Chapter 7 - THE TICKET
“Antonio?” Luca whispered. The name felt like a ghost in the room.
My head spun. Antonio Moretti had died in a boat explosion ten years ago. I had dusted his memorial plaque in the mansion’s library a hundred times.
Carlo’s face went pale. He hadn’t known about the tickets.
He looked at Vanessa, his gun wavering for a fraction of a second.
“What is this, V? You told me we were leaving together.”
Vanessa was holding her bleeding forehead, looking like a cornered snake.
“Carlo, you idiot, shoot him!” she screamed.
But Carlo was looking at the tickets in Rosa’s hand.
The betrayal in his eyes was absolute.
“Antonio is alive? You’ve been working with his brother this whole time?”
“Shoot them!” Vanessa shrieked.
The distraction was all Luca needed.
He moved with terrifying speed.
He grabbed the heavy brass floor lamp beside him and swung it like a bat.
It smashed into Carlo’s wrist.
The gun fired.
The gunshot was deafening in the small nursery.
I screamed, throwing myself on top of Leo, covering his ears.
The bullet missed us.
It flew past Luca and shattered the massive, antique mirror hanging above the fireplace.
Glass rained down like diamonds.
Carlo dropped the gun, howling in pain as Luca tackled him to the floor.
Two heavy punches, and the giant underboss was unconscious.
Luca stood up, breathing heavily. He straightened his suit jacket.
Vanessa was frozen in terror.
“Don’t move,” Luca told her.
He turned to make sure Leo and I were okay.
I nodded, pulling the trembling boy into my arms.
But Rosa wasn’t looking at us.
She was staring at the shattered mirror.
“Luca,” Rosa whispered.
Behind the broken glass, set deep into the stone of the fireplace, was a hidden steel safe.
Luca frowned. “I’ve lived in this house my whole life. I never knew that was there.”
“Your father built it,” Rosa said, walking slowly toward the fireplace. “He told me about it the night he died. He said if anything ever happened to the family, the truth was behind the glass.”
The safe had a combination dial.
Luca walked over, brushing aside the remaining shards of glass.
“I don’t know the combination.”
Rosa closed her eyes.
“Your mother’s birthday. Try it.”
Luca spun the dial. Click. Click. Click.
He pulled the handle.
The heavy steel door groaned open.
Inside was a stack of yellowed documents, a thick stack of cash, and a single, faded photograph.
Luca reached in and pulled out the photograph.
He stared at it for a long time.
May you like
Then, he looked up at me.
“Emma,” he said, his voice completely broken. “You need to see this.”
