Chapter 3
The air in the study felt as if it had been suddenly drained of oxygen. Moretti remained kneeling on the rug, his hands resting on his knee, his mind spinning in chaotic acceleration.
The silver box.
Ten years ago, on the night Luca was murdered in the South Side alleyway, his personal silver keepsake box—an antique heirloom holding his journals, his pocket watch, and private papers—had vanished from his vehicle. Moretti had spent a decade tearing Chicago apart looking for it, believing it had been stolen by the rival syndicate assassins who took his brother's life. He had assumed it was lost forever, a bitter casualty of an unsolved war.
"Sophie," Moretti whispered, his deep voice trembling with an emotion he hadn't felt in ten years. "What does this box look like?"
"It's shiny silver with little carved flowers on top," Sophie answered, using her tiny hands to measure a box in the air. "And it's wrapped in a soft blue blanket. Mommy keeps it at the very back of her wooden closet behind her long coats. She told me never to touch it because it belongs to an angel."
Moretti slowly stood up to his full, imposing height. His heart hammered violently against his ribs beneath his fitted black shirt. He walked over to his grand mahogany desk, leaning his heavy, tattooed hands on the polished wood as he processed the revelation.
Before he could speak, a frantic knock sounded at the double doors. The doors opened, and Frank escorted Maria Russo into the study.
Maria, the household cook, was a thirty-eight-year-old woman with soft features and dark hair tied back in a baker's knot. She was pale, trembling, and clutching her flour-dusted apron in pure terror.
"Mr. Moretti! I am so, so sorry!" Maria cried out, her voice cracking as she rushed toward her daughter. "Sophie, oh my god, sweetie, come here! Sir, please, she's only five! She slipped out while I was pulling the pastries from the oven! I promise she didn't mean to disrespect you!"
"Maria, stop," Moretti commanded. His voice wasn't loud, but the sheer weight of authority in it made the cook freeze instantly.
Maria pulled Sophie behind her skirts, her eyes darting nervously between Moretti, the massive Cane Corso standing peacefully by the desk, and the quiet room. "Please, Mr. Moretti... I'll pack our things. We'll leave tonight—"
"No one is leaving," Moretti said firmly. He stepped out from behind his desk, his polished black leather shoes striking the floor with deliberate slowness. He stopped three feet in front of the frightened cook. "Maria, I didn't summon you here to fire you."
Maria blinked through her tears. "You... you didn't?"
"Sophie just told me about a silver box in your closet," Moretti said, his piercing dark eyes locking onto hers with razor-sharp intensity. "A silver box wrapped in blue velvet that belonged to my brother."
Maria’s face completely drained of color. The faint rosiness in her cheeks vanished, leaving her deathly pale. Her hands shook so violently that she dropped her apron.
"Mr. Moretti... I..." Maria stammered, her voice dropping into a terrified whisper.
"Is it true, Maria?" Moretti pressed, taking a step closer, his broad frame casting a towering shadow over her. "Do you have Luca's silver box?"
Maria buried her face in her hands and let out a broken, shuddering sob. "Yes, Mr. Moretti. I have it."
"Why?" Moretti demanded, his voice laced with a dark, dangerous edge that made Frank tighten his grip on his holster outside the door. "Why has my brother's private box been sitting in your closet for ten years while I searched the entire city for it?"
"Because Luca gave it to me!" Maria wept, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. "He brought it to my apartment three hours before he was killed on Halloween night ten years ago!"
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Moretti froze. "Luca brought it to you?"
"Yes!" Maria cried. "Luca came to my door in the middle of the storm. He was bleeding from a cut on his arm, and he was terrified. He handed me the silver box wrapped in his blue scarf. He told me that if anything ever happened to him, I was to keep it hidden at all costs. He said... he said there was a traitor inside the Moretti family, someone very close to you, and that if the traitor knew the box existed, everyone in this house would be killed!"
