Chapter 5 – THE FIRE IN THE WALLS

“Diamonds?” Luca repeated, staring at the delicate bracelet in my hand.

“Ten uncut stones,” Arthur read from the journal. “Your father bought them as an insurance policy when he opened this place. When the fire happened, he hid them inside the charms of the bracelet your mother left behind, knowing Vincent Bellini would never look twice at a poor dishwasher’s jewelry.”

I stared at the tiny metal shapes.

I was holding a fortune. Enough to pay off my mother’s debt. Enough to save the restaurant.

“We have to go,” Rossi shouted from the doorway.

We all turned.

Smoke was billowing under the office door.

“They circled around to the back!” Rossi yelled over the sudden roar of flames. “They lit the alley! The kitchen is catching!”

Luca grabbed the journal from Arthur and shoved it into his coat.

“Megan, put the bracelet in your pocket. Do not lose it.”

I shoved it deep into my wool coat, zipping the pocket shut.

We bolted out of the office.

The kitchen was a nightmare. The back wall was engulfed in orange flames, the heat blistering our faces. The old grease traps in the fryers were bubbling, threatening to explode.

“Stay low!” Rossi yelled, leading the way.

Arthur coughed violently, stumbling against a stainless steel prep table.

Luca caught him by the arm, throwing the older man’s weight over his shoulder.

“I’ve got you, Arthur. Keep moving!”

We burst through the swinging doors into the dining room.

The front entrance was blocked. The gasoline the men had poured on the front steps had ignited, creating a wall of fire blocking the street.

“The side exit!” Arthur choked out, pointing toward a heavy iron door near the bathrooms.

We ran for it. Rossi slammed his shoulder against the iron, bursting it open into a narrow brick alleyway.

We poured out into the freezing Chicago night air, coughing and gasping for oxygen.

Sirens wailed in the distance.

Luca gently lowered Arthur to the pavement, checking him over.

“Are you alright, Arthur?”

Arthur nodded, soot staining his face. “I’m fine. The restaurant…”

We looked back. The roof of the old Moretti restaurant was already caving in, sparks shooting into the night sky.

Thirty years of history, burning to the ground.

Luca stood up, his jaw set in cold, absolute fury.

He turned to Rossi.

“Call the fire department. Tell them to let the structure burn, but protect the neighboring buildings.”

Rossi nodded, pulling out his phone.

I stood shivering in the alleyway, clutching my coat pocket.

“Mr. Moretti,” I said softly. “The building is gone. What happens now?”

Luca looked at the flames, the fire reflecting in his dark eyes.

“Now,” he said quietly, “we pay Vincent Bellini.”

He held out his hand.

“The bracelet, Megan.”

I unzipped my coat pocket and reached inside.

My fingers felt the lining.

I dug deeper.

I felt nothing.

Panic seized my chest. I ripped the coat off, shaking it frantically in the alleyway.

“Megan?” Luca asked, stepping closer.

I looked up at him, tears of pure terror stinging my eyes.

“It’s gone,” I whispered. “The pocket is ripped. I dropped it in the kitchen.”