THE MOTHER’S GOWN

I stood frozen in the cedar room.

Luca didn’t look angry. He looked terrified.

It was the first time I had ever seen fear in the eyes of the man who ran Chicago.

“It was inside the hem of the veil,” I stammered, stepping back.

Luca dropped his suit jacket.

He walked over, bent down, and picked up the parchment.

His eyes scanned the faded Italian words. His jaw tightened so hard I thought it might shatter.

He read it twice.

Then, he slowly folded it in half.

“Did you read this?” he asked quietly, not looking up.

“I tried,” I whispered. “My Italian isn't great. I only understood a few lines.”

Luca finally looked at me.

The pain in his dark eyes was overwhelming. It was the look of a little boy who had just watched his entire world crumble.

“She killed him,” Luca choked out, his voice cracking.

He leaned against the new oak chest, covering his mouth with his hand.

I closed the distance between us immediately. I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my face against his chest.

He hugged me back fiercely, burying his face in my hair, taking shaky, uneven breaths.

“Luca, I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

“My father didn't drown my sister,” Luca said, his voice muffled against me.

I pulled back slightly, looking up at him in confusion.

“What do you mean? The letter says—”

“I know what the letter says,” Luca interrupted bitterly. “My mother believed he did it. Because she found him by the lake, holding Sofia’s body.”

He took a deep breath, forcing the agonizing memories to the surface.

“But my father didn't kill her. I was ten years old. I saw what happened from my bedroom window.”

My heart shattered.

“Sofia fell,” Luca whispered, tears finally spilling over his dark lashes. “She was trying to catch a bird on the dock. She slipped. She hit her head on the stone. By the time my father ran out and pulled her from the water, she was gone.”

He looked down at the letter in his hand.

“My mother was inside. She only saw the aftermath. She refused to believe it was an accident. She went mad with grief. She blamed him. And three months later, he died in his sleep.”

The sheer, catastrophic tragedy of it took my breath away.

His mother had murdered her husband over a misunderstanding borne of absolute grief. And Luca had carried the truth of that night in silence for almost thirty years.

“If the Commission sees this letter,” Luca said, his voice hardening into the tone of a boss again, “they will posthumously brand my mother a traitor. They will erase her name from our history. They will say my bloodline is tainted with madness and betrayal.”

He looked at the fireplace in the corner of the room.

He walked over to it.

He struck a match.

“No, wait!”

A voice shouted from the doorway.

We both spun around.

Standing there, breathing heavily, was Don Carmine.

The old captain was leaning heavily on his cane, flanked by two of Luca’s own security guards who looked terrified.

“Put the letter down, Luca,” Carmine rumbled.

Luca didn't flinch. He held the match inches from the paper.

“You are in my private wing, Carmine,” Luca warned, his voice deadly quiet. “You have five seconds to leave before I have you thrown out.”

“I’m not leaving,” Carmine said, stepping into the room. “Victor Rossi sent a message to the Commission this morning. From hiding. He claimed your mother confessed to killing your father before she died. He said the proof was hidden in her wedding items.”

Carmine pointed a wrinkled finger at the parchment in Luca’s hand.

“If you burn that paper, the Commission will assume Rossi is right. They will vote to remove you from power tonight.”

A reversal.

Rossi hadn't just wanted the rosary to save himself. He knew about the letter. He had planted a time bomb inside the Moretti family before he fled.

“Hand it over, Luca,” Carmine demanded. “Let the council read it.”

Luca looked at the letter. Then he looked at the match.

If he burned it, he lost his empire.

If he handed it over, he destroyed his mother’s legacy.

He was trapped.

Then, I stepped forward.

“He can't give it to you, Don Carmine,” I said loudly.

Both men looked at me in shock.