Chapter 8 - THE HEAVY SILVER ROSARY
The address written on the back of my mother’s sixteen-year-old train ticket didn't lead to a bank.
It led to a massive, gothic Catholic cathedral in the heart of downtown Chicago. St. Jude’s.
“A church?” Sam asked, looking up at the towering stone spires as Luca parked the SUV illegally on the curb.
“The mafia uses banks,” Luca explained, checking his spare magazine before tucking it into his vest. “My father wanted the legitimate fortune hidden somewhere sacred. Somewhere the Commission couldn't touch without breaking the old laws.”
We pushed open the heavy wooden doors. The cathedral was empty, the air smelling of frankincense and old polished wood. Stained glass windows cast long, colorful shadows across the marble floor.
“Where would she hide a safety deposit box in a church?” I asked, my voice hushed by the sheer size of the sanctuary.
“Not a box,” Luca realized, looking toward the altar. “A reliquary. A private crypt.”
We walked down the side aisle toward the columbarium—a quiet, stone room beneath the main floor where ashes and private family artifacts were stored.
As we descended the stone steps, a soft, echoing laugh sent a chill down my spine.
Vanessa was already there.
She stood in front of a heavily ornate bronze gate that blocked off a private family alcove. Above the gate, engraved in the stone, was the name: Moretti.
Vanessa was desperately trying to jam the brass key into the ancient iron padlock that secured the gate.
“It won't turn!” Vanessa screamed, kicking the iron gate with her expensive heels. She spun around as we entered, aiming her gun at us. Her hair was a mess, her makeup smeared. She looked completely unhinged.
“Give me the combination!” Vanessa demanded, pointing the gun at me. “There’s a second lock! Tell me what it is!”
“I don't know,” I said honestly, raising my hands. “My mother never told me.”
“Liar!” Vanessa shrieked.
Luca stepped in front of me, his own weapon lowered, relying on his sheer, intimidating presence.
“The key you stole opens the ledger box inside, Vanessa,” Luca said calmly. “But the gate requires a family artifact to unlock. Something you don't have.”
Vanessa stared at him, breathing heavily. “What artifact?”
Luca reached into his pocket. He didn't pull out a gun.
He pulled out a heavy, antique silver rosary.
“This belonged to my father,” Luca said, holding the rosary up. The silver cross caught the dim candlelight of the crypt. “It’s not just a necklace. It’s the master key to the family crypt.”
Vanessa’s eyes widened with greedy desperation. “Give it to me, Luca. Give it to me, and I’ll let you and the maid walk away.”
“She’s not a maid,” Luca said, his voice echoing with absolute finality. “She is Emily Moretti. She is my sister. And this fortune belongs to her.”
Vanessa laughed, a bitter, broken sound. “She doesn't deserve it! I was bred for this! I was supposed to be the Queen of Chicago! You ruined everything!”
She raised her gun, aiming it directly at my head, ignoring Luca entirely.
“If I can't have the empire, there won't be an heir left to claim it,” Vanessa sneered.
She pulled the trigger.
Click.
The gun didn't fire.
Vanessa froze, staring at the weapon in shock. She pulled the trigger again.
Click. Click.
Luca didn't smile, but a dark satisfaction settled in his eyes.
“You picked up a gun dropped by one of your thugs on the roof, Vanessa,” Luca said softly. “You didn't check the magazine. It’s empty.”
Vanessa dropped the useless gun, letting out a scream of pure frustration. She lunged forward, trying to grab the rosary from Luca’s hand with her bare hands.
Luca caught her wrists effortlessly, twisting her around and pinning her against the cold stone wall of the crypt.
“It’s over, Vanessa,” Luca whispered in her ear. “Your family is dead. Your power is gone. And if you ever come near my sister again, I won't leave it to the Commission to handle you.”
He shoved her toward the stairs.
“Run,” Luca commanded.
Vanessa stumbled, looking back at us with pure hatred. But she saw the cold, unforgiving resolve in Luca’s eyes. She turned and fled up the stone steps, disappearing into the shadows of the cathedral.
The heavy silence returned to the crypt.
Luca turned to the bronze gate. He slid the heavy silver cross of the rosary into a hidden slot in the center of the padlock.
He turned it.
With a heavy, metallic groan, the ancient lock released.
Luca pulled the gate open.
He looked at me, stepping aside.
“After you, Emily,” he said softly.
I walked into the small alcove. Resting on a marble pedestal was a simple wooden box with a brass keyhole.
I took a deep breath. I reached out and inserted the brass key my mother had hidden in her coat.
May you like
I turned it, and opened the lid to the future my mother had died trying to protect.
TITLE: THE FAMILY HEIRLOOM IN THE LIGHT
