Chapter 9 - The Vault of Secrets
|
Salvatore Bellini backed out of the mansion like a beaten dog, his bodyguards shielding his retreat.
The heavy oak doors slammed shut behind him, locking with a resounding metallic boom.
The grand foyer remained completely silent for five seconds.
Then Luca turned around and looked up at the staircase.
Every single soldier in the hall dropped to one knee, bowing their heads toward Oliver.
"Hail the young boss," Marco called out.
"Hail Moretti!" the sixty men roared in unison.
Oliver gasped and pressed closer to my side, clutching my skirt.
"Mommy, why are they kneeling?" he whispered.
I looked down at the sea of loyal men, my heart aching with both pride and fear.
"Because they know who your daddy was, baby," I answered softly.
Luca walked up the stairs, taking two steps at a time until he reached our level.
He knelt down in front of Oliver and smiled warmly.
"You did great, buddy," Luca praised him. "Your daddy would be so proud of how brave you are."
"Can we go see Daddy's bank box now?" Oliver asked, holding up the brass key.
Luca looked at me, nodding firmly.
"Marco, prepare the armored convoy," Luca ordered. "We're going to Lakefront Union Bank right now."
Twenty minutes later, we were riding inside a heavily armored Mercedes-Benz, flanked by four black pursuit vehicles.
The streets of downtown Chicago whizzed past the tinted bulletproof windows.
Oliver sat between Luca and me, marveling at the leather interior and the city skyline.
For the past three years, our world had been confined to crowded city buses, discount grocery stores, and late-night laundry shifts.
Now, the city moved out of our way as police escorts cleared the intersections.
We arrived at the towering stone facade of Lakefront Union Bank on LaSalle Street.
Armed Moretti guards secured the perimeter of the building within seconds.
The bank's vice president, a nervous man who clearly recognized Luca Moretti, escorted us directly into the underground vault.
The vault door was a massive round disc of gleaming steel and copper dials.
Inside the climate-controlled safety deposit room, the vice president located Box 409.
"Leave us," Luca commanded.
The bank officer bowed quickly and backed out of the vault, closing the metal gate behind him.
Oliver handed the brass key to Luca.
"You do it, Oliver," Luca said gently, lifting the boy up so he could reach the keyhole. "This belonged to your father. It's yours to open."
Oliver's small fingers inserted the key into Box 409 and turned it clockwise.
With a heavy click, the long metal drawer popped open.
Luca pulled the metal box from the wall and placed it on the viewing table.
Inside lay three thick manila envelopes, a leather-bound journal, and an encrypted black USB drive.
Luca opened the first envelope.
It contained bank statements proving that Salvatore Bellini had stolen over fifty million dollars from syndicate pension funds and laundered it through offshore shell companies.
"This is enough to turn every family in the country against the Bellinis," Luca whispered in triumph.
I reached into the box and picked up the leather journal.
Pressed between the pages was a photograph.
It was a picture of me holding newborn Oliver in the hospital room, with Matteo smiling behind us, his arm wrapped around our shoulders.
Tears blurred my vision as I traced Matteo's face with my fingertips.
"Look here," Luca called out, his voice sharp with excitement.
He had plugged the black USB drive into a portable tablet computer he carried in his briefcase.
A folder popped up on the screen, labeled: TO BE OPENED ONLY BY LUCA.
Luca clicked the file.
May you like
A video player appeared on the screen, buffering for three agonizing seconds.
And then, the face of Matteo Moretti filled the display.
