Chapter 5 - The Brother Who Knew
They returned to the Moretti mansion before dawn.
The ballroom looked different without guests.
Broken glass still glittered near the table where Luca had struck Salvatore.
Emma’s place card remained on the floor.
NOT FAMILY.
She picked it up.
Then tore it in half.
Luca watched.
“Feel better?”
“A little.”
“Good.”
Marco’s disappearance mattered more.
Security footage showed him entering the study where Salvatore had been held.
Four minutes later, both men left through a service corridor.
No struggle.
No weapon visible.
Marco had helped him.
Luca stood in the security room watching the footage repeatedly.
Emma stood behind him.
“You think Marco is involved.”
“I don’t know.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
Luca’s voice was tired now.
For the first time since Emma met him, he looked like a man carrying too many people.
His father alive.
His uncle exposed as a murderer.
His brother missing.
Emma placed one hand on his shoulder.
Luca looked at it.
Then at her.
“You’re touching me.”
She almost smiled.
“Don’t ruin it.”
He turned in the chair.
“Emma.”
“What?”
“I meant what I said downstairs.”
She knew exactly which words.
I don’t hide the woman I love.
“This is a terrible moment to discuss that.”
“Probably.”
“Your murderous uncle escaped.”
“I noticed.”
“Your dead father is drinking espresso in the library.”
“Also noticed.”
“And we may have to prove my mother was murdered.”
“I know.”
Emma looked at him for a long moment.
“Say it again when none of those things are happening.”
Luca’s eyes softened.
“I will.”
Gabriel entered.
“We found Marco’s car.”
“Where?”
“Brooklyn.”
“Inside?”
“Empty.”
Luca stood.
Antonio appeared behind Gabriel holding an old wooden box.
“I need to show you something.”
Luca’s expression hardened again.
“If it’s another person who didn’t actually die, I’m going to need five minutes.”
Antonio almost laughed.
Almost.
He placed the box on the table.
Inside were childhood photographs.
Luca frowned.
“What am I looking for?”
Antonio pulled out one photograph.
Luca and Marco as boys.
Luca around twelve.
Marco around nine.
Marco held a red leather notebook.
“The ledger,” Antonio said.
Emma leaned closer.
“You gave it to him?”
“No. Rachel did.”
“How do you know?”
“I took this picture the last afternoon I saw her.”
Luca took the photograph.
“Marco doesn’t remember.”
“He might.”
“Why would he hide it?”
Antonio looked toward the security footage.
“Maybe because he found out what was inside.”
Luca called Marco.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Emma studied the photograph.
“Where was this taken?”
Antonio looked.
“My old house.”
“Do you still own it?”
“No.”
“Who does?”
“Marco.”
Everyone turned.
Luca grabbed his coat.
The house stood forty minutes north of Manhattan.
Marco had renovated it but rarely stayed there.
Security found the front door unlocked.
Inside, lights were on.
“Marco?” Luca called.
No answer.
Emma followed him toward the study.
The room smelled of smoke.
Not cigarettes.
Paper.
A metal trash can sat near the fireplace.
Something had been burned.
Luca knelt.
He pulled out half a red leather cover.
Antonio whispered, “The ledger.”
Emma’s heart sank.
“Gone?”
Luca sifted through the ash.
“Not all of it.”
One corner of a page remained.
A name.
VICTOR HALE.
Below it:
RACHEL PARKER.
Enough to connect the ledger with the documents in the vault.
But probably not enough to prove everything.
A sound came from upstairs.
Luca immediately moved Emma behind him.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Someone descended.
Marco appeared.
Blood ran from a cut above his eyebrow.
Luca rushed forward.
“What happened?”
Marco laughed weakly.
“Dad?”
Antonio stepped into view.
Marco stared.
Then punched him.
Antonio stumbled backward.
“You don’t get to do that,” Marco said.
Antonio touched his lip.
“That seems to be the family consensus.”
Luca grabbed Marco.
“Where is Salvatore?”
Marco’s expression changed.
“I helped him escape.”
“We know.”
“I had to.”
“Why?”
“He said he’d kill Bianca.”
Emma stared.
“Bianca?”
Marco looked at her.
“He knows she talked.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
Luca swore.
Marco leaned against the wall.
“I followed him here. I thought he was coming for the ledger.”
“He burned it.”
“No.”
Marco looked toward the ash.
“That’s not the ledger.”
Antonio frowned.
“What?”
“The real ledger was already gone.”
“Who took it?”
Marco looked at Emma.
“Your father.”
“David?”
“Yes.”
Emma stared.
“David knew?”
“He knew everything.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he came to me before he died.”
Emma felt suddenly cold.
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
“My father died five years ago.”
“I know.”
“What did he say?”
Marco wiped blood from his eyebrow.
“He said if Emma Parker ever became connected to this family again, I was supposed to give her the ledger.”
Emma stepped closer.
“So where is it?”
Marco looked ashamed.
“I moved it.”
“To where?”
“I didn’t trust the family vault.”
“Good instinct.”
“I put it somewhere no Moretti would think to look.”
Emma waited.
Marco took something from his pocket.
A key.
Not brass.
Silver.
He handed it to her.
“Your father’s old house.”
Emma stopped breathing.
The house she had sold after David died.
A small place in Queens.
The buyers had renovated it.
“I don’t own it anymore.”
“You don’t need to.”
“What does the key open?”
“He installed a box beneath the garage floor.”
Luca looked at Marco.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Marco met his eyes.
“Because Dad told me not to trust anyone.”
Luca flinched.
Marco immediately regretted it.
“Luca—”
“No. Fair.”
Antonio looked away.
Emma pocketed the key.
“We go now.”
Marco shook his head.
“You can’t.”
“Why?”
“Salvatore knows.”
“How?”
“He beat it out of me.”
Luca’s eyes went murderous.
Marco touched the cut on his face.
“I told him the address.”
Emma’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone stared.
She answered.
“Hello?”
A man breathed once.
Then Salvatore spoke.
“Emma.”
Her hand tightened around the phone.
“Where is Bianca?”
A low chuckle.
“You’ve learned quickly.”
“Where is she?”
“At the house you grew up in.”
Luca took a step toward her.
Emma put the call on speaker.
Salvatore continued.
“And before you decide to bring Luca’s entire army, understand something.”
A woman cried faintly in the background.
Bianca.
Emma’s stomach turned.
Salvatore said:
“The ledger is under the garage.”
Marco closed his eyes.
“He knows,” Emma whispered.
Salvatore heard.
“Yes.”
His voice became almost cheerful.
“And if Luca comes through that front door, Bianca dies.”
The line disconnected.
Luca was already calling security.
Emma grabbed his wrist.
“He said—”
“I heard him.”
“You can’t storm the house.”
“I’m not letting you walk in alone.”
Emma looked at Marco.
“What does Salvatore want?”
“The ledger.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“If he only wanted the ledger, he could dig it up himself.”
Antonio’s expression changed.
Emma understood before anyone said it.
“He wants me.”
Luca looked at her.
“No.”
Emma stared toward the dark windows.
“Then we need to find out why.”
Her phone buzzed.
A message.
One photograph.
Bianca tied to a chair.
Behind her stood Salvatore.
And beside him was another man.
Emma recognized the tattoo from the bank footage.
Nico.
Under the photo was a sentence:
COME ALONE, OR SHE DIES.
Then a second message appeared.
Emma read it.
May you like
Her blood turned cold.
AND BRING LUCA’S FATHER.
