The Secret Beneath The Stone

Nobody moved.

The words on the plastic cassette tape burned into the silence.

*OCTOBER 14, 2019 — THE NIGHT I WAS POISONED.*

Five years ago, Antonio Moretti had been declared dead of an acute myocardial infarction. A sudden massive heart attack in his sleep. No autopsy had been performed because the family doctor—Dr. Julian Vance—had signed the death certificate immediately, citing Antonio’s chronic hypertension.

Luca stood looking at the cassette on the floor. For the first time since I had worked in this house, I saw his hands tremble.

“Pick it up,” Luca whispered.

Marco didn’t move. Nobody moved.

I stepped forward. I didn't think about my job, or the danger, or the fact that I was just a maid in a house full of armed men. I just saw a son looking at the voice of his dead father.

I knelt down, picked up the cold plastic tape, and walked over to Luca.

“Mr. Moretti,” I said gently, extending my hand.

He looked at me. His eyes were bloodshot, full of a raw, agonizing grief that completely stripped away his mafia facade. He took the tape from my fingers. His skin was ice cold.

“Thank you, Emma,” he muttered.

Vanessa was hyperventilating against Marco’s grip. “Luca, listen to me! I didn't know what was on that tape! I swear! Matteo gave it to me!”

Luca’s head snapped up. “Matteo?”

Matteo Moretti was Luca’s first cousin. He managed the fleet operations down at the Calumet River docks. Quiet, dependable Matteo, who came to Sunday dinners and brought toys for the neighborhood kids.

“Matteo was with my father at the crypt?” Luca asked, his voice deadly quiet.

“Matteo planned the whole thing!” Vanessa shrieked, completely unraveling. “My father couldn't hire outsiders—people would talk! Matteo had the security codes to St. Jude’s! He took the lead box! He took the tape! He only gave me the rings because he said Mr. Kaplan wouldn't ask questions if a woman brought family jewelry for a wedding setting!”

Luca looked at Samuel.

“Did she tell you where she got them, Samuel?”

“She told me they were heirlooms from her grandmother’s estate,” Samuel said softly. “Until I looked at the inside band and saw your father’s initials. And my own maker’s mark from 1974.”

Luca turned toward his private study down the hall. “Bring her. Samuel, Emma, come with me.”

“Boss?” Marco asked, holding Vanessa by the arms.

“Get Dr. Vance,” Luca said. “Bring him to my study within twenty minutes. If he refuses to come, drag him.”

“Understood.”

We walked into the wood-paneled library. The scent of old leather, pipe tobacco, and rain hung heavy in the air. Luca walked behind his massive mahogany desk and opened a lower drawer, pulling out a vintage Sony cassette player.

His father’s player.

Luca put the tape into the slot. He pressed *PLAY.*

The machine hissed with static for three agonizing seconds. Then, a low, rasping voice filled the room.

*“Luca. If you are listening to this... Samuel Kaplan has done what I asked him to do, or the scavengers have finally dug up my bones.”*

Luca shut his eyes, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. It was Antonio’s voice. Weak, labored, but unmistakably Antonio Moretti.

*“I have less than two hours left. Vance gave me a digitalis cocktail in my evening scotch. He thought I was too tired to notice the bitter taste. He thought I didn't see him checking his watch while Carlo waited in the car outside.”*

Vanessa let out a small, whimpering cry and sank to her knees.

*“Carlo wants the trust funds,”* the voice on the tape continued, punctuated by heavy, painful breaths. *“He knows that fifty percent of the logistics company does not belong to me, nor does it belong to him. Thirty years ago, a man went to federal prison to protect this family from a fire we did not start. His name was Thomas Reed.”*

The world tilted beneath my feet.

My breath caught in my throat. I grabbed the edge of the leather armchair to keep from falling.

*Thomas Reed.*

My father.

*“Thomas took twenty years in Marion Penitentiary,”* Antonio’s voice whispered through the speaker. *“He never spoke a word. He lost his health, his name, and his dignity so the Moretti family could survive. When he was released, Carlo wanted him eliminated. I refused. I created a secret trust. Box 412 at First Continental Bank. The bearer of the key inside my wedding band controls the shares.”*

The tape clicked. Antonio took a ragged breath.

*“Carlo and Matteo will come for you next, Luca. They do not know where the key is. Only Kaplan knows the trick to the setting. Trust no one. Protect the boy. And find Thomas Reed’s child. Give them what is theirs.”*

A long beep sounded. Then static.

Silence slammed down on the room like an iron door.

Luca slowly turned his head. He didn't look at Vanessa. He didn't look at Samuel.

He looked straight at me.

“Emma,” Luca said softly. “What was your father’s name?”

I couldn't speak. Tears welled in my eyes, hot and blinding. “Thomas,” I whispered. “Thomas Reed.”

Before Luca could take a single step toward me, Marco kicked the study door open.

He was alone. His face was pale, his gun drawn.

“Boss,” Marco said, out of breath. “Matteo isn't at the docks. We just checked the security feed at the guest cottage.”

Luca straightened up instantly. “Where is Leo?”

Leo was Luca’s seven-year-old nephew—the son of Luca’s younger sister, who had passed away three years ago in a car crash. Luca raised the boy like his own son. Leo had been asleep in the west wing with his nanny.