Chapter 3 - THE SCARRED BROTHER RETURNS FROM EXILE
The dining room erupted.
Security guards drew their weapons, surrounding the table, their guns trained on the man in the doorway.
“Stand down!” Luca roared.
The guards hesitated, then lowered their weapons, though they didn't holster them.
Rosa clutched her chest, leaning heavily against the table. “Victor? You’re supposed to be in Sicily.”
“I was, Mother,” Victor smiled, stepping into the dining room. “But I heard my little brother was getting married. I couldn't miss the celebration.”
Victor Moretti had been exiled five years ago after a failed coup against his own father. Everyone in the house knew the story. If he was back in Chicago, it meant war.
But Victor didn't draw a weapon. He simply walked toward the table, his eyes locked on Vanessa, who was still kneeling on the floor, trembling violently.
“You look surprised to see me, Vanessa,” Victor sneered.
“You told me you wouldn't come back until it was done,” Vanessa whispered, tears streaming down her face.
Luca’s grip on his gun tightened.
“Until what was done?” Luca demanded.
Victor stopped a few feet from Luca. He looked at the fake passport in Luca’s hand.
“Until she secured the girl,” Victor said calmly.
The air left the room.
I looked at Sophie. She was hiding behind her grandmother, staring at the scarred man with wide, terrified eyes.
“You hired her,” Luca realized, the puzzle pieces finally snapping together in a horrifying picture.
“I didn't hire her, Luca. I bought her debt,” Victor corrected smoothly. “Vanessa owes a very large sum of money to some very unpleasant people in Las Vegas. I offered to pay it off.”
Victor looked down at Vanessa.
“In exchange, she was supposed to marry you, inherit the estate upon your untimely demise, and deliver the girl to me.”
“You were going to kill him?” Rosa gasped, her voice breaking.
“Business is business, Mother,” Victor said casually.
“You son of a bitch,” Luca growled, raising the gun until it was inches from Victor’s face.
Victor didn't flinch.
“Shoot me, Luca,” Victor challenged softly. “But if I die tonight, my men have orders to burn this house to the ground with everyone inside. Including your daughter.”
Luca stared into his brother’s eyes. The resemblance was striking, but where Luca’s eyes held a fierce protective fire, Victor’s were entirely dead.
Slowly, agonizingly, Luca lowered his weapon.
“What do you want, Victor?”
“I want what’s mine,” Victor said. “I want the Chicago syndicate. And I want the offshore accounts our father hid before he died.”
Victor pointed to the fake passport in Luca’s hand.
“But since Vanessa failed to get the girl, I suppose we’ll have to do this the hard way.”
Victor snapped his fingers.
Two massive men stepped out of the shadows of the hallway. They weren't Luca’s guards. They were heavily armed mercenaries.
“Nobody moves,” Victor ordered the room.
He turned to Vanessa.
“Get up.”
Vanessa scrambled to her feet, wiping her face. “Victor, please, I can still help you! I know the security codes to the downtown vault!”
“You’re useless to me now,” Victor said coldly.
He looked at his mercenaries. “Take her to the cars.”
“No!” Vanessa screamed as the men grabbed her arms. “Luca, help me! He’ll kill me!”
Luca didn't move. He watched her with absolute, terrifying indifference.
“You made your bed, Vanessa,” Luca said softly.
As they dragged a hysterical Vanessa out of the dining room, Victor turned his attention back to Luca.
“I’m taking the girl, Luca,” Victor said.
“Over my dead body,” Luca snarled, stepping in front of Sophie and Rosa.
“That’s the idea,” Victor smiled.
He raised a hand, signaling to his men outside.
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the dining room slammed shut.
The lights flickered, then died completely.
The mansion plunged into total darkness.
Screams erupted from the guests. Glass shattered. The sound of a scuffle echoed near the hallway.
“Dad!” Sophie shrieked in the dark.
“I’m here, baby!” Luca yelled.
I was standing near the wall, completely blinded. My heart hammered against my ribs. I reached out in the dark, my hands brushing against the velvet wallpaper.
“Emma!” Rosa’s voice cried out from the table.
I moved toward the sound, stumbling over a knocked-over chair.
“Mrs. Moretti, I’m here!” I grabbed her arm in the dark.
“Where is Sophie?!” Rosa panicked.
I reached out, feeling for the little girl who had been standing right next to her grandmother seconds ago.
My hands found empty air.
“Sophie?” I called out.
No answer.
Suddenly, the emergency backup lights flickered on, casting a dim, red glow over the ruined dining room.
Guards were on the floor, groaning. Guests were cowering under tables.
Luca was standing in the center of the room, breathing heavily, his gun raised.
He looked at Rosa. Then at me.
His face drained of all color.
“Where is she?” Luca whispered.
I looked around frantically.
Sophie was gone.
And Victor was gone with her.
But lying on the floor, exactly where Sophie had been standing, was a heavy, tarnished silver rosary.
Rosa gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.
Luca stared at the rosary.
“Answer one,” Luca breathed, picking up the silver beads. “Victor took her.”
He looked at his mother.
“But that opens two new questions.”
Luca held the rosary up in the red emergency light.
“This is my father’s rosary,” Luca said, his voice trembling with a rage that shook the floorboards. “The one he was buried with.”
Luca looked at Rosa.
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TITLE: THE ROSARY FROM THE GRAVE
