Chapter 4 – THE ROSARY IN THE BASEMENT

The child’s drawing fluttered from Luca’s trembling fingers and hit the hardwood floor.

“Leo,” Luca breathed, the name ripping out of his chest like a physical wound.

I stood frozen near the tables. I had worked for the Morettis for two years, and I had never seen a child in their home. I had never even heard the name Leo.

Teresa grabbed the edge of the dining table, her face draining of color.

“They found him,” Teresa whispered, her voice filled with absolute terror. “Oh my God, Luca. Carlo found the boy.”

“Who is Leo?” George asked softly, supporting Teresa by the waist.

Luca didn’t answer. He turned and sprinted toward the kitchen doors.

“Mr. Moretti, wait!” I called out, my heart pounding, but I followed him, unable to stop myself.

We ran through the massive industrial kitchen. The air was thick with smoke from the blown safe in the basement.

Luca burst through the stairwell door and took the concrete steps three at a time. I hurried behind him, coughing as the smoke grew thicker.

When we reached the basement office, the heavy steel door of the vault was blown completely off its hinges. Stacks of ledger papers were scattered everywhere.

But Luca didn’t care about the missing money.

He fell to his knees in front of the destroyed safe.

He reached inside the blackened, smoking metal and pulled out a small, wooden rosary.

It was charred on the edges, but the beads were intact.

Luca pressed the rosary against his forehead, his broad shoulders shaking.

“I promised I’d keep him safe,” Luca sobbed, the powerful Mafia boss entirely broken in the ashes of his father’s restaurant. “I promised her.”

I stepped into the office, my eyes watering from the smoke.

“Luca,” I said softly.

He looked up at me. His eyes were red, filled with a grief so profound it made my chest ache.

“Leo is my son, Hannah,” Luca whispered.

I gasped. “You have a son?”

Luca nodded, clutching the rosary. “He’s six years old. His mother… she was a civilian. A schoolteacher. She died in a car accident when Leo was a baby.”

He stood up, wiping his face with the back of his soot-stained sleeve.

“My father knew this life was too dangerous for a child,” Luca continued, his voice hardening into steel. “Frank sent Leo away to a private boarding school in Upstate New York under a fake name. Only my father, my mother, and Marco knew where he was.”

“Marco sold him out,” I realized, feeling sick to my stomach.

“He didn’t just sell him out,” Luca growled. “Marco used Vanessa to keep me distracted. The engagement, the drama with my mother—it was all smoke and mirrors so Marco could locate Leo and use him as leverage for the Bellini family.”

Luca stormed past me, back up the stairs.

When we re-entered the dining room, Teresa was sitting in a chair, weeping into a napkin while George rubbed her back.

“Mom,” Luca said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion now. It was the voice of a man going to war.

Teresa looked up. “Did they take him, Luca? Did they take my grandson?”

“I don’t know yet,” Luca said. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

He put it on speaker.

The phone rang twice before a woman answered.

“St. Jude’s Academy, Sister Margaret speaking.”

“Margaret, it’s Luca Moretti. Where is Leo?”

There was a long, terrifying pause on the other end of the line.

“Mr. Moretti,” the nun’s voice trembled. “A man came for him twenty minutes ago. He had the family password. He said there was a family emergency and you sent him.”

Luca closed his eyes. “Did the man have a scar over his left eyebrow?”

“Yes, sir.”

Marco.

“Did they leave the grounds?” Luca asked, his voice dead.

“They just pulled out of the gates, sir. A black SUV.”

Luca hung up the phone.

He looked at his mother. “They have him.”

Teresa let out a wail that broke my heart into pieces.

George looked at Luca. “Son, what are we going to do? If you go to the police, the Bellinis will kill the boy.”

“I’m not going to the police,” Luca said. He walked over to the coat closet and pulled out a heavy black leather jacket.

He reached into the lining and pulled out a loaded pistol.

“I’m going to kill Carlo Bellini,” Luca said.

“No!” Teresa cried, standing up. “Luca, if you walk into their compound, it’s a suicide mission! They want you dead!”

“I don’t care about my life, Mom! He’s my son!”

As Luca cocked the gun, a quiet chime echoed from his cell phone.

He looked down at the screen.

It was a text message from an unknown number.

Luca opened it.

His face changed. The anger was replaced by utter confusion.

“What is it?” George asked.

Luca stared at the phone.

“It’s a picture of Leo,” Luca whispered.

“Is he hurt?” Teresa panicked.

“No,” Luca said slowly. “He’s sleeping in the backseat of a car.”

Luca looked up at us, his brow furrowed in absolute bewilderment.

“The text says: ‘I have the boy. If you want him back, come to the address below alone. Do not bring a gun.’”

“Who sent it?” I asked.

Luca turned the phone around so we could see the screen.

“It wasn’t Marco,” Luca said.

I stared at the image on the screen, my heart stopping completely.

Because I recognized the reflection in the car window behind the sleeping little boy.

It was a woman’s face.

“Oh my God,” I breathed, taking a step backward.

Teresa looked at me. “Hannah? Do you know who that is?”

I couldn’t speak. I just pointed at the screen, my hand trembling violently.

“That’s… that’s my mother,” I whispered.