Chapter 9 – THE LETTER FROM THE GRAVE

Luca’s smile instantly vanished.

The relaxed, loving father disappeared, replaced in a fraction of a second by the ruthless boss of the Chicago syndicate. He straightened up, his hands dropping from my shoulders.

“What kind of problem?” Luca asked quietly, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the laughter at the dinner table.

Daniel handed him a small, sealed envelope. It looked old, the paper yellowed at the edges, sealed with dark red wax.

“A courier just dropped this off at the front gate,” Daniel whispered. “He said he was paid to deliver it exactly six months to the day after Carlo Bellini was arrested.”

Luca stared at the red wax seal. It bore the crest of a private Swiss bank.

“Take the family into the drawing room,” Luca ordered softly. “Lock the doors.”

My heart began to race. “Luca, what is it?”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” he lied smoothly, kissing my forehead. “I’ll be right in.”

I didn’t argue, but I didn’t go to the drawing room either. I followed Rosa, my mother, and Mia out of the dining room, but as soon as the doors closed, I slipped back down the hallway, hiding just out of sight near the grand staircase.

I watched Luca tear open the envelope.

He pulled out a single sheet of paper and a small, tarnished silver key.

As he read the letter, all the color drained from his face. His jaw locked so tightly I could see the muscle jumping in his cheek.

“Daniel,” Luca said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “Assemble a team. We are going to the downtown depository.”

“Tonight?” Daniel asked, surprised.

“Right now.”

Luca turned toward the front doors. I stepped out from the shadows, blocking his path.

“You promised,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. “You promised no more secrets.”

Luca stopped. He looked at me, a storm of conflicting emotions raging in his dark eyes. He didn’t want to frighten me, but he also respected me too much to lie again.

He handed me the letter.

I took the yellowed paper. The handwriting was elegant, sharp, and unmistakably belonged to Carlo Bellini.

Luca,

If you are reading this, it means I am either dead or rotting in a federal cell. You think you won. You think destroying my family brought you peace.

But you missed a detail, boy. Twelve years ago, your father didn’t just sell out your mother to me. He sold out the Collins family as well.

Did you really think a simple driver was targeted just because he was at the wrong place at the wrong time? Thomas Collins owned the land your precious new casino is built on. Your father forged the deed after he killed him.

The proof is in Box 402 at the Swiss Depository. The key is in the envelope.

Enjoy your empire, knowing it was built on the blood of the woman you love.

I stopped breathing. The paper slipped from my fingers, fluttering to the marble floor.

“My father,” I whispered, the room spinning around me. “He owned the land?”

Luca grabbed my arms, steadying me before I could collapse.

“Emma, listen to me,” he said fiercely, his eyes boring into mine. “I did not know. I swear on my life, I thought the casino land was purchased legally twenty years ago.”

“Your father forged the deed,” I choked out, tears instantly blinding me. “He didn’t just murder my dad to silence him. He murdered him to steal from him. And I’ve spent the last three years cleaning your floors, begging for overtime to pay for my mother’s medical bills, while your family made millions off our stolen property.”

The guilt on Luca’s face was devastating. He looked like I had just stabbed him in the chest.

“I am going to the bank right now,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a gravelly vow. “I am going to get the proof. And if Carlo is telling the truth, I will transfer every single asset from that property directly into your name by tomorrow morning.”

He turned and walked out the heavy oak doors into the night.

I stood in the grand hallway, completely shattered. The fairytale I had been living for the last six months evaporated, replaced by the bitter, ugly truth of mafia blood money.

I didn’t wait for Luca to return.

I walked upstairs to my beautiful bedroom. I took off the emerald-green dress he had bought for me. I put on my old jeans and a simple sweater. I packed a small duffel bag.

Then, I went to my mother’s room.

She was asleep, looking peaceful in the large, comfortable bed.

“Mom,” I whispered, gently shaking her awake. “We have to go.”

She blinked, confused. “Emma? What’s wrong? Are we going on a trip?”

“We can’t stay here,” I said, wiping a tear from my cheek. “We just can’t.”

I helped her into her wheelchair. I packed her oxygen tanks. I moved silently, avoiding the security guards patrolling the upper floors.

But as I pushed her wheelchair toward the service elevator, a small voice stopped me.

“Emma?”

I turned around. Mia was standing in the doorway of her bedroom, holding a stuffed bear. She rubbed her sleepy eyes.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

My heart broke into a million pieces. I knelt down and hugged her tightly, trying not to sob. “I have to go away for a little while, sweetie. But your Daddy loves you very much, okay? You be a good girl.”

“Don’t leave,” Mia pleaded, her little lip trembling. “You promised you were going to be my new mommy.”

I closed my eyes, the pain unbearable. “I’m sorry, Mia. I’m so sorry.”

I stood up, pushed my mother into the elevator, and pressed the button for the underground garage.

We took an Uber to a cheap motel on the outskirts of the city. I spent the entire night sitting by the window, watching the rain fall, grieving the loss of the man I loved and the family I thought I finally had.

At 6:00 AM, there was a knock at the door.

I froze. I slowly walked to the door and looked through the peephole.

It wasn’t Daniel. It wasn’t the security team.

It was Antonio Moretti. Luca’s exiled father.

Share