Chapter 5 – THE VOICE ON THE BURNER PHONE

The burner phone slipped from my sweaty fingers and clattered onto the hardwood floor.

They know about my brother.

My mind raced. How could the Russians possibly know about my brother? I had kept my personal life entirely separate from my job at the Moretti estate.

Unless Vanessa had dug into my background the day I corrected her about the broken vase.

I dropped to my knees and snatched the phone back up.

“Don’t touch him!” I screamed into the receiver. “He has nothing to do with this!”

A low, cruel chuckle echoed through the speaker.

“Ten minutes, little maid,” the Russian said. “Walk out the front gates. Alone. Or your brother burns.”

The line went dead.

Tears of pure, blinding panic streamed down my face. I couldn’t search for the ledger. I couldn’t save Luca. I had to save my family.

I shoved the phone into my pocket and sprinted down the hallway toward the front foyer.

I reached the massive oak doors. I grabbed the heavy brass handle, ready to pull it open and surrender myself to the monsters waiting outside.

But a hand clamped over mine, stopping me.

I gasped, spinning around.

It was Daniel.

“What are you doing?” the security chief hissed, his eyes darting toward the security cameras he had looped with false footage.

“They have my brother, Daniel!” I sobbed, fighting against his grip. “They’re going to kill him if I don’t go outside!”

Daniel didn’t let go. His massive frame blocked the door completely.

“It’s a bluff, Olivia,” Daniel said firmly.

“You don’t know that!”

“I do know that,” Daniel insisted, pulling me away from the door. “Because the moment Elias told me you were coming back in, I sent four of my best men to your brother’s apartment. They pulled him out two hours ago. He’s safe at the warehouse with Leo.”

I stopped struggling. The air rushed back into my lungs.

“He’s safe?” I whispered, my knees trembling.

“He’s safe,” Daniel promised. “The Russians are monitoring Vanessa’s burner phone. They traced your voice, panicked, and threw out a blind threat hoping you’d bite. They don’t have him.”

I leaned against the marble wall, sliding down until I hit the floor, burying my face in my hands.

“We don’t have time for a breakdown, Olivia,” Daniel urged gently, pulling me back to my feet. “It’s 6:00 AM. Luca’s transfer is at 8:00 PM. We need that ledger.”

I wiped my face, forcing the terror down into a small, tight box in my chest.

“The library,” I said, my voice steadying. “Elias said Michael hid it where only someone who understands history would look.”

We moved silently up the grand staircase.

The library was a two-story masterpiece of mahogany shelves and antique leather. The morning sun filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting colorful shadows across the floor.

I stood in the center of the room, looking at the thousands of books, antique globes, and historical artifacts.

“Where do we start?” Daniel asked, looking overwhelmed.

“Michael was killed three years ago,” I muttered, pacing the floor. “He hid it before he died. That means he hid it in something that hasn’t been moved or altered in three years.”

I walked over to the massive fireplace. Above the mantle hung a priceless 18th-century painting of the Roman Colosseum.

“Is there a safe behind the painting?” I asked.

Daniel shook his head. “No. I installed the security system here. The only safe is the one Vanessa emptied.”

I kept walking. I ran my hands over the spines of first-edition encyclopedias. Nothing felt out of place.

Then, my eyes landed on the pedestal in the corner of the room.

The pedestal where the sixty-thousand-dollar antique vase usually sat. The one Vanessa had shattered.

But the pedestal wasn’t empty.

Vanessa had placed the fake, modern replica on the stand to cover her tracks.

I walked over to it.

“Luca said his father paid a Japanese craftsman to restore the original vase when he was a child,” I remembered out loud. “Kintsugi. The art of repairing broken pottery with gold.”

“What does that have to do with the ledger?” Daniel asked, staying near the door.

“Kintsugi isn’t just about making things look pretty,” I explained, my antique restoration training taking over. “The gold lacquer makes the repaired joints stronger than the original porcelain. But it also creates thicker seams.”

I looked at the empty space beneath the fake vase.

“If Michael hid the ledger inside the real vase…” I reasoned, “Vanessa would have found it when she stole it for the auction.”

“But she didn’t find it,” Daniel said. “Because Elias bought the decoy notebook at the auction.”

“Exactly,” I smiled, the pieces finally clicking together. “Michael didn’t hide the ledger inside the vase.”

I dropped to my knees and examined the heavy, ornate wooden pedestal the vase rested on. It was a 19th-century French pedestal, carved from solid mahogany.

I ran my fingers along the decorative molding near the base.

There was a tiny, almost invisible seam in the wood. A seam that hadn’t been there when the piece was originally crafted.

I pressed my thumb hard against a carved wooden rosette.

With a soft click, a hidden drawer slid out from the base of the pedestal.

Daniel let out a low whistle.

Inside the velvet-lined drawer sat a small, red, leather-bound ledger.

“We found it,” I breathed, picking up the book.

I opened the ledger. The pages were filled with handwritten notes, bank routing numbers, and dates linking Vanessa to high-ranking Russian syndicate members. It was exactly what we needed to clear Luca and destroy her.

But as I flipped to the back of the book, a loose photograph slipped out and fluttered to the floor.

I bent down and picked it up.

I stared at the image.

My heart completely stopped.

“Olivia?” Daniel asked, stepping closer. “What is it?”

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe.

It was a photograph of my mother.

She was standing in a park, holding a baby. Me.

But standing next to her, with his arm wrapped lovingly around her waist, wasn’t the man I grew up believing was my father.

It was Luca’s father. Don Antonio Moretti.

TITLE: The Secret In The Mother’s Photograph

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