Chapter 5 - THE MOTHERS WE NEVER KNEW
The silence in the office was deafening. The only sound was the heavy rain pounding against the roof and the faint hiss of Vanessa’s silver lighter.
Michael stood completely still, his hand trembling as it hovered over the crescent moon birthmark on his neck. He looked at the Polaroid in Luca’s hand, then at me, and finally at Vanessa.
“You’re insane,” Michael whispered. “My mother died in a car accident when I was two.”
Julian Vance stepped further into the light, gripping the leather ledger tight. “The woman who raised Luca died in a car accident. But she wasn’t your mother, Michael. Your father had an affair with Sarah Carter. When Sarah got pregnant, Marcus Bellini found out. He tried to use it to blackmail your father into giving him this restaurant.”
I felt like the floor was giving way beneath me.
My mother? An affair with Mr. Moretti?
“No,” I stammered, shaking my head. “My mother was married to my father. He died of leukemia before I was born.”
“Your father was a good man, Emily,” Julian said softly. “He knew about the affair. He forgave her. He agreed to raise you as his own, and to keep Michael’s existence a secret to protect him from the mafia war.”
“Shut up!” Vanessa screamed. She dropped the lighter.
It hit the carpet.
WHOOSH.
A wall of blue and orange fire erupted across the dining room entrance, instantly separating us from Vanessa and her remaining men. The heat was immediate and suffocating.
“The basement!” Luca roared over the roar of the flames.
He grabbed my arm and shoved me toward the kitchen door. The old wood paneling of the restaurant was catching fast. Smoke billowed against the ceiling, thick and black.
Michael didn’t move. He was staring at the flames, paralyzed by shock.
Luca grabbed him by the collar of his suit and threw him forward. “Move, Mike! Now!”
We stumbled through the kitchen. The smoke was burning my lungs. I coughed violently, my eyes watering.
“The basement stairs are past the walk-in freezer!” I yelled, remembering the layout from when I used to play here as a child while my mom worked.
Julian was right behind us, coughing into his sleeve, still clutching the ledger.
We reached the heavy wooden door leading downstairs. Luca yanked it open. We tumbled down the concrete steps into the damp, dark cellar.
The smell of gasoline was overwhelmingly strong down here.
Luca swept his flashlight across the room.
In the center of the basement, tied to a wooden chair with thick zip ties, was my mother. Her face was bruised, and a strip of silver duct tape covered her mouth.
“Mom!” I screamed, sprinting toward her.
I fell to my knees, tearing the tape from her mouth. She gasped for air, her eyes wide with terror.
“Emmy! You have to get out of here!” she sobbed.
Luca pulled a knife from his belt and sliced through the plastic ties binding her wrists and ankles.
Michael stood frozen a few feet away, staring at the woman who had poured him coffee every Sunday for his entire adult life.
My mother looked up. Her eyes met Michael’s.
Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to him. “I’m so sorry.”
Michael’s jaw clenched. He looked like he wanted to scream, but the smoke was thickening, creeping down the stairs.
“We can have a family reunion later,” Luca coughed, pulling my mother to her feet. “Is there another way out of here? The stairs are blocked by fire.”
My mother grabbed Luca’s arm. “The old coal chute. At the back of the cellar. It leads out to the alley.”
“Go!” Luca ordered.
We ran to the back wall. High up near the ceiling was a rusted iron door. Luca climbed onto a stack of wooden pallets and kicked the door open. Cold rain and fresh air poured in.
He pushed my mother up first. Then me. I scrambled out onto the muddy gravel of the alley, gasping for breath. Michael came next, pulled up by Luca. Finally, Julian handed up the ledger before Luca hoisted him out.
Luca climbed out last, just as a massive explosion rocked the building. The kitchen windows shattered, blowing glass out into the alley.
We huddled together behind a dumpster, watching as the restaurant—the place that had held our family’s darkest secrets for over two decades—was consumed by an inferno.
My mother slumped against the brick wall, coughing heavily. I held her tight, crying into her shoulder.
“Are you okay?” I asked frantically, checking her head for bleeding. “Did they hurt you?”
“I’m fine, baby,” she wheezed. Then she looked up at Julian. “You brought the ledger.”
Julian nodded grimly. “I did, Sarah.”
Luca stepped forward, his suit covered in ash. “What is in that book? And why did Vanessa want to burn this place down with you inside it?”
My mother looked at Luca. Her eyes were filled with immense sorrow.
“Because Vanessa’s father didn’t just want to blackmail your father twenty-three years ago,” my mother said softly. “He wanted to destroy him. And that ledger proves that Marcus Bellini wasn’t acting alone.”
“What do you mean?” Michael asked, finding his voice at last.
My mother took a shaky breath.
“Your father didn’t shoot Marcus Bellini in that photo,” she said, pointing to the polaroid sticking out of Luca’s pocket. “Someone else shot him to protect me. And your father took the blame to protect them.”
Luca frowned. “Who shot him?”
My mother reached out and took the heavy leather ledger from Julian’s hands. She unclasped the brass lock and opened it to the very first page.
Pinned to the inside cover was a faded train ticket from 1999.
And written in bold, blue ink across the ticket was a name.
Luca stared at the name, all the blood draining from his face.
“No,” Luca whispered, stepping back. “That’s impossible. He wasn’t even in the country.”
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My mother looked up at him with tears in her eyes.
“Your uncle didn’t go to Italy, Luca. He was here. And he’s the one who gave Vanessa the order to kill me tonight.”
