She always said it was her ‘favorite bank in the world’ because it held her most precious memory.”
“Where is the drawing now?” Luca asked, his eyes sharpening.
“It’s still hanging in our apartment,” I said.
“The apartment Vanessa’s men just tossed,” Luca cursed softly.
“They wouldn't look twice at a child’s crayon drawing,” I insisted. “If we can get back there and see the building in the picture, we can find the box.”
We made it back to the hidden SUV. Sam was terrified but safe in the floorboards.
We drove back to the South Side as the sun began to rise.
We crept up the fire escape to our apartment. The door had been kicked in. The cheap furniture was overturned, the mattresses slashed.
I ran to the kitchen.
My heart dropped into my stomach.
The wall above the small dining table was empty. The framed drawing was gone.
But pinned to the drywall with a massive, terrifying hunting knife, was a note written on elegant, heavy cardstock.
Luca pulled the knife from the wall and read the note.
May you like
If you want the drawing, and the truth, come to the abandoned railyard on 4th Street. Come alone, Emily. Or the next knife goes into your brother’s heart. — Uncle Frank.
TITLE: THE TRAIN TICKET TO NOWHERE
