Chapter 7 - The Rosary With The Hollow Cross
Luca stared at the rosary in his palm.
The beads were worn, the silver darkened by age.
“My mother’s rosary,” Luca whispered.
He looked at my father. “She died when I was twelve. How do you have this?”
My father leaned back in the chair, looking exhausted. “Your father gave it to me the day he let me walk away from the syndicate. He told me it contained his final insurance policy.”
Luca frowned, inspecting the crucifix. It was unusually thick.
He gripped the top and bottom of the cross and twisted.
With a soft click, the bottom half unscrewed.
The cross was hollow.
Inside was a small, tightly rolled strip of microfilm.
I watched as Luca took it out, his hands remarkably steady for a man whose entire reality had just been rewritten.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Proof,” my father answered before Luca could. “Your father knew Isabella was plotting to take over the family. He knew she was using offshore accounts to fund a rival syndicate. He gathered all the evidence on that film. Bank records, wiretaps, names of corrupt politicians on her payroll.”
Luca stared at the tiny roll of film. “If my father had this, why didn’t he destroy Isabella himself?”
“Because she was his sister,” my father said quietly. “Lorenzo was a ruthless man, but he couldn’t kill his own blood. So he gave the proof to me. He told me to keep it hidden, and only use it if Isabella ever moved against you.”
Luca looked at the little boy sitting on the couch. His son.
“She moved against my son,” Luca said, his voice hardening into something sharp and deadly.
“Yes,” my father nodded. “With that film, you can destroy her entire network. You can hand it over to the Feds anonymously. Isabella’s allies will abandon her overnight when the accounts are frozen.”
Luca stood up. The vulnerability was gone. The boss of the Chicago syndicate had returned.
“Marco,” Luca called out to his security chief, who was guarding the door.
“Yes, Boss.”
“Take this film to the accountant. Have him verify the routing numbers, then send the entire package to the FBI field office. Tell them it’s a gift from a concerned citizen.”
Marco took the film. “And Isabella?”
“By morning, she’ll be a fugitive with no money and no friends,” Luca said coldly. “We will find her.”
Marco left the penthouse.
The room grew quiet again.
I looked at my father. He looked smaller, older, the weight of a twenty-year secret finally lifted from his shoulders.
Tommy walked over and put a hand on Dad’s shoulder. “You did good, old man.”
Dad smiled faintly.
Luca turned to my father. “Thomas. You saved my son. You protected my legacy. I owe you a debt I can never repay.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Luca,” my father said. “I did it because it was right. Now, I just want to go home with my kids.”
“You can’t go back to the apartment,” Luca said. “It’s compromised. You’ll stay here until it’s safe. Then, I’ll buy you a house anywhere you want.”
My father shook his head. “I appreciate it. But we don’t belong in your world.”
Luca looked at me.
Our eyes met across the room.
For eleven months, I had been invisible to him. Just a girl in a uniform who cleaned his floors.
Tonight, I had stood beside him, uncovered his fiancée’s betrayal, and helped save his son.
“Maybe the world needs to change,” Luca said softly, his eyes never leaving mine.
He walked over to the couch and sat down next to Leo.
The little boy looked up at him.
“Are you my dad?” Leo asked simply.
Luca’s tough exterior shattered. A single tear rolled down his cheek.
“Yes,” Luca choked out. “I am. And I am so sorry I wasn’t there.”
Leo shrugged. “Pops said you would come when the bad people were gone. Are they gone now?”
“They will be,” Luca promised. “Forever.”
I smiled, feeling a profound sense of peace. The nightmare was ending.
I walked toward the kitchen to get some water for my dad.
As I passed the hallway console table, I noticed Vanessa’s red clutch lying there. Marco must have brought it up from the car.
The clasp was open.
I didn’t want to touch it. I hated everything it represented.
But something caught my eye.
Tucked inside a zippered pocket in the lining was a small, folded piece of paper. Not a photograph. Not a bank statement.
It looked like a handwritten letter.
I pulled it out.
It was addressed to Emma.
In Vanessa’s handwriting.
My heart pounded in my chest.
I opened it.
Emma,
If you are reading this, I am likely dead or in prison. I always knew Isabella would turn on me.
You think your father is a hero. You think he protected you from the mafia.
Ask him about the night your mother died.
Ask him why he really quit being an enforcer.
I stopped breathing.
I looked back into the living room, where my father was laughing softly with Tommy.
Your mother didn’t die of an illness, Emma. And she wasn’t a saint.
She was going to sell Isabella’s secrets to the Feds. Your father found out.
May you like
Ask him who cut the brakes on her car.
TITLE: The Necklace In The Locked Cedar Box
