Chapter 5 – The Voice in the Metal

The micro-cassette tape was no larger than a matchbook, but it felt like a bomb resting in the palm of my hand.

Luca stared at it, his jaw tight.

“My father didn’t just keep the watch as a trophy,” he murmured. “He kept it as a vault.”

Maria stepped closer, her tired eyes widening. “Anthony recorded everything. Every deal, every threat. He trusted no one. If that tape is from the night of the accident…”

“It could prove Vanessa was driving,” Luca finished. He looked at me. “Emma, we need to play it.”

“I don’t have a player for this,” I said, my heart racing. “These are ancient.”

“I do,” Luca said. “In the basement archives. My father kept all his old dictation equipment.”

He didn’t wait for a response. He turned and strode out of the study.

I hurried after him, the heavy wool coat swallowing my small frame. Maria followed closely behind, while Susan remained in the study, weeping quietly into her hands, too terrified to move.

We navigated the labyrinthine hallways of the Moretti mansion, moving away from the empty ballroom where the cleaning staff was already sweeping up the remnants of a shattered engagement.

We descended the spiral stone staircase into the basement.

The archives smelled of dry paper and dust. Row upon row of filing cabinets held the history of the Moretti empire.

Luca walked to a heavy oak desk in the corner. Sitting on it was a bulky, outdated cassette player.

He held out his hand.

I hesitated for a fraction of a second. This tape held the voice of the man who ruined my family.

I placed the micro-cassette into Luca’s palm.

He slotted it into the machine and pressed play.

For a moment, there was only the hiss of static.

Then, a voice filled the quiet basement.

Deep. Authoritative. Cold.

Anthony Moretti.

“The girl is a liability, Susan.”

Susan’s voice, younger, frantic, echoed through the speaker.

“She’s a child, Anthony! It was an accident. The roads were wet, he stepped out—”

“He was on the sidewalk, Susan,” Anthony’s voice cut in sharply. “She jumped the curb. She killed a man. If the police find the blue sedan with the blood on the bumper, she goes to juvenile detention, and you go to prison for negligence.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks. Hearing it spoken so clinically made the horror of that night fresh again.

“What do I do?” Susan sobbed on the tape. “Please, Anthony. I owe you money, I know. But help me.”

There was a long pause on the recording. Only the sound of ice clinking in a glass.

Then, Anthony spoke.

“I have a contact in the precinct. The report will say it was a red truck. Unidentified. Case goes cold. But this favor comes with a price.”

“Anything,” Susan begged.

“I want the girl.”

“What?”

“I want Vanessa,” Anthony said, his tone devoid of emotion. “She moves into my house. She becomes my ward. You leave Chicago, and you never contact her again.”

“You can’t take my daughter!”

“She isn’t your daughter, Susan,” Anthony snapped. “We both know that. Maria gave her to you to keep her away from my world. But Maria works for me. The girl belongs in this house. You sign the papers, or I make the call to the precinct right now.”

Maria let out a choked sob in the dark basement, covering her mouth with her hands.

On the tape, Susan wept.

“Fine. Take her. Just keep her out of jail.”

The sound of a pen scratching on paper echoed through the speaker.

Then, a chair scraped backward.

“There is one more thing,” Anthony said.

“What else could you possibly want?” Susan asked, defeated.

“The man she killed,” Anthony said. “Arthur Reed. I know who he is.”

My breath caught in my throat. I stepped closer to the machine.

“He’s a dockworker,” Susan said, confused. “Nobody important.”

“He is a union rep for the dockworkers,” Anthony corrected. “And he has been loudly opposing my company’s acquisition of the South Side port. He was planning to organize a strike next week that would cost me twenty million dollars.”

Luca froze.

He stared at the tape player, his eyes wide with a horrific realization.

“His death is… convenient,” Anthony continued smoothly. “But people will ask questions. They will think it was a union hit. Unless, of course, the police find evidence that Arthur Reed was corrupt himself.”

“I don’t understand,” Susan said.

“I am going to plant a ledger in Arthur Reed’s locker at the docks,” Anthony said. “A ledger showing he was embezzling union funds. His death won’t be a tragedy. It will be the panicked flight of a criminal. His family will get no union pension. No life insurance. They get nothing.”

I felt physically sick.

They hadn’t just killed my father. They had erased his honor. That was why the union abandoned us. That was why my mother had to work three jobs. My father died a disgraced thief in the eyes of his friends.

“But he didn’t steal anything!” Susan protested weakly.

“He did now,” Anthony replied coldly. “And you are going to help me plant it.”

The tape clicked, and the hiss of static returned.

Luca hit the stop button.

His hands were shaking violently.

He turned to look at me. The powerful, composed billionaire was gone. In his place was a man shattered by the sins of his blood.

“Emma,” Luca whispered, his voice cracking. “I… I didn’t know.”

I couldn’t speak. I looked at the gold pocket watch on the desk.

My father had pawned his only prized possession because he was broke, and Anthony Moretti had framed him for stealing thousands.

Suddenly, the heavy basement door at the top of the stairs slammed shut.

The click of a deadbolt echoed loudly.

Luca spun around. “Hey!” he shouted, rushing to the stairs.

He pounded on the heavy wooden door. It didn’t budge.

A voice drifted down from the air vent above the door.

It was Vanessa.

“Did you really think I left the property, Luca?”

“Open this door, Vanessa!” Luca roared, throwing his shoulder against the solid oak.

“You found the tape,” Vanessa’s voice echoed, dripping with malice. “I suspected Anthony kept a copy. It’s a shame you won’t be able to share it with the police.”

“You can’t keep us locked down here!” Maria cried out. “The staff will find us in the morning!”

“The staff is gone, Maria,” Vanessa sneered. “I sent them all home with a bonus. The house is empty.”

We heard the sound of liquid splashing against the other side of the door.

The sharp, chemical smell of gasoline instantly flooded the basement stairwell.

“Anthony built this empire with fire, Luca,” Vanessa said softly. “It’s only fitting it ends with one.”

The distinct sound of a match striking echoed through the vent.

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