Chapter 10 - THE BIRD IN FLIGHT
The diamond necklace sparkled against the dark velvet, but my eyes were locked on the small gold bird.
“The masterpiece?” Luca asked, looking just as confused as I felt.
Beatrice nodded, her expression serious.
“Elena didn’t just write lullabies, Luca. Before she died, she composed a symphony. A brilliant, sweeping piece of music that she believed would change the classical world. She called it The Flight of the Phoenix.”
My father stepped closer, his scarred face pale.
“I remember,” Matteo whispered. “She worked on it in secret. She said it was too dangerous to publish while Carlo Bellini was watching her.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because the symphony wasn’t just music,” Beatrice explained. “Elena coded the locations of Carlo’s hidden overseas accounts into the sheet music. The authorities have the affidavit now, but without the accounts, Carlo can still fund his empire from prison.”
Luca’s jaw tightened. “So he isn’t completely powerless yet.”
“Not unless we find that symphony,” Beatrice said.
She pointed to the necklace in my hands.
“Elena gave that necklace to your mother, Emma. Sarah promised to hide the symphony where Carlo could never, ever find it. And she left that bird as a clue.”
I stared at the gold pendant.
A bird in flight.
My mother had drawn that bird dozens of times in the margins of her diaries, diaries I had kept in a shoebox under my bed for sixteen years.
“I know where it is,” I whispered.
Luca looked at me. “Where?”
“My mother used to take me to the old St. Jude’s Cathedral on the west side. There was a stained glass window in the choir loft. A dove in flight.”
My father nodded slowly. “Sarah loved that cathedral. She sang in the choir there before she had to go into hiding.”
Luca didn’t waste a second.
“Marco,” Luca called out. “Have the car brought around. We’re going to St. Jude’s.”
Thirty minutes later, we were standing inside the cavernous, echoing nave of St. Jude’s Cathedral.
The church was empty, the late afternoon sun filtering through the massive stained-glass windows, casting colorful shadows across the stone floor.
I led Luca and my father up the narrow, winding wooden stairs to the choir loft.
It smelled of old incense and beeswax candles.
At the very back of the loft was a large circular window depicting a dove taking flight.
“Look,” I pointed to the wooden paneling beneath the window.
Carved into the dark oak was the exact same shape as the gold pendant on the necklace.
My hands trembled as I took the necklace from my pocket.
I pressed the gold bird pendant into the carving.
It fit perfectly.
I pushed.
There was a soft click, and a small wooden panel slid open.
Inside was a sealed, waterproof cylinder.
Luca reached in and pulled it out. He unscrewed the cap and slid out a thick, rolled-up manuscript of sheet music.
Across the top page, in bold, beautiful calligraphy, it read:
The Flight of the Phoenix. By Elena Moretti.
“She did it,” Luca whispered, awestruck by his mother’s brilliance.
“We have the accounts,” my father said, tears in his eyes. “Carlo is finished.”
I smiled, feeling a profound sense of closure. My mother had been a hero. She had protected this secret until her dying breath.
But as Luca unrolled the manuscript to look at the notes, a piece of paper fell from the center of the roll.
It fluttered to the floor.
I bent down and picked it up.
It was a letter. Addressed to me.
To my dearest Emma.
My heart stopped.
I opened the letter.
If you are reading this, my sweet girl, it means the darkness has finally passed. It means you are safe. But there is one last truth you must know.
I read the next line, and the cathedral around me seemed to fade away entirely.
I looked up at my father, Matteo.
Then I looked at Luca.
“What is it, Emma?” Luca asked, stepping closer, seeing the shock on my face.
I handed him the letter.
May you like
“Carlo Bellini wasn’t just trying to steal the Moretti empire,” I whispered, my voice echoing in the empty church. “He was trying to steal me.”
TITLE: The Heir to the Empire
