Chapter 3 - THE BROTHER WITH THE BROKEN HAND
Nora's apartment smelled of damp plaster and instant coffee.
She unlocked the door at eleven-forty.
Her younger brother, Ethan Callahan, sat at the kitchen table with his right hand wrapped in a dirty bandage.
Nora stopped.
“What happened?”
Ethan looked away.
“Nothing.”
She dropped her bag.
“Ethan.”
He sighed.
“I fell.”
“On what? Someone's fist?”
He didn't answer.
Nora crossed the room and gently took his wrist.
The bandage was stained.
His knuckles were swollen.
She felt anger rise.
“Was it Rocco?”
Ethan closed his eyes.
Rocco Bellucci controlled a small but vicious loan-sharking operation in South Boston.
Ethan had borrowed money after losing his construction job.
Three thousand dollars.
Then came interest.
Fees.
Penalties.
Threats.
Within four months, Rocco claimed Ethan owed nearly twenty thousand.
Nora had taken the job at Arthur's estate because she believed four paychecks would be enough to negotiate a settlement.
Now she wasn't sure any amount would satisfy Rocco.
“He said Friday,” Ethan whispered.
Nora looked up.
“What?”
“He wants the money by Friday.”
“And if we don't have it?”
Ethan swallowed.
“He said he'd make an example of me.”
Nora sat down.
For a moment, she couldn't breathe.
The next morning, she arrived at the Moretti estate early.
Arthur was already in the kitchen.
Pascal stood beside him looking offended.
“You cannot seriously expect me to prepare this peasant food.”
Arthur's expression remained calm.
“Then don't.”
Pascal stared.
“Excuse me?”
“I didn't ask you to cook it.”
Nora entered quietly.
Arthur turned.
“Miss Callahan.”
She stopped.
“Sir.”
“Can you make the same pasta again?”
She blinked.
“For breakfast?”
Arthur looked at the clock.
“Is there a law against it?”
Despite everything, she almost laughed.
“No.”
As she cooked, Arthur watched from the doorway.
He noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes.
The way she moved carefully, as though every muscle hurt.
The faint bruising around her wrist.
“Did something happen?”
Nora shook her head.
“No.”
Arthur studied her.
“Your grandmother was a terrible liar too.”
Nora froze.
Then turned toward the stove.
“It's family business.”
Arthur's expression changed.
“Is someone hurting your family?”
She didn't answer.
Arthur stepped closer.
“Nora.”
She looked at him.
For a moment, she considered telling him everything.
Then she remembered who he was.
A mafia boss.
A man surrounded by armed guards.
A man who could make people disappear.
She shook her head.
“I don't want trouble.”
Arthur looked at her for a long moment.
Then said quietly:
“Sometimes trouble finds people who never invited it.”
That afternoon, Dominic entered Arthur's study.
“I found something about the Callahans.”
Arthur looked up.
“What?”
Dominic placed a folder on the desk.
“Nora's brother owes money to a loan shark.”
Arthur opened the folder.
His expression hardened.
“Who?”
Dominic hesitated.
“Rocco Bellucci.”
Arthur went still.
The name seemed to drain every trace of warmth from the room.
“Bellucci?”
Dominic nodded.
“Frank Bellucci's son.”
Arthur slowly closed the folder.
For twenty-seven years, he'd believed the Bellucci family was gone.
Now one of them was threatening Maria Callahan's grandson.
Arthur stood.
“Find out everything.”
Dominic frowned.
“Boss?”
May you like
Arthur's voice became dangerously quiet.
“Everything.”
