Chapter 8 - The Woman With Red NailsDante returned to the office with dust on his sleeves and fury in his eyes.
The service passage had been opened from the chapel side. The old welds had been cut cleanly and recently, then disguised with paint and shadow. Whoever had entered the east room knew the house intimately.
Then we told him about the call.
Lucia sends her love.
For the first time since I had met Dante Moretti, I saw shock break through his control.
It lasted less than a second.
But it was there.
“Lucia is dead,” he said.
Nobody answered.
Even Matteo knew better.
Dante looked at Rafe.
“Find the grave records.”
“Already requested.”
“The body?”
“Cremated.”
Dante’s face hardened.
“Of course.”
I stood near the desk, one hand on the chair to keep myself upright. The pain medication Dr. Bellaro had sent with me sat untouched on a silver tray. I needed it badly.
I did not trust myself to sleep.
Not in this house.
Not with dead women making phone calls.
Dante noticed the tremor in my hand.
“Sit.”
“I’m tired of that word.”
“Then collapse standing. It will be dramatic but inefficient.”
Despite everything, a laugh escaped me.
Small.
Painful.
Dante looked at me like the sound had caught him unprepared.
Then the door opened, and Vincent Romano walked in with his hands raised.
Three guns immediately pointed at him.
Matteo screamed.
Dante moved in front of his son so fast I barely saw it.
Vincent looked terrible.
His perfect suit was torn at one shoulder. Blood marked his cheek. One eye was swelling. His silver pocket watch was gone, obviously because we had it.
“Before you shoot me,” Vincent said, breathing hard, “you should know I did not attack your son.”
Dante’s voice was ice.
“You ran.”
“I was taken.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.” Vincent’s eyes flicked to me. “I expect her to.”
Every face turned toward me.
I took a step back.
“Why would I believe anything you say?”
“Because I know who your mother was.”
Dante grabbed Vincent by the collar and slammed him against the wall.
Matteo cried out.
Rafe pulled the child into the corner, shielding him.
Dante’s face was inches from Vincent’s.
“You speak to her only when I permit it.”
Vincent smiled through blood.
“There he is. The king of Chicago, still confusing protection with ownership.”
Dante’s hand tightened.
“Dante,” I said.
He did not look at me.
“If you kill him before he talks, I’m going to be very annoyed.”
That reached him.
Barely.
He released Vincent with a shove.
Vincent coughed, straightening his jacket as if dignity mattered in a room full of guns.
“Evelyn Hayes worked for Sofia,” he said.
The words hit me like a slap.
“My mother cleaned offices.”
“She cleaned one office. Sofia’s private office at Aurelios, where Dante’s wife met people she could not trust inside this house.”
Dante’s gaze snapped to Vincent.
“You knew?”
“I knew after she died.”
“Liar.”
“Yes,” Vincent said simply. “But not about that.”
I gripped the chair harder.
“What did my mother do?”
Vincent looked at me, and for the first time, there was no mockery in his face.
“She hid the folder.”
Silence.
Dante turned slowly toward me.
The brass key seemed to pulse in my pocket.
“My mother had your wife’s folder?”
Vincent nodded. “Sofia knew she was being watched. She trusted Evelyn because Evelyn had no ambition, no greed, and no love for men like us. She asked your mother to hide the folder until it was safe.”
“Safe from who?” I whispered.
Vincent’s eyes moved to Dante.
“From Lucia.”
Dante’s face hardened. “Lucia had no power.”
“Lucia had something better,” Vincent said. “She was underestimated. Everyone watched the men. Nobody watched the grieving little sister with red nails and pretty tears.”
Rafe spoke from the corner. “Lucia died.”
“No,” Vincent said. “A girl from one of her clubs died. Similar height. Burned badly enough. Dental records changed by a doctor Lucia owned.”
Dante looked sick with rage.
“Why?” I asked. “Why fake her death?”
“Because Sofia found out Lucia had been selling routes, accounts, names, and protection schedules to the Russo family. When Sofia found proof, Lucia arranged the crash. But the folder disappeared before the car went over the bridge.”
My mother.
My ordinary, exhausted, pancake-making mother had carried evidence that could destroy a woman powerful enough to fake her death.
I sat down because my legs stopped pretending.
Dante turned on Vincent.
“Why did you run tonight?”
“Because Lucia wanted me blamed. The watch in the hallway was mine, yes. Stolen last week. The note was written by Marcus. The photo of Matteo was taken by someone using Mrs. Vale’s missing key. But the order came from Lucia.”
“How did she get inside my house?”
Vincent hesitated.
That hesitation changed the room.
Dante saw it.
“Vincent.”
“She had help from blood.”
Dante’s eyes darkened.
“Who?”
Before Vincent could answer, the lights went out.
The entire house dropped into blackness.
Matteo screamed.
Gun safeties clicked.
Emergency lights flickered red along the baseboards, turning everyone into shadows and blood.
Then a voice came through the house speakers.
Lucia.
“My dear Dante,” she purred. “You always did build beautiful cages.”
Dante looked toward the ceiling, murder in his face.
“But cages have doors. And tonight, I have opened all of them.”
Somewhere downstairs, glass shattered.
Not falling crystal this time.
Windows.
Men shouted.
The house alarm began to wail.
Lucia laughed softly through the speakers.
“Bring me Clara Hayes and the key, and perhaps I will let the little prince keep breathing.”
Matteo sobbed.
Dante reached for him.
I reached into my pocket and closed my hand around the brass key.
May you like
Then I realized something that made my blood run cold.
The key was gone.
