Chapter 11 - [THE KEY TO THE ORPHANAGE]
The First National Bank of the city was an imposing structure of white marble and brass, a temple of old money and deep secrets.
Luca and I walked through the heavy revolving doors, skipping the teller lines and heading straight for the executive offices. I was wearing a simple black dress Luca had instructed his staff to buy for me, leaving my stained maid’s uniform behind forever. Luca wore a sharp black suit, but he lacked the intimidating mafia swagger of yesterday. Today, he looked like a man on a mission to erase his own name.
The bank manager, a nervous, balding man in wire-rimmed glasses, recognized Luca instantly.
“Mr. Moretti,” the manager stammered, rushing out from behind his desk. “We weren't expecting you. Is there a problem with the Syndicate accounts?”
“The Syndicate accounts are currently being frozen by the FBI,” Luca said calmly, watching the manager pale. “I’m not here for my money. I’m here for hers.”
Luca gestured to me.
“This is Olivia Hayes. She is the sole beneficiary of a trust set up twenty years ago by my father, Don Moretti.”
The manager blinked rapidly, looking at me as if I had just fallen from the sky. He hurried to his computer, his fingers trembling over the keyboard.
“Yes, yes, the Hayes Trust,” the manager confirmed, pulling up the file. “Two million dollars, accruing interest for two decades. It’s currently valued at just over four point five million, Miss Hayes.”
I stared at the screen. Four and a half million dollars. It was an unfathomable amount of money. It was the price of my father’s life. It made me physically sick to my stomach.
“I want to liquidate it,” I said, my voice remarkably steady. “All of it.”
“Liquidate?” The manager gasped. “Miss Hayes, that’s a massive withdrawal. Where would you like the funds transferred?”
I looked at Luca. He gave me a slow, encouraging nod.
“I don't want it transferred to a bank,” I said, pulling a piece of paper from my purse. I slid it across the mahogany desk. “I want every single cent transferred to this account. And I want the paperwork expedited today.”
The manager picked up the paper, adjusting his glasses. “St. Jude’s Children’s Home? Miss Hayes, this is a municipal orphanage. If you transfer the entire trust, it becomes an irrevocable charitable donation. You can’t get it back.”
“I know,” I said, feeling the immense weight of the past twenty years finally lifting off my shoulders. “My father was a good man. He fixed things that were broken. He wouldn't want this money. But he would want to fix the lives of kids who lost their parents just like I did.”
The manager stared at me, then at Luca, looking for permission.
“Do it,” Luca ordered.
Within an hour, the paperwork was signed. The Hayes Trust was dissolved, and St. Jude’s Children’s Home became one of the wealthiest orphanages in the state.
We walked out of the bank and into the bright afternoon sun. The city felt different. It felt lighter. The Bellini family was in jail, the Moretti criminal empire was being dismantled by the feds, and I had washed the blood money from my hands.
“How do you feel?” Luca asked quietly, walking beside me toward his car.
“Like I can finally breathe,” I smiled, looking up at the sky. “What about you, Luca? You just gave away your entire empire to the FBI. What are you going to do now?”
Luca stopped on the sidewalk. He looked at me, a genuine, unguarded warmth in his dark eyes.
“I’m going to buy a garage,” Luca said simply. “I like fixing cars. My father hated getting his hands dirty, but Thomas Hayes taught me the value of honest grease on your knuckles when I was ten years old. I think I’d like to build classic engines for a living.”
I laughed, a real, joyful sound. “The mafia boss turning into a grease monkey. The Commission is going to roll over in their graves.”
“Let them,” Luca smiled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver object.
It was a key. But it wasn't the brass carriage house key, and it wasn't a bank key.
“What is that?” I asked.
“It’s the key to an old, run-down auto shop on the edge of town,” Luca said, holding it out to me. “I bought it this morning. Before we came to the bank.”
I looked at the key, then up at him, confused. “Why are you showing me this?”
“Because I need a partner, Olivia,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a soft, sincere timbre. “I know cars, but I don't know how to run a business. And I don't trust anyone in this city the way I trust you. I want you to run the shop with me. 50/50 split.”
My heart skipped a beat. He wasn't asking me to be a maid. He wasn't offering me charity. He was offering me a future, built with our own hands.
Before I could answer, a sleek black town car pulled up to the curb beside us.
The rear window rolled down.
Sitting in the backseat, wearing a sharp new suit and looking healthier than he had in years, was Arthur Bennett.
Luca tensed instantly, his protective instincts flaring as he stepped in front of me.
“I told you to leave the city, Arthur,” Luca warned, his voice hardening.
Arthur held up his hands peacefully. “I’m leaving, son. I’m heading to Florida to live with my sister. I just came to drop something off.”
Arthur reached out of the window and handed Luca a thick, leather-bound envelope.
“What is this?” Luca asked, suspicious.
“It’s the deed to the Moretti Estate,” Arthur smiled softly. “Your father left it in my name to protect it from the government seizures if the Syndicate ever fell. I just signed it over to the city.”
Luca stared at him in shock. “You gave away the mansion?”
May you like
Arthur nodded, looking at me with deep, paternal pride.
“They’re breaking ground tomorrow, Olivia,” Arthur said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “St. Jude’s Children’s Home is relocating. The orphans are going to live in a mansion. I think Thomas would have liked that.”
