Chapter 4 - THE MAN OUTSIDE THE DOOR
Irene did not open the door.
Not immediately.
She stood in the darkness with one hand gripping the silver necklace.
“Who are you?”
The man answered quietly.
“My name is Tomas Bellini.”
Her breath caught.
Tomas.
Her father's former driver.
A man she remembered as broad-shouldered, cheerful, and endlessly patient with children.
He had taught her how to ride a bicycle.
He had disappeared the night the estate burned.
“Prove it,” she whispered.
Silence.
Then Tomas said something in Arbëreshë.
A sentence her mother used to say when Isabella was frightened.
The moon cannot forget the road home.
Irene covered her mouth.
Tears filled her eyes.
She opened the door.
Tomas stood in the hallway.
Older.
Thinner.
A deep scar crossed his forehead.
But his eyes were the same.
“Bella.”
She began crying.
He stepped forward.
She hugged him.
For a moment, fourteen years disappeared.
Then Tomas pulled away.
“We don't have much time.”
Irene wiped her face.
“What happened to my mother?”
“She's alive.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“Why didn't she come for me?”
Tomas's expression changed.
“Because the people who attacked your family never stopped looking.”
Irene stared.
“Who?”
Tomas hesitated.
Then whispered:
“Someone inside the Vulpe organization.”
Irene went still.
“Aleandro?”
Tomas shook his head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
Tomas looked toward the stairwell.
“His father.”
Irene felt the room tilt.
Aleandro's father, Vittorio Vulpe, had died six years earlier.
At least, officially.
He had been a powerful Sicilian boss.
A man whose reputation extended far beyond Chicago.
Tomas continued.
“Vittorio wanted your father's records.”
“What records?”
“The ledger.”
Irene frowned.
“What ledger?”
Tomas stared at her.
“Giovanni never told you?”
She shook her head.
Tomas closed his eyes.
Then whispered:
“Your father kept proof of every betrayal committed by the men who controlled the shipping routes.”
Irene felt cold.
“And Vittorio wanted it?”
“Yes.”
“Did he get it?”
Tomas shook his head.
“No.”
Irene stared.
“Then where is it?”
Tomas looked at the necklace in her hand.
His expression changed.
“Your mother gave you that?”
Irene nodded.
May you like
He swallowed.
“Then you may have been carrying the answer for fourteen years.”
