Chapter 10 - THE ASSET IN THE BOOK
The book slipped from Marco’s hands and hit the hardwood floor with a heavy thud.
The sunlight streaming through the study window suddenly felt entirely cold.
"An asset to be collected," I read the words aloud, my voice shaking. "Marco. This ledger is forty years old. I wasn't even born yet."
Marco stared at the open page on the floor, his jaw tight. "My grandfather, Carmine, wrote this. He was ruthless. If someone owed him a debt, he collected it in blood or property."
Answer one: My father’s connection to the DeLuca family didn't start the night he saved Marco. It started decades earlier. Thomas Brooks had owed the old Don a massive debt, and he had pledged me—his unborn child—as collateral.
"But why?" I whispered, wrapping my arms around myself. "My dad was just a driver. What could he possibly have done to owe a mafia Don a life?"
Before Marco could answer, the door to the study opened.
Rosa stood in the doorway, holding a silver tray with two cups of tea. When she saw the ledger on the floor, her scarred hands began to tremble so violently the teacups rattled against the silver.
"You found it," Rosa breathed, stepping into the room and setting the tray down before she dropped it.
"Mama," Marco stepped toward her, his voice careful but demanding. "Why do you have Carmine’s ledger? And why is Hannah’s name in it?"
Rosa looked at me, her dark eyes filled with a profound, sorrowful guilt. She walked to an armchair and sank into it, as if the weight of the secret had suddenly broken her knees.
"Thomas Brooks was not just a driver," Rosa confessed quietly. "Before you were born, Hannah, your father was a jewel thief. A very good one. He worked for the rival families, stealing to order."
I stared at her, my entire perception of my father shattering for the second time in two weeks.
"Forty-two years ago," Rosa continued, looking at her hands. "Carmine DeLuca purchased a very specific gem. The Calabrian Emerald. It was a peace offering, meant to secure a truce with the New York syndicates. But the night before the meeting... Thomas stole it."
"My dad stole from your grandfather?" I asked Marco in disbelief. "And they let him live?"
"They caught him," Rosa said. "They brought him to this very house. Carmine was going to kill him. But your father begged. He said his young wife was sick. He said he had already fenced the emerald to a private buyer and couldn't get it back."
"So he pledged his future child?" Marco asked, disgusted.
Rosa shook her head. "No. Thomas pledged his loyalty. He agreed to serve the DeLuca family as an indentured driver for the rest of his life. The note about the daughter... Carmine wrote that himself. Carmine said if Thomas ever betrayed the family, the debt would transfer to his child."
Open two: If the debt transferred to me, who is coming to collect it? Carmine is dead. Rocco is in jail. Marco would never enforce it.
"Carmine is dead, Mama," Marco said gently, kneeling beside her. "The debt is void."
"You don't understand, Tony," Rosa whispered, grabbing Marco’s wrist. "Carmine didn't just write it in the book. He sold the debt to the New York syndicate when he couldn't produce the emerald. The New York family holds the marker on Hannah's life."
My blood ran cold. The New York syndicates were infamous. They were larger, quieter, and far more violent than the Boston families.
"They never came for me," I reasoned, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. "I'm twenty-five. They've never bothered us."
"Because Rocco paid them off," Marco realized, standing up and pacing the room. "Rocco was sending tribute to New York every year to keep them from collecting Thomas's debt. It was part of Elena's offshore money."
"And now Elena is dead," Rosa said, tears welling in her eyes. "The accounts are seized. The tribute stopped paying last week."
The reality crashed down on me. I wasn't free. I had just traded a corrupt political boss for a terrifying New York crime family.
Suddenly, Marco’s phone buzzed.
He pulled it from his pocket. The caller ID was blocked.
He answered it, putting it on speaker.
"Marco DeLuca," a smooth, heavily accented voice said. "Congratulations on cleaning your house. We heard about Elena."
"Who is this?" Marco demanded.
"My name is Dante," the voice replied. "I represent the New York commission. We noticed our tribute didn't clear the accounts this morning."
"The accounts are frozen," Marco said smoothly. "Give me two weeks, Dante. I’ll make the payment from my personal legitimate funds."
"Oh, we don't want your money, Marco," Dante laughed softly. "Without Rocco, your family is toothless. We are calling in the collateral on the Brooks debt."
Marco’s jaw clenched tight enough to snap bone. "The girl is under my protection. You come to Boston, you die."
"Brave words," Dante sighed. "But unnecessary. We aren't coming to Boston. We are already here."
"Where?" Marco growled.
"Turn on your television," Dante said. "Channel 4 news."
Marco grabbed the remote and flicked on the small TV in the corner of the study.
The local news anchor was standing in front of Bellavista restaurant in the daylight.
"Breaking news this morning," the anchor said. "A massive fire has completely destroyed the historic Bellavista restaurant on the harbor. Authorities suspect arson."
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"I burned your restaurant, Marco," Dante’s voice whispered over the phone. "Bring Hannah Brooks to the old shipping yard at Pier 7 by midnight. Or the next fire will be the brownstone your mother is currently sitting in."
TITLE: THE EMERALD IN THE WALL
