“GET ON YOUR KNEES AND CLEAN IT UP,” THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE ORDERED AFTER POURING RED WINE OVER MY UNIFORM IN FRONT OF THIRTY DINNER GUESTS. BUT WHEN I REFUSED TO PICK UP THE BROKEN GLASS, SHE SAID, “TELL LUCA WHAT YOU DID TO HIS LITTLE SISTER.” THE MAFIA BOSS PUT DOWN HIS FORK—BECAUSE HIS SISTER HADN’T SPOKEN TO HIM IN THREE YEARS.

Chapter 5 – THE GHOST IN THE INTERCOM

The hiss of gas started almost immediately.

It was a soft, terrifying sound coming from the brass vents near the floorboards. The sharp, rotten-egg smell of natural gas flooded the dusty library.

I backed away, covering my mouth with my wine-stained apron. Panic seized my chest.

“Uncle Carmine?” Luca yelled at the intercom, his voice booming with fury. “You’re alive? You faked your death?”

A dry, scratching laugh echoed from the speaker above.

“I had to, Luca,” the old man said calmly. “Your father left me the keys to the kingdom, but you were too arrogant to step aside. So Marcus and I made a deal. I disappear, Marcus takes my place beside you, and we drain the accounts dry while you play the grieving son.”

Luca slammed his fist against the steel door. “You sent the men after Sofia at the orphanage!”

“She was a loose end,” Carmine sighed. “She found the ledger. She figured out I was alive. I told Marcus to handle her, but he was always soft when it came to women. He put her on a train instead of putting her in the ground. When I found out she was hiding at that orphanage with my bastard grand-nephew, I had to fix Marcus’s mistake.”

“Where is she, Carmine?!” Luca roared.

“Dead, Luca. Just like you’re about to be.”

The intercom clicked off.

The hissing of the gas grew louder.

I dropped to my knees, coughing as the fumes began to burn my eyes and throat. “Mr. Moretti… we can’t breathe in here.”

Luca didn’t panic. The mafia boss who had been falling apart over his sister suddenly vanished, replaced by the lethal, calculating survivor who ruled Chicago.

He looked around the room, assessing the heavy brick walls and the reinforced door.

He ran to the center table and grabbed the heavy wooden chair. He smashed it against the brick wall until one of the wooden legs snapped off, leaving a sharp, jagged edge.

“Emma, give me your apron,” he commanded.

I quickly untied it and handed it to him.

He wrapped the thick white cloth around his hand and forearm.

“Get behind the desk and cover your ears!” he shouted.

I scrambled behind the heavy mahogany reading desk, burying my face in my knees.

Luca didn’t attack the door. He walked over to the brass gas vent near the floor. He jammed the broken, jagged chair leg directly into the vent’s opening, twisting it violently to block the airflow.

Then, he pulled out his heavy black pistol.

He didn’t shoot the door lock. He aimed the gun straight up at the ceiling above the door frame.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The gunshots were deafening in the enclosed space.

He was shooting the exposed hinges of the heavy door. The metal shrieked and warped under the force of the bullets.

Luca took three steps back. He lowered his shoulder, let out a massive yell, and threw his entire body weight against the door.

The damaged hinges gave way.

The heavy steel door crashed outward into the hallway with a deafening thud.

Fresh air flooded into the room.

I gasped, crawling out from behind the desk, coughing violently. Luca reached down, grabbed me by the arm, and pulled me out into the hallway.

“Breathe,” he ordered, his own chest heaving.

We stumbled up the servant’s stairs and burst into the main hallway of the mansion.

The house was chaotic. Luca’s guards were running through the halls, weapons drawn, having heard the gunshots.

“Where is he?!” Luca grabbed his head of security by the collar. “My uncle! He was just on the intercom!”

The guard looked terrified. “Boss, we didn’t see anyone! But a black sedan just crashed through the back gate. It headed toward the city!”

Luca released him, his eyes burning with rage.

He looked down at me. I was shaking, covered in dust, still gasping for clean air.

“Stay here,” Luca said gently. “My men will keep you safe.”

“No,” I croaked, grabbing his sleeve. “Sir, he said Sofia was dead. But he didn’t sound sure. If he had her, he would have used her to leverage you. He’s lying. She’s still running.”

Luca stared at me. He realized I was right.

“Volume 44,” I said quickly. “Carmine took the book to destroy whatever Sofia hid inside it. But what if he didn’t know what he was looking for?”

Luca frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Sofia loved to draw,” I explained, my mind racing. “She used to hide her charcoal sketches between the pages of those encyclopedias. If Carmine just flipped through it to make sure the ledger wasn’t there, he might have missed a drawing.”

I turned and ran toward the grand staircase.

“Where are you going?” Luca yelled, following me.

“To Marcus!” I shouted back.

We ran down into the holding cells in the mansion’s sub-basement. Marcus was sitting on a cot, his face bruised and bleeding. Vanessa was in the cell next to him, curled into a ball on the floor.

I walked right up to the iron bars of Marcus’s cell.

“Did Carmine show you the blue book he took from the library?” I demanded.

Marcus looked at me, then at Luca, laughing weakly. “You survived the gas. Good for you.”

Luca drew his gun and pressed the barrel directly against Marcus’s kneecap through the bars.

“Answer her,” Luca whispered.

Marcus flinched. “Yes! He showed it to me an hour ago! He was furious. He thought the ledger was inside, but it was just a stupid drawing of a church.”

My heart soared.

“What did he do with the drawing?” I asked.

“He crumpled it up and threw it in the trash can in the foyer before he went down to trap you!”

Luca didn’t wait. He sprinted back up the stairs. I followed closely behind.

We reached the grand foyer. Luca dug through the small, ornate trash bin near the front doors.

He pulled out a crumpled piece of heavy sketch paper.

He flattened it out on the marble table.

It was a beautiful, detailed charcoal drawing of a massive, gothic cathedral.

But it wasn’t just a random church.

At the bottom of the sketch, written in Sofia’s handwriting, were the words:

Where the time stops.

Luca stared at the drawing, his breath hitching.

“Emma,” Luca said, his voice filled with awe. “I know exactly where this is. It’s the old clocktower cathedral in the South Side. The clock hasn’t worked since 1999.”

He looked at me, his dark eyes blazing with hope.

“She’s waiting for us.”

Next Part: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

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