Chapter 7 – THE PRIEST WHO HEARD THE CONFESSION
Marco stood in the doorway, the barrel of his pistol pointed squarely at Luca’s chest. The guilt that had been on his face in my apartment was gone, replaced by the desperate, hollow look of a man who had run out of options.
“Marco, put the gun down,” Luca said, his voice deadly calm. He shifted slightly, placing himself between Marco and me.
“I can’t, Boss,” Marco choked out. “Silvio made bail an hour ago. He has my daughters. He said if Vanessa testifies, my girls are dead. I have to kill her. And I have to kill you.”
Vanessa let out a strangled cry, pulling violently against the zip ties holding her to the metal chair. “Marco, please! We were partners! You love me!”
Marco didn’t even look at her. “I love my kids.”
My mind raced. Silvio was out. He had anticipated our move. He was tying up loose ends before the commission meeting.
“Killing us won’t save your daughters, Marco,” I said, stepping out from behind Luca.
Marco’s eyes darted to me. “Shut up, Claire. You don’t know him.”
“I know he’s a liar,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Silvio doesn’t leave witnesses. If you pull that trigger, he’ll kill your daughters anyway because you know too much. You’re the one who dropped Matteo at the docks.”
Marco’s hand shook violently. “I have no choice!”
“You do,” Luca said softly. “You know where he’s holding them. Tell me.”
“It’s a fortress, Luca! You can’t break in!”
“I don’t have to break in,” Luca replied. “I just have to buy them. Silvio only cares about the money. And I hold the keys to the trust.”
Marco hesitated. The gun wavered.
In that split second, Luca moved. He didn’t draw a weapon. He lunged forward, grabbing the barrel of Marco’s gun and twisting it sharply upward.
A silenced shot went into the ceiling.
Luca slammed a fist into Marco’s jaw, dropping him to the concrete floor. Luca pinned him down, pressing his forearm against Marco’s throat.
“Where are they?” Luca roared.
Marco gasped for air. “Saint Jude’s… the old orphanage on 4th street. Silvio uses the basement.”
Luca hauled Marco to his feet. “You’re going to call Silvio. Tell him it’s done. Tell him Vanessa is dead and I’m running.”
Marco swallowed hard and nodded.
Luca turned to his guards. “Keep Vanessa here. If she moves, shoot her.”
He grabbed my arm. “We have to go.”
“To the orphanage?” I asked, my pulse pounding.
“To the commission meeting,” Luca said, his eyes burning with a dark, terrifying resolve. “It’s time to end this.”
An hour later, the sun was just beginning to rise over Chicago. We walked into the back room of a high-end restaurant downtown, the traditional neutral ground for the Moretti family commission.
Six elderly men sat around a long, polished oak table. At the head of the table sat Silvio, looking smug and victorious. He believed Marco had succeeded. He believed he had won.
When the heavy wooden doors swung open and Luca walked in, Silvio’s smug smile instantly vanished. He gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white.
“You,” Silvio breathed. “You’re supposed to be—”
“Dead?” Luca finished, walking straight toward the table. I followed close behind him, clutching my purse. “Sorry to disappoint you, Uncle.”
The oldest man at the table, Don Carmine, slammed his cane against the floor. “Luca! You have been banished. You stand accused of murdering your brother Matteo and stealing the family funds.”
“I have the funds,” Luca said clearly. He tossed a thick ledger onto the table. “The routing numbers were hidden. I secured the money this morning. It’s all there, down to the last penny.”
The commission members lunged for the ledger, flipping through the pages.
“And as for my brother’s murder,” Luca continued, his voice rising in volume. “The man who ordered his death is sitting right there.” He pointed directly at Silvio.
Silvio jumped to his feet. “Lies! He’s trying to save his own skin! I have Vanessa’s testimony!”
“Vanessa is a liar who was sleeping with Marco behind your back,” Luca shot back. “She confessed everything.”
“Where is she, then?” Silvio demanded, a panicked sweat breaking out on his forehead. “Bring her here! Let her speak!”
He knew she wasn’t coming. He thought Marco had killed her.
Luca didn’t flinch. “I don’t need Vanessa.”
Luca turned and looked at me.
I stepped forward. My hands were shaking, but I forced myself to stand tall. I unzipped my purse and pulled out a heavy, bloodstained object.
I placed Matteo’s old, torn coat on the polished table.
The room went dead silent.
“My husband didn’t run away with the money,” I said, my voice echoing in the quiet room. “He was ambushed at the docks. He fought off his attackers and hid the routing numbers to protect this family from a thief.”
Silvio laughed nervously. “A bloody coat proves nothing! It could be anyone’s blood!”
“It’s Matteo’s blood,” a new voice said from the doorway.
Everyone turned.
Standing in the entrance was an old, frail man wearing a white clerical collar. Father Thomas, the priest from the parish near the docks.
Silvio’s face lost all color.
The priest walked slowly to the table. “Three years ago, I heard a commotion near the water. I found a man dying in the alley. He was wearing that coat.”
The priest looked directly into Silvio’s eyes.
“He asked for his final confession,” Father Thomas said softly. “He told me he had secured the money. And he told me the name of the man who stabbed him. He said his uncle, Silvio, held the knife.”
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