Chapter 9 – THE NECKLACE OF CRUEL LIES

The cathedral was completely silent, save for Gianna’s soft weeping near the entrance.

I stared at Luca, my hand trembling so badly the diamonds in the necklace clinked against each other.

“My… my mother?” I stammered, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. “Mr. Moretti, my mother is a retired school teacher. She lives in a rent-controlled apartment. She’s sick. She doesn’t own diamonds.”

Luca took the necklace from my shaking fingers. He turned it over. Engraved on the back of the platinum clasp was a small, elegant C.

Answer one: The mastermind who initially paid Daniel to abandon Gianna wasn’t Vanessa or Marco. It was someone connected to the letter C.

Open two: How could my sweet, frail mother be involved in a mafia conspiracy?

“Emma,” Luca said, his voice terrifyingly gentle. “What is your mother’s maiden name?”

“Collins,” I whispered. “Mary Collins.”

Luca closed his eyes, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “Your mother’s name isn’t Mary Collins, Emma. It’s Maria Costello.”

My heart stopped.

Costello. The Costello family was the rival syndicate in Chicago. They were the ones who had warred with Luca’s father decades ago.

“No,” I backed away, shaking my head violently. “No, you’re lying. My mother is a good person! She’s sick! We can barely afford her medical bills!”

A brutal reversal shattered my reality.

“She’s not sick, Emma,” Luca said softly. “The medical bills you’ve been paying? The ‘treatments’ she needs? It’s extortion money. She’s been paying the Commission to keep them from hunting you down.”

My knees buckled. Luca caught my arm, keeping me from hitting the stone floor.

Escalation: My entire life was a lie. I wasn’t just a poor maid struggling to survive. I was the hidden daughter of a rival mafia family, placed in the Moretti mansion not by coincidence, but by design.

“Your mother paid Daniel to leave Gianna because she wanted to destabilize my family,” Luca explained, his eyes filled with sorrow for my shattered innocence. “She knew Gianna was the weak link. She wanted my sister desperate, so Gianna would make a mistake and expose Marco’s crimes to the Commission. Your mother wanted the Morettis to destroy themselves from the inside.”

“And I was just… what?” I cried, tears blinding me. “A spy? I didn’t know anything! I was just cleaning your house!”

“Your mother put you in my house to protect you,” Luca said. “The Commission doesn’t touch the Moretti estate. It was the only safe place for a Costello heir.”

I ripped my arm away from his grip. I felt sick. Every struggle, every extra shift, every tear I shed over my mother’s “illness”—it was all a manipulated lie to hide me from a mob war.

“I have to go,” I choked out, turning toward the door. “I have to confront her.”

“Emma, wait!” Luca called out.

But I didn’t stop. I ran past Gianna, Daniel, and little Leo. I pushed through the heavy wooden doors of the cathedral and sprinted into the cold Chicago night.

I didn’t care about the danger. I flagged down a passing taxi and gave the driver the address to my run-down apartment complex.

When I burst through the door of our tiny apartment, the lights were on.

My mother was sitting at the small kitchen table, sipping tea. She looked exactly as she always did—frail, gray-haired, wearing a worn cardigan.

But resting on the table in front of her was a silenced pistol.

“Emma,” she said calmly, not looking surprised to see me covered in soot and blood. “You’re home early.”

I stared at the gun. Then I pulled the diamond necklace from my pocket and threw it onto the table. It slid across the cheap linoleum and hit the pistol.

“Is it true?” I screamed, my voice cracking. “Are you Maria Costello? Did you pay Daniel to abandon his wife?!”

My mother looked at the necklace. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t cry. The frail, sick woman vanished, replaced by a cold, hardened matriarch.

“I did what I had to do to survive, Emma,” she said smoothly. “The Morettis wiped out our entire family twenty years ago. I hid you. I protected you. I used Gianna’s weakness to tear them down.”

“You ruined innocent lives!” I sobbed. “You made me think you were dying! I scrubbed floors on my hands and knees for a year to pay your fake medical bills!”

“It kept you humble. It kept you safe,” she replied, standing up. “And it worked. Marco is going to prison. Vanessa is gone. The Moretti empire is bleeding. Tomorrow, I take the evidence to the Commission, and the Costello family reclaims Chicago.”

She picked up the gun and slid it into her purse.

“Pack your bags, Emma. We’re leaving.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I backed away toward the door.

My mother’s eyes hardened.

Cliffhanger: “You don’t have a choice, Emma,” she said coldly. “Because if you don’t come with me, the men I have waiting outside are going to burn this building to the ground, with everyone in it.”

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