Chapter 3 - THE SECRET BURIED IN THE CONCRETE
“I need you to come to the garage with me right now. Before whoever helped Vanessa comes back to finish the job.”
The gravity in Luca’s voice sent a chill down my spine.
I nodded, ignoring the sting in my bandaged hand.
We slipped out the back door into the cool Chicago night.
The engagement guests were whispering in the main house, but out here, the air was still.
The old detached garage sat at the edge of the property, partially hidden by ancient oak trees.
Marco stood guard at the double doors.
“Nobody goes in or out,” Luca told him.
“Got it, Boss.”
Luca unlocked the side door and turned on the single overhead bulb.
The space was hollowed out.
It broke my heart.
The pegboards were stripped bare. The heavy wrenches, the brass hammers, the antique drills—everything Matteo and Luca used every Saturday was gone.
Vanessa had sold Antonio’s legacy for loose cash.
But the heavy oak workbench was still bolted to the wall.
“Where did Matteo say he pulled the loose wood from?” Luca asked.
“Underneath,” I said. “On the far left side.”
Luca knelt in the sawdust.
He reached under the bottom shelf of the workbench, probing the empty space where his son had removed the broken board.
I heard a sharp click.
Luca pulled back.
The concrete floor directly beneath the bench shifted.
It wasn't a solid slab. It was a perfectly cut stone trapdoor, covered in a thin layer of dust.
Luca wedged his fingers into the seam and heaved.
The heavy stone lifted, revealing a dark, square cavity in the earth.
Inside lay a rusted metal lockbox.
Luca lifted it out and set it on the workbench.
It had a small, silver keyhole.
He took the key his father had given him nine years ago.
It slid in perfectly.
He turned it.
The lock snapped open with a heavy echo.
Luca opened the lid.
I expected cash. I expected diamonds. I expected a mafia ledger.
But there was only one thing inside.
A faded, leather-bound journal.
Luca opened it to the first page.
His breath hitched.
I stepped closer.
The handwriting was elegant, written in faded blue ink.
“If you are reading this, Luca, it means the Bellini family has finally made their move. Do not marry Vanessa. She is not who you think she is. And the boy is not safe.”
Luca stared at the words.
His father had written this nine years ago.
Before Matteo was even born.
“How did he know?” Luca whispered. “How did Dad know about Vanessa nine years ago?”
I looked at the next line on the page.
My heart stopped.
“You must find the Dawson girl. She is the only one who can unlock the rest.”
Luca’s head snapped toward me.
“Dawson,” he said slowly.
My last name.
“Claire,” Luca’s voice hardened. “Why is your name in my dead father’s journal?”
I backed away from the workbench.
“I don’t know,” I stammered. “I swear. I didn’t even know your father.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not! I took this job off a Craigslist ad a year ago!”
Luca stared at my terrified face.
He looked back at the journal.
He flipped the page.
A small object fell out and clattered onto the wooden bench.
It was a tarnished silver locket.
I couldn't breathe.
I reached into my own shirt and pulled out the silver chain I’d worn around my neck since I was a child.
At the end of my chain was the exact same locket.
Luca looked at my necklace, then at the one on the table.
Before either of us could speak, Marco banged on the garage door.
“Boss!” Marco yelled.
Luca shoved the journal and the locket into his jacket pocket. He threw the door open.
“What is it?”
May you like
Marco looked panicked.
“It’s Matteo. His bedroom window is smashed. He’s gone.”
