Chapter 6 - Midnight Wedding
Nobody spoke.
Isabella walked into the chapel.
Luca stared at the phone in her hand.
“Mama.”
She looked exhausted.
“I found it in my room.”
Marco moved closer.
“Who gave it to you?”
“No one.”
The screen changed.
A live video appeared.
The Moretti ballroom.
Wedding decorations.
Flowers.
Tables.
Four hundred empty chairs.
Then movement.
Men entered carrying cases.
Black cases.
Luca recognized some of them.
Wedding staff.
Florists.
Caterers.
Security subcontractors.
Except now they were opening the cases.
Weapons.
Carlo laughed.
Dominic turned toward him.
“You planned an attack.”
Carlo shook his head.
“Again. Not mine.”
Sofia stared at him.
“Then whose?”
Carlo looked almost amused.
“Antonio had more enemies than me.”
Luca grabbed him by the collar.
“Name.”
Carlo smiled.
“Bellini.”
Everyone turned toward Marco.
Marco’s face went blank.
Luca slowly released Carlo.
“Marco?”
Marco shook his head.
“Not me.”
Carlo laughed.
“Not you.”
Then Marco understood.
“My father.”
Gianni Bellini.
Marco’s father.
Dead for nine years.
Or supposedly dead.
Isabella sat down.
“Oh, God.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
Carlo continued.
“Gianni was the third man.”
Luca stared.
“What third man?”
“Antonio. Dominic. Gianni.”
Dominic’s voice was bitter.
“The man we trusted most.”
History repeated itself.
Luca almost laughed.
Every generation had the same disease.
Trust.
Betrayal.
Silence.
Marco looked sick.
“My father died.”
Carlo said, “Your father disappeared.”
Marco stepped toward him.
“Where is he?”
Carlo smiled.
“Midnight.”
The phone changed.
A message.
BRING LUCA, ISABELLA, DOMINIC, SOFIA, MARCO.
NO POLICE.
COME TO THE BALLROOM.
Luca looked at the time.
11:12 p.m.
Forty-eight minutes.
Sofia stepped beside him.
“We go.”
“No.”
“Luca.”
“No.”
“You don’t get to order me away.”
“I’m not losing you tonight.”
“You don’t own me.”
He looked at her.
Pain passed between them.
“I know.”
That stopped her.
Luca continued.
“But I don’t know if I trust you.”
Sofia’s eyes filled.
“Fair.”
He expected anger.
Instead, she nodded.
“I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
“I was afraid.”
“That doesn’t make the lie smaller.”
“No.”
Elena watched them.
This was not a romantic reunion.
It was better.
It was honesty.
Ugly.
Late.
Necessary.
Dominic stepped forward.
“Gianni wants all of us together.”
Marco said, “Why?”
“To finish what started thirty years ago.”
They returned through the tunnels.
Bianchi was conscious.
He confirmed everything.
Gianni Bellini had visited him two days earlier pretending to inspect security.
Bianchi recognized him from an old photograph.
Gianni threatened him.
Bianchi secretly altered the suit again, leaving Elena the blue wax clues.
Elena looked at him.
“You knew I’d come.”
“I hoped.”
“You risked my life.”
“Yes.”
She slapped him.
Everyone stared.
Bianchi touched his cheek.
“I deserved that.”
Elena nodded.
“Yes.”
Then she hugged him.
At 11:48, the group entered the Moretti ballroom.
No guests.
No music.
Only flowers.
Candles.
And armed men hidden behind pillars.
At the altar stood Gianni Bellini.
Older.
Gray.
Alive.
Marco stopped breathing.
“Dad.”
Gianni smiled.
“My son.”
Marco looked shattered.
“You let me bury you.”
“You buried a body.”
“You let Mama mourn you.”
Gianni’s smile faded.
“She was safer that way.”
Marco laughed bitterly.
“Everybody keeps saying that.”
Luca understood exactly.
Gianni looked at him.
“Antonio’s boy.”
“I’m thirty-five.”
“You’ll always be Antonio’s boy to me.”
“And you killed him.”
Gianni shook his head.
“No.”
Luca almost lost control.
Gianni raised one hand.
“I sabotaged his car.”
“That is killing him.”
“He wasn’t supposed to die.”
Dominic laughed.
“Still using that excuse?”
Gianni looked at him.
“The brakes were meant to fail near the warehouse. Antonio had a second route.”
“But he took the river road,” Isabella whispered.
Gianni nodded.
“And died.”
Luca’s hands clenched.
“Why sabotage him at all?”
“To stop him from meeting federal investigators.”
Antonio had planned to leave the criminal world.
He intended to expose everyone.
Dominic.
Carlo.
Gianni.
Himself.
He wanted Luca free.
The revelation shattered everything Luca believed about his father.
Antonio had not wanted Luca to inherit the empire.
He wanted to destroy it.
Gianni continued.
“Antonio became weak.”
Dominic said, “He became a father.”
Gianni smiled.
“Same thing.”
Marco raised his weapon.
“No.”
Gianni looked at him.
“You won’t shoot me.”
Marco’s hand trembled.
“You don’t know me.”
“I made you.”
“No.”
Marco looked at Luca.
“He did.”
Gianni’s eyes narrowed.
That was the moment Luca understood.
Gianni had expected Marco’s loyalty to blood.
But Marco had chosen family.
Not the family he was born into.
The family he built.
Gianni signaled.
Armed men emerged.
Luca’s men emerged too.
For one terrible second, nobody knew who would shoot first.
Then Elena saw red thread.
Not on a suit.
Across the aisle.
Thin.
Nearly invisible.
Running between flower arrangements.
She followed it.
Toward the altar.
Toward Sofia.
“Elena?” Luca said.
She whispered, “Nobody move.”
Gianni’s smile widened.
She understood.
The wedding suit had been rehearsal.
The ballroom was the real trap.
Gianni stepped backward.
“You really are talented.”
Elena stared at the thread.
“Luca.”
May you like
“What?”
“It’s everywhere.”
