Chapter 4 - The Sins of the Father
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The grandfather clock in the corner of the study chimed eleven times, its steady ticking sounding like a countdown to execution.
Vanessa wept uncontrollably on the Persian rug, but no one in the room offered her a shred of sympathy.
I finished applying fresh white gauze to Eleanor's hands, securing the tape with steady, careful fingers.
"Thank you, Claire," Eleanor whispered, patting my arm with genuine affection.
"You have the exact same gentle touch your grandmother used to have."
I paused, confused by her strange remark, but the tension in the room quickly pulled my attention back to Luca.
Luca walked behind his desk and opened a hidden wall safe concealed behind an oil painting of the Chicago skyline.
He pulled out a heavy black leather ledger that had belonged to his late father, Marco Moretti.
"My father died four years ago of heart failure," Luca said, flipping through pages of yellowed handwriting.
"Before he took his last breath, he handed me this book and told me never to trust the Sterlings."
He slammed the ledger onto the desk, pointing to a series of coded bank transfers dating back to nineteen ninety-eight.
"I thought these were standard extortion payoffs," Luca said, his eyes scanning the ledger.
"Eleanor, explain to me how my father could shake Arthur Sterling's hand after he murdered my mother."
Eleanor leaned back against the cushions, closing her eyes as the haunting memories of that night returned.
"Your father didn't know the truth until three days after the fire," she said, her voice heavy with sorrow.
"Arthur Sterling walked into Marco's office carrying a piece of your scorched childhood jacket."
Eleanor took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing.
"Arthur told your father that he had an army of snipers trained on your hospital room."
"He told Marco that if he went to the police, or retaliated with mob violence, you would not live to see your twelfth birthday."
Luca's hands clenched into fists so tight that his knuckles turned ghostly white.
"My father swallowed his pride and played the coward for twenty-six years just to keep me breathing," Luca murmured in realization.
"Yes," Eleanor confirmed, opening her eyes to look at the tormented man standing before her.
"Marco hated himself every single day of his life, but he protected you until his heart literally gave out."
Eleanor shifted slightly, the rough fabric of her uniform collar pulling down to reveal her own weathered skin.
"And there was one more reason Marco stayed silent," Eleanor added, her gaze suddenly shifting toward me.
"He had to protect the child Arthur Sterling never managed to find."
A strange silence descended upon the room, thicker and heavier than before.
Vanessa stopped her sobbing and slowly lifted her head from the floor, her eyes wide with shock.
"What child?" Luca demanded, stepping around the desk until he was standing right beside Eleanor's sofa.
"Eleanor, what are you talking about?"
Eleanor pointed a bandaged, trembling finger directly at the center of my chest.
"The locket she is wearing around her neck," Eleanor said, her voice shaking with an emotion that sent chills through my soul.
I instinctively reached up with one hand, feeling the small, cold silver oval hidden beneath my waitress blouse.
"My locket?" I asked, completely bewildered by the sudden attention.
"I grew up in the Saint Jude Orphanage on the West Side, Eleanor."
"This locket was the only thing found pinned to my baby blanket when someone left me on the church steps."
Eleanor looked up at Luca, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
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"Tell him what is engraved on the back of that pendant, Claire," Eleanor said softly.
"Show him the phoenix rising from the ashes."
