Chapter 5 - THE TATTOO IN THE DARK
Carlo Bellini looked older than the monster in my memories, but his eyes were exactly the same. Cold, dead, and entirely merciless.
He leveled the shotgun at Luca’s chest.
“Put the boy down, Luciano,” Carlo rasped.
Luca didn’t move. He held Leo tighter against his chest, his own weapon still in his hand, though angled downward.
“You’re trespassing, Carlo,” Luca said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
“I’m collecting what’s mine,” Carlo sneered. He glanced at the fireproof box in my hands. “Give me the tape and the drawing, girl. Your mother was a fool to run. Don’t make her mistake.”
My hands gripped the metal box.
This man had killed my mother. He had burned Elena Moretti alive.
And I had watched him do it when I was five years old.
The repressed memory flashed behind my eyes—the smell of gasoline, the heat of the flames, my mother dragging me out of the mansion through a side door while Carlo stood laughing in the hallway.
“You murdered them,” I said, my voice trembling with rage.
Carlo laughed dryly. “It was business. Antonio Moretti wouldn’t share the ports. Elena thought she could expose my operations. I simply silenced the noise.”
“By burning a woman alive?” Luca spat.
“It sent a message,” Carlo shrugged. “And now, I’m sending another one. The tape. Now.”
Luca slowly lowered Leo to the floor, pushing the boy gently behind his legs.
“Emma,” Luca said without taking his eyes off Carlo. “Give him the box.”
“No!” I cried. “Luca, this is the proof! This will put him away forever!”
“Give it to him,” Luca repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I looked at him, feeling betrayed. But then I saw the slight tilt of his head.
He was calculating.
I slowly held out the metal box.
Carlo smirked. He stepped fully into the living room, keeping the shotgun leveled with one hand while reaching out with the other.
“Smart girl. Just like your mother in the end. She begged for her life in that parking lot.”
The words hit me like a physical blow.
As Carlo’s fingers brushed the metal box, I didn’t hand it to him.
I swung it.
I smashed the heavy fireproof box directly into the side of his knee.
Carlo roared in pain, his leg buckling. The shotgun fired blindly into the ceiling, showering us in plaster and dust.
Luca lunged.
He tackled Carlo to the floor, disarming the older man in a blur of motion. Luca’s fist collided with Carlo’s jaw, a sickening crunch echoing in the small room.
Carlo lay dazed on the floorboards, bleeding from his mouth.
Luca stood up, breathing heavily, and pointed his Glock directly at Carlo’s head.
“You don’t get to talk about her mother,” Luca growled.
I grabbed Leo, pulling the terrified boy into my arms and covering his ears.
“It’s okay, Leo,” I whispered into his hair. “We’re okay.”
Sirens began to wail in the distance.
The silent alarm. My mother’s final safeguard was bringing the police.
Carlo groaned, spitting blood onto the dusty floor. He looked up at Luca and smiled a bloody, jagged smile.
“You think this is over, boy?” Carlo laughed. “You think a tape and a crayon drawing will bring down the Bellini empire?”
“It’s enough to put you in a federal cell,” Luca said.
“Maybe,” Carlo coughed. “But I’m an old man. I don’t care about a cell. I care about legacy. And my legacy is secure.”
Luca frowned. “Vanessa has nothing. I stripped her of everything.”
Carlo’s smile widened.
“Vanessa is a pawn,” Carlo wheezed. “She was just a distraction to keep you busy.”
Luca’s gun wavered slightly.
“What are you talking about?”
“Did you ever wonder why I let Matteo Santoro live?” Carlo asked, his eyes gleaming with malicious joy. “He was in the music room. He saw me set the fire. I could have killed him in the hospital.”
Luca stepped closer. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because he made a deal with me,” Carlo whispered.
My blood ran cold.
“You’re lying,” I said. “Mr. Santoro loved your mother, Luca. He wouldn’t betray her.”
Carlo looked at me.
“He loved Elena, yes,” Carlo said. “But he loved his own daughter more.”
Luca froze. “Matteo doesn’t have a daughter.”
“He didn’t,” Carlo laughed. “Until he adopted a little orphan girl to replace the family he lost in the fire. A little girl named Emma.”
The room completely stopped spinning.
It shattered.
I backed away, clutching Leo.
“No,” I stammered. “My name is Emma Sullivan. My mother was Sarah Sullivan.”
Carlo pointed a trembling, bloody finger at me.
“Sarah Sullivan was barren. She couldn’t have children. She took you in because Matteo begged her to hide you.”
I looked at Luca. My chest was heaving.
“Luca, he’s lying. He’s just trying to hurt us.”
Luca didn’t look at me. He was staring at Carlo.
“Hide her from what?” Luca asked, his voice hollow.
Carlo chuckled, coughing up more blood.
“From you, Luciano. Because Emma isn’t just a maid.”
Carlo’s eyes locked onto mine.
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“She is the illegitimate daughter of Antonio Moretti. She is your half-sister.”
TITLE: The Rosary in the Dust
