Chapter 3 - Broken Seals and Hidden Truths
My heart thundered in my throat as I walked back down the sweeping marble staircase. Every pair of eyes in the room was fixed on me—or rather, on the fragile heirloom I carried. Vanessa glared at me with such venomous hatred that I felt a cold chill run down my spine. If looks could pull a trigger, I would have dropped dead on the seventeenth step.
“Put it on the table,” Luca instructed, gesturing to the heavy antique table in the center of the foyer.
I gently laid the vintage lace gown down, taking care to smooth the wrinkles out of the damaged train. Luca stepped beside me, his towering frame casting a long shadow over the delicate fabric. He didn't spare a glance at the dozens of guards standing at attention, nor at the delivery driver who was whimpering in the corner.
He slid a silver pocketknife from his suit, flicked the blade open, and sliced through the blackened wax sealing the cedar box.
*Crack.*
The sound of the ancient wood giving way echoed through the vaulted ceiling like a gunshot. Vanessa covered her face with her trembling hands, stepping back until her back hit the grand entryway wall.
Luca lifted the lid.
Inside lay no jewels, no gold, and no family heirlooms. There were only three items: a handwritten journal bound in faded blue velvet, an old micro-cassette tape, and a thick legal document stamped with the crest of the Bellini syndicate—Vanessa’s family.
Luca’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched violently beneath his scarred cheek. He picked up the legal document first. His eyes scanned the yellowed pages, his breathing growing dangerously shallow.
“A contract,” Luca whispered, the words dripping with venom. “Dated three weeks before my mother’s car plunged off the bridge. A territorial merger between the Moretti syndicate and Don Vincent Bellini.”
“Luca, listen to me,” Vanessa choked out, tears finally breaking through her heavy makeup. “That was business between our fathers! It has nothing to do with us!”
“It has everything to do with us,” Luca snarled, turning the page. “Because according to this agreement, the merger could only be finalized if my father’s bloodline was united with the Bellini family through marriage. And my mother refused to sign off on giving your father the western shipping docks.”
He reached into the box and pulled out the micro-cassette.
“Marco,” Luca commanded, not breaking his gaze from Vanessa. “Get the recorder from the office.”
“No!” Vanessa shrieked, lunging across the room. She abandoned all composure, clawing at Luca’s arm in a desperate attempt to snatch the cassette. “You don’t know what you’re doing! You’ll destroy both our families! My father will start a war!”
Luca didn’t even shift his weight. He caught Vanessa’s wrists with one hand, his grip like iron bands, squeezing until she gasped in pain.
“Your father started a war twenty years ago, Vanessa,” Luca said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “He just made the mistake of leaving the evidence in my mother’s hands.”
He shoved her back onto the marble floor. Vanessa collapsed in a heap of designer silk, sobbing hysterically.
Marco returned within seconds, placing a vintage dictaphone onto the table. Luca slotted the small tape inside and hit *Play*.
A harsh static filled the foyer. Then, a soft, trembling, yet undeniably regal voice drifted through the speakers:
*“If anyone is listening to this... it means Vincent Bellini succeeded. Luca, my sweet boy, if you are hearing my voice, you are a grown man now. Beware the Bellinis. They did not just tamper with my brakes tonight... Vincent’s own daughter, little Vanessa, was the one who left the door unlocked for his men...”*
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The entire room went dead silent.
***
