Chapter 7 – THE BRACELET IN THE SAFE

“I have nothing in my office!” Matteo yelled, his panic finally overriding his control. He moved to block the dining room exit. “Neither of you is going anywhere. You are my wife, Sophia. And you are my grandmother.”

“And you are a fool,” Lucia said coldly. “Move, Matteo.”

“No!” He pointed a finger at me. “If you leave this house with those tickets, the commission will find you. You don’t have the protection of my name anymore.”

“I don’t need your name,” I said. “I have the Palermo accounts.”

“You have coordinates on a rosary!” Matteo laughed bitterly. “You don’t even know what they mean!”

I held up the rosary. “They aren’t map coordinates, Matteo. They’re account numbers. And my grandfather’s journal didn’t have the passwords. But your grandmother just realized where they are.”

Matteo froze. He looked at Lucia.

Lucia’s face was stone. “The passwords aren’t written down, Matteo. They were kept by Antonio. And when he died, he left them to the only person he trusted.”

“Me,” Matteo said. “He left the family to me.”

“He left the business to you,” Lucia corrected. “He left his personal safe to me. The one in your office that you’ve spent five years trying to crack.”

Matteo’s jaw dropped. “You know the combination?”

“Of course I know it,” Lucia said. “It’s my birthday.”

Without waiting for his permission, Lucia pushed past him. I followed close behind her, leaving Matteo standing stunned in the dining room.

We walked down the long, dark hallway to Matteo’s private study. He had always forbidden me from entering this room. The heavy oak door was unlocked.

Inside, the room smelled of leather and expensive scotch. Behind a massive mahogany desk was a large painting of the Amalfi coast. Lucia didn’t hesitate. She reached behind the frame and swung it open, revealing a steel wall safe.

She quickly spun the dial. Click.

The heavy metal door swung open.

Inside sat stacks of thick envelopes and velvet boxes. But Lucia ignored the cash. She reached into the very back and pulled out a small, tarnished silver box.

She opened it and pulled out a delicate charm bracelet.

“This was your mother’s,” Lucia said, handing it to me.

My breath caught. I recognized it instantly. My mother had worn it every day until the week my father died. She told me she had lost it.

“Why was this in your husband’s safe?” I asked, tracing the little silver charms.

“Because your father gave it to Antonio as proof that he had secured the accounts,” Lucia explained. “Look at the back of the charms, Sophia.”

I flipped the small silver heart charm over. Engraved into the metal were three letters and four numbers. I checked the next charm. More letters. More numbers.

The passwords.

I had everything. The account numbers on my father’s rosary, and the passwords on my mother’s bracelet.

“You have the power now, Sophia,” Lucia said gently. “You hold the entire financial future of the Moretti and Romano families in the palm of your hand.”

Before I could answer, the study door slammed shut behind us.

Matteo stood there, holding a loaded pistol.

His eyes were completely wild, stripped of any remaining sanity. He aimed the gun directly at my chest.

“Give me the bracelet, Sophia,” he whispered. “Or neither of you is making it to the airport.”