Chapter 9 – The Unmarked Box

The grand foyer of the Moretti estate was quiet as the heavy oak front door swung open.

Marco, the head of security, stood on the threshold. He wasn’t holding a weapon, but his face was grim. In his hands, he carried a square, unmarked cardboard box.

“This was left at the front gate, Boss,” Marco said, looking at Luca. “No courier. No return address. The cameras were jammed for three minutes.”

The warm, celebratory mood in the house evaporated instantly.

Luca stepped in front of me instinctively. Vincenzo stood up from the sunroom sofa, his instincts from twenty years of war flaring back to life.

“Put it on the table,” Luca ordered. “Check it for explosives.”

Marco ran a scanner over the box. It beeped twice, indicating no chemical or explosive signatures.

Luca pulled a knife from his pocket, cut the tape, and opened the flaps.

Inside the box was a single object resting on a bed of black velvet.

It was a small, intricately carved wooden chess piece. A black knight.

Vincenzo walked over, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the piece. He picked it up with a gloved hand.

“What is it, Dad?” Luca asked.

“It’s a calling card,” Vincenzo said, his voice heavy with a dark history I didn’t understand. “From the Commission.”

“The Commission?” I asked, looking at Luca.

Luca’s jaw tightened. “The five families in New York. They oversee all syndicate operations on the East Coast. We’ve had a truce with them for thirty years.”

“They know I’m alive,” Vincenzo said, turning the knight over in his hand. Carved into the bottom was a date: Tomorrow.

“They want a meeting,” Luca said. “Why now? The Bellinis are gone. The Chicago territory is ours and we’ve transitioned to legitimate businesses. We aren’t a threat.”

“That’s exactly why,” Vincenzo said, looking at his son. “You handed the syndicate over to a trust. You stepped away from the underworld. New York doesn’t like loose ends. They don’t believe you’re truly out. And they certainly don’t like that a Don who faked his death has suddenly resurrected.”

Teresa walked into the room, her face pale. “Vincenzo, you can’t go to New York. It’s a trap.”

“I have to,” Vincenzo said. “If I ignore the summons, they will send a hit squad to this house. They will kill Emily. They will kill Arthur. They will burn this place to the ground.”

“I’m going with you,” Luca said instantly.

Vincenzo shook his head. “No. You are the legitimate face of this family now, Luca. You have a fiancé. You have a future. I’m an old ghost. This is my mess.”

“I am the Don of Chicago,” Luca said, his voice echoing with absolute authority. “I step down when I say I step down. We go together.”

That night, the house was a fortress. Guards patrolled the grounds with rifles.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, twisting the new diamond ring on my finger. Luca walked into the room, fresh from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. He looked exhausted.

He sat on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands.

I sat up and wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders. “Luca. You don’t have to do this. We can run. We can take my dad, your parents, Sam, and disappear.”

“You can’t run from the Commission, Emily,” Luca whispered, turning to look at me. “They own the ports, the judges, the politicians. If we run, we spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders.”

He reached out and touched my cheek. “I promise you, I will end this tomorrow. I will secure our freedom.”

“How?” I asked, my voice trembling.

Luca stood up, walking over to the safe hidden behind a painting on the wall. He opened it and pulled out a thick leather binder.

“Because twenty years ago, my father didn’t just hide himself,” Luca said. “He hid the names of every corrupt politician on the Commission’s payroll. It’s the ultimate insurance policy. Tomorrow, I’m trading it for our lives.”

He put the binder on the dresser.

But as he turned away, a piece of paper slipped from the back of the binder and fluttered to the floor.

I got out of bed and picked it up.

It was a birth certificate. But it wasn’t Luca’s.

It had my brother’s name on it. Samuel Parker.

But the parents listed weren’t Arthur and Mary Parker.

The father listed was Vincenzo Moretti.