Chapter 3 – THE COAT IN THE WARDROBE

The paper landed on the table with a soft thud.

Matteo didn’t even look at it.

He kept his eyes locked on Marco.

“You brought guns into my home during my engagement dinner?”

Marco smirked, adjusting his cuffs.

“It’s not your home anymore, Matteo. My sister is the primary stakeholder of the DeLuca trust now. The judge signed the emergency injunction based on your… declining mental state.”

Vanessa stepped away from the table, moving behind her brother.

Her panic from moments ago vanished, replaced by a cold, triumphant smile.

“You should have just married me, Matteo. It would have been so much easier.”

Eleanor gripped my arm so hard her fingernails dug into my skin.

“They planned this,” the older woman whispered. “They planned to take everything tonight.”

I looked at the twenty-eight guests at the table.

None of them looked surprised. None of them looked afraid.

My stomach dropped.

They weren’t guests.

They were Vanessa’s family’s associates. They had been planted here.

Matteo stood entirely alone in the center of the room.

But he didn’t look afraid.

He looked at his father’s pocket watch, then calmly placed it back in his jacket.

“A judge signed an emergency transfer on a Sunday night?” Matteo asked calmly.

“We have friends in high places,” Marco laughed.

“I know you do,” Matteo replied.

He walked slowly toward the fireplace.

“But you made one miscalculation, Marco.”

Marco narrowed his eyes. “And what’s that?”

“You assume my father’s trust was the only thing protecting this estate.”

Matteo reached up to the mantle.

He grabbed the heavy iron fire poker.

For a second, I thought he was going to swing it at Marco.

Instead, he turned and smashed it violently into the intricate wooden paneling above the fireplace.

Wood splintered and cracked.

Vanessa screamed, covering her face.

Matteo struck it again, harder.

The panel shattered, revealing a dark, hollow cavity behind the wall.

He reached inside and pulled out a heavy, dust-covered wool coat.

It was ancient, moth-eaten, and stained with something dark near the collar.

Marco’s mocking smile vanished instantly.

He took a step back, his hand dropping away from his weapon.

“Where did you get that?” Marco whispered, his voice suddenly hollow.

Matteo shook the dust from the coat.

“You recognize it, don’t you?”

Vanessa stared at the garment in pure horror.

“Marco, what is it? It’s just an old rag.”

“It’s not a rag, Vanessa,” Matteo said softly.

He walked toward them, holding the coat by the shoulders.

“This is the coat your grandfather wore the night he founded your family’s syndicate.”

He dropped the coat onto the pristine dining table.

It landed right on top of the forged eviction notices.

“And inside the lining,” Matteo continued, “is the original ledger. The one your family swore to the Commission was destroyed in 1998.”

Marco’s face turned gray.

In the mafia world, holding another family’s original ledger wasn’t just leverage.

It was a death sentence for whoever lost it.

“If the Commission finds out you let me keep this,” Matteo said, his voice dripping with authority, “they won’t just take this house from you. They will erase your entire bloodline.”

Marco swallowed hard. He looked at the four armed men behind him.

They were already backing toward the door.

“You’re bluffing,” Vanessa shrilled. “There’s no ledger in there!”

Matteo reached into the pocket of the coat.

He pulled out a small, black leather-bound book.

He tossed it to Marco.

Marco caught it clumsily. He opened it, reading the first page.

His hands began to shake violently.

“Tell your men to leave,” Matteo commanded.

Marco didn’t argue. He nodded to the guards.

They vanished into the hallway instantly.

Vanessa grabbed her brother’s arm.

“Marco! What are you doing? We have the judge’s order!”

Marco shoved her hand away.

“Shut up, Vanessa. We’re leaving.”

He looked terrified.

But as Marco turned to go, little Leo stepped out from behind my apron.

The six-year-old pointed at Marco.

“He’s the man from the picture,” Leo said clearly.

Matteo froze.

He looked at the half-burned photograph in his hand. The one with Vanessa holding the watch next to a man with a burned-out face.

Matteo looked at Marco.

“You set the fire at the cottage,” Matteo whispered.

Marco froze in the doorway.

He didn’t deny it. He just stared at the little boy.

And then, Marco smiled.

“You should have checked the basement of the cottage before you brought the brat here, Matteo.”

He stepped backward into the hall.

“Because we didn’t just burn a house. We locked someone inside it tonight.”

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