Chapter 5 - THE ROSARY
Screams erupted from the dinner guests. Chairs scraped violently against the floor as wealthy men and women scrambled away from the doors, hiding beneath the long table.
Luca didn’t run. He stepped directly in front of Michael, shielding his younger brother with his own body.
“Get out of my house,” Luca commanded the two men. His voice was a low, terrifying rumble.
The lead man hesitated. He was hired muscle, but nobody in Chicago messed with Luca Moretti lightly. He glanced over Luca’s shoulder at Vanessa.
“Mrs. Bellini paid us for a pickup,” the man grunted. “We don’t leave without the kid.”
“Mrs. Bellini doesn’t run this house,” Luca said, taking a slow step toward the armed men. “And she no longer has a dime to pay you with. The accounts are frozen as of this moment.”
Vanessa shrieked. “Luca, you can’t do that! The merger is already signed!”
“The merger is void due to fraud,” a voice called out.
Everyone froze. It was Carlo Vitale. The Italian businessman stepped forward, adjusting his tailored cuffs. He looked completely unbothered by the armed thugs at the door.
Carlo spoke in rapid Italian, looking directly at me.
I took a deep breath, clutching the edges of my wine-stained apron.
“Mr. Vitale says the Bellini family debt doesn’t belong to the bank anymore,” I translated loudly, making sure every guest heard. “He says he bought Vanessa’s debt two days ago. The Bellini family owes forty million dollars to the Vitale syndicate in Rome.”
Richard Bellini’s knees gave out. He collapsed into a dining chair, gasping for air.
Vanessa stared at Carlo in pure horror. “You… you bought our debt? But you’re supposed to be our partner!”
Carlo smiled coldly and spoke again.
“He says he doesn't partner with people who burn down restaurants,” I translated.
I looked at Carlo, feeling a strange sense of awe. He hadn’t come to Chicago to buy a plot of land. He had come to avenge a forty-year-old crime.
Carlo reached into his pocket and pulled out a string of wooden rosary beads. They were dark, polished by years of use, and smelled faintly of incense and smoke. He held them up so Richard could see them.
Richard whimpered, shielding his face.
“My uncle was the cook who died in that fire, Richard,” Carlo said in perfect, unaccented English.
The room went dead silent. Even the two thugs at the door lowered their hands.
Carlo turned to Luca. “Your father and my uncle were best friends. When Richard burned the place down for the insurance money, he didn't just kill a business. He killed my family.”
Luca stared at the rosary, then at the man who had played Vanessa perfectly.
“You used her greed to trap her,” Luca said.
Carlo nodded. “I let her believe I wanted the land. I let her commit wire fraud across international lines to secure the deal. The FBI is outside right now, Luca. They aren’t here for you. They’re here for the Bellinis.”
As if on cue, the wail of police sirens echoed through the tall windows of the mansion. Red and blue lights began flashing across the manicured lawns.
Vanessa let out a guttural scream. She lunged at Carlo, her manicured nails aimed for his face.
But she never reached him.
The two thugs she had hired grabbed her by the arms, dragging her back.
“Sorry, lady,” the lead man grunted. “We ain’t going to federal prison for a bankrupt bride.”
They shoved Vanessa toward the doors just as a team of federal agents rushed into the hallway. Within seconds, handcuffs clicked around Richard Bellini’s wrists.
Vanessa fought, kicking and screaming obscenities as they dragged her away. “Luca! Luca, you have to help me! We’re family!”
Luca stood motionless as they hauled her out of the room. “We were never family.”
The doors remained open. The flashing lights painted the room in harsh colors. The dinner guests slowly began to emerge from hiding, whispering frantically as they gathered their coats to flee the scandal of the decade.
I stood by the banquet table, my hands still shaking. It was over. The bad guys were caught. Michael was safe.
I looked down at the spilled wine on the floor. I still needed to clean it up.
I grabbed a napkin and knelt down.
“Emily.”
Luca’s voice stopped me.
I looked up. He was standing right above me, looking down at my stained uniform.
“Leave it,” he said softly.
“But sir, it will stain the hardwood—”
“I don’t care about the hardwood, Emily,” he said, offering me his hand.
I hesitated, then placed my hand in his. He gently pulled me to my feet. His tattooed hands were incredibly warm.
“Thank you,” he said, his dark eyes searching my face. “If you hadn't spoken up... if you hadn't translated, I would have lost my brother tonight.”
I swallowed hard. “I just couldn't let her do it, sir.”
Michael stepped forward, wiping his eyes. He looked lighter, as if a ten-ton weight had been lifted off his chest. “Emily. I owe you my life. Mia owes you her father.”
I smiled at him, tears welling in my own eyes. “Go see your daughter, Michael.”
Michael nodded, pulling Luca into a fierce hug before jogging out of the dining room.
The room was nearly empty now. Just me, Luca, and Carlo Vitale.
Carlo walked over to the table and picked up the small leather ledger Vanessa had left behind. He flipped to the back page and frowned.
He spoke to Luca in English. “There’s one thing I don’t understand, Moretti. Vanessa’s notes here show she transferred a massive sum of money to a private bank account yesterday to finalize the deed transfer. But the account doesn't belong to my syndicate.”
Luca frowned. “Whose account is it?”
May you like
Carlo turned the book around and pointed to a name written in the margins.
It was my mother’s name.
