Chapter 6 - THE BLOOD ON THE SILVER
The rosary hit the marble with a sharp, metallic clink.
Bruno let go of the coat, backing away and bearing his teeth at the old man.
Dominic froze, his eyes locked on the silver beads on the floor.
He reached down quickly to snatch it up, but Luca was faster.
Luca stepped forward, his heavy dress shoe pinning the rosary to the floor.
“Where did you get this?” Luca’s voice was no longer a shout. It was a terrifying, hollow whisper.
Dominic sneered, though a bead of sweat appeared on his forehead.
“It’s just jewelry, Luca. Move your foot.”
Luca slowly crouched down, keeping his eyes locked on Dominic. He picked up the rosary.
It was beautiful, with a small, intricate silver cross. But the bottom edge of the cross was bent, and a dark, dried stain marred the silver.
“This belonged to my mother,” Luca said, standing up. “She was wearing it the night she was killed in a hit-and-run fifteen years ago. The police never found the driver. They never found this rosary.”
The ballroom fell into a suffocating silence.
Michael gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. “Mom’s rosary?”
“You didn’t just come here for a contract, Dominic,” Luca realized, his voice trembling with a rage so deep it made the room feel cold. “You’ve been holding onto this as a trophy. You killed her.”
Dominic’s arrogant smile finally faded.
“She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was supposed to be your father.”
Luca didn’t hesitate.
In one fluid motion, he pulled a concealed handgun from his jacket and leveled it directly at Dominic’s chest.
Guests screamed. People dropped to the floor.
Dominic’s three men immediately drew their weapons, aiming at Luca.
“Luca, no!” Michael shouted.
“Put it down, boy,” Dominic warned, raising his hands slightly. “You shoot me, my men shoot you, and your little brother dies right after.”
I was standing only a few feet away. My heart hammered so hard I thought it would crack my ribs.
I looked at the men aiming at Luca.
Then I looked at Vanessa.
She was backing toward the service doors, trying to slip away in the chaos.
“She’s leaving!” I yelled, pointing at Vanessa.
Luca didn’t look away from Dominic, but he spoke clearly.
“Emily. Lock the service doors.”
I ran.
I didn’t think about the guns. I didn’t think about my place as a maid. I ran to the heavy oak doors, grabbed the brass bolt, and slammed it into place just as Vanessa reached for the handle.
She turned to me, her face twisted in rage.
“Move, you little rat!” she hissed, raising her hand to slap me.
But I didn’t flinch.
I caught her wrist mid-air.
“You helped poison my mother,” I said, my voice steady, fueled by a sudden, fierce anger. “You aren’t going anywhere.”
I shoved her back toward the center of the room.
Luca kept his gun trained on Dominic.
“Tell your men to drop their weapons, Dominic. Or I swear on my mother’s soul, I will put a bullet through your heart right here.”
Dominic laughed nervously. “You don’t have the stomach for it, Luca. You’re a businessman. Not a killer like your father.”
“Try me.” Luca’s finger tightened on the trigger.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from the hallway outside the main doors.
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing rapidly louder.
Dominic’s eyes darted toward the windows. “The police?”
“I run the legitimate side of this family, Dominic,” Michael said, standing tall despite his illness. “Did you really think I wouldn't have a panic button under this table?”
The heavy front doors burst open, and a dozen armed tactical police officers swarmed the room.
“Drop your weapons! Now!”
Dominic’s men hesitated for a fraction of a second before lowering their guns.
The police tackled them to the floor.
Dominic glared at Luca, hatred burning in his eyes.
“You have the contract,” Dominic spat as an officer cuffed him. “But you don’t have the code. That key is useless without the account number. And only Margaret knows it.”
He smiled at me.
“Your mother is going to die, Emily. And you can’t save her.”
As they dragged Dominic away, the adrenaline left my body.
My knees buckled.
I hit the marble floor, sobbing into my hands.
My mother. My sweet, gentle mother who baked bread and brushed my hair. She was dying because of a twenty-year-old secret.
I felt a warm hand on my shoulder.
I looked up.
Luca was kneeling beside me. The cold, ruthless boss was gone. In his eyes, there was only deep, profound empathy.
“Emily,” Luca said softly.
“He’s right,” I cried. “I don’t know the code. I can’t save her.”
Luca reached into his jacket pocket.
He pulled out a small, folded piece of paper.
Not the investigator’s report.
Something else.
“When my father died,” Luca said quietly, “he left me an envelope. He told me never to open it unless the Rossi family returned.”
He handed the paper to me.
“I opened it this morning.”
I unfolded the paper with shaking hands.
It wasn’t a code.
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It was a photograph.
TITLE: THE GIRL IN THE GARDEN
