Chapter 3 – The Black Rosary

The word hung in the air like a physical weight.

The rosary.

My mind flashed back to the hospital room ten years ago. The beeping monitors. My mother, battered and bruised from the crash, holding my hand with her last ounce of strength. She had pressed her heavy, black wooden rosary into my palms. “Never lose this, Katie. Keep it safe. Keep it in the family.”

I had thought it was just a mother’s dying blessing.

“I don’t have it,” I lied, my voice shaking. “I buried her with it.”

Sofia’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t lie to me, waitress. Nathan searched your jewelry box. He searched the attic. The only place left is wherever you keep your most precious things.”

“Sofia, put the knife down,” Luca said, his voice dropping an octave. He unbuttoned his suit jacket. Two of his men immediately mirrored his movement, their hands hovering near their waistbands.

Sofia sneered. “You’re weak, Luca. You’ve always been weak. You want to run this family like a legitimate business. You want to pay taxes and play golf. Dad would be disgusted.”

She snapped her fingers.

Instantly, six of the guests at the table—men I had assumed were Luca’s friends or business partners—drew heavy black handguns from inside their jackets and leveled them at Luca and his guards.

The dining room erupted into chaos. Waiters dropped trays of champagne, scrambling for the exits. Women screamed and dove under the tables.

I pulled Benjamin to the floor, covering his small body with mine behind a heavy oak serving cart.

“Mommy,” Benjamin whimpered, his face buried in my neck. “Are they going to shoot us?”

“No, baby. I promise. I won’t let them,” I whispered, though tears were streaming down my face.

I peeked around the wheel of the cart. Luca hadn’t moved. He was completely surrounded by his sister’s loyalists, guns pointed at his chest.

“Take his weapons,” Sofia ordered.

One of the men stepped forward and pulled a sleek pistol from Luca’s shoulder holster. Luca didn’t resist. He just looked at his sister with profound sadness.

“You’re dividing the family for money, Sofia. It never ends well.”

“It ends with me in charge,” she replied coldly. She turned her attention back to the serving cart. “Katherine. Bring the boy and stand up.”

I didn’t move. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for a miracle.

“I said stand up!” Sofia screamed, firing a single shot into the ceiling.

Plaster rained down. Benjamin shrieked.

I had no choice. Trembling, keeping Benjamin behind my back, I slowly stood up.

Sofia walked toward me, the gun now leveled perfectly at my chest. “Where is the rosary?”

“I don’t have it on me,” I cried. “It’s at the house! Let my son go, and I will take you to it!”

“Liar,” Sofia hissed. “Nathan said you never take it off.”

“I took it off to bake his cake!” I yelled, gesturing to the chocolate cake still sitting on the table, the candles completely melted into puddles of yellow wax. “Please, he’s just a little boy!”

Sofia stared at me. Then, her eyes shifted to Benjamin, who was peering terrified from behind my waist.

“Search the boy,” Sofia commanded one of her men.

“No!” I screamed, throwing my arms out to block them.

The man grabbed my shoulder, throwing me violently to the side. I hit the hardwood floor hard, my shoulder exploding in pain.

“Mom!” Benjamin screamed.

The man grabbed Benjamin by his jacket collar.

“Stop! Don’t touch him!” Luca roared, lunging forward, but two men slammed the butts of their rifles into Luca’s ribs, dropping him to his knees.

Benjamin was crying hysterically as the man patted down his pockets.

“Nothing in the jacket,” the man grunted. He grabbed Benjamin’s small Marvel backpack that we had brought for his overnight things. He unzipped it and dumped the contents onto the floor.

Crayons, a Nintendo Switch, a stuffed bear, and a small velvet pouch spilled out.

The man picked up the pouch. He loosened the drawstrings and dumped it into his massive palm.

A heavy, black wooden rosary fell out, the silver crucifix gleaming under the chandelier lights.

Sofia smiled. It was a terrifying, triumphant smile. “Bring it to me.”

The man handed it to her. She held it up by the chain, admiring it.

“Three million dollars,” she whispered. “Hiding in a child’s toy bag.”

She gripped the large central bead just above the crucifix. With a sharp twist, the wood cracked in half. The bead was hollow.

Sofia tipped it over into her palm.

A tiny, silver key dropped into her hand.

Sofia laughed. “The safety deposit box. I knew it.” She looked down at Nathan, who was still bleeding on the floor. “You actually did something right, Nathan.”

She turned to her men. “Tie Luca up in the kitchen. Kill the husband. And bring the woman and the boy to the cars. We’re going to the bank.”