Chapter 12 - saint jude's
Saint Jude’s convent was an imposing brick fortress tucked away on a quiet, tree-lined street in Queens. Rain pounded against the stained-glass windows as Victor’s convoy pulled up to the heavy wrought-iron gates.
Victor stepped out alone, leaving his guards at the perimeter to avoid alarming the nuns. Marcus, wrapped in a blanket, walked slowly beside him, leaning on a cane.
Marcus knocked three times on the heavy oak rectory door, followed by two quick taps.
A small peephole slid open. An elderly nun with sharp, intelligent grey eyes looked through the grille. Her gaze drifted from Marcus to Victor.
Her breath hitched. "Victor?"
"Mother Beatrice," Victor said softly, lowering his head with genuine respect. "I'm here for my daughter."
The heavy deadbolts turned. The door swung open, and the warmth of burning beeswax and polished wood greeted them.
Mother Beatrice led them through the quiet, arched cloister toward a small, warmly lit library at the end of the hall. Sitting at a low wooden table, coloring inside a sketchbook under the glow of a green banker's lamp, was a six-year-old girl.
She wore a navy-blue school uniform. Her hair was bright, spun-gold, falling in soft waves over her shoulders, and when she looked up, her wide, piercing dark eyes were the exact mirror image of Victor Bellacorte’s own.
Victor stopped in the doorway. The man who had faced down firing squads and ruled an underworld empire without blinking felt his knees tremble.
The little girl put down her crayon. She looked at Marcus, then tilted her head at Victor, studying his broad frame, his rugged, battle-scarred face, and the black signet ring on his finger.
She didn't flinch. She stood up from her chair, walking over to him with quiet, fearless grace.
"Uncle Marcus said you were fighting a long war," Sophia said, her sweet, clear voice cutting straight through Victor’s soul.
Victor slowly dropped to one knee on the hardwood floor, bringing himself to her eye level. He reached into his coat and drew out the platinum sapphire pendant, holding it out to her in his open palm.
Sophia’s eyes lit up. "Mama’s rose."
"Your mother wanted you to have it," Victor whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
Sophia reached out, wrapping her small arms around Victor’s neck. Victor pulled her into his chest, burying his face in her golden hair as a silent, solitary tear tracked down his weathered cheek.
Marcus watched from the doorway, wiping his eyes with a bruised hand.
Then Mother Beatrice cleared her throat gently, her expression darkening with urgency. "Victor. You have your child, but you don't have the whole truth."
Victor pulled back, frowning. "What do you mean?"
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Mother Beatrice reached into her habit and pulled out a small, tarnished brass key. "Elena didn't leave this pendant for the auction. She left it with a legal deposit box inside the Grand Syndicate Vault. She told me to give you this key only if you returned alive."
***
