Chapter 13 - THE FIRE THAT ALMOST TOOK EVERYTHING|
For one terrible moment, nobody moved.
The fire alarm screamed above our heads.
Thick gray smoke curled beneath the basement door.
And somewhere outside, Victor Sloane was laughing.
Then Detective Ortiz grabbed her radio.
"Fire at Frank's Table!"
"Possible arson in progress!"
"Multiple people inside!"
Luca turned toward his mother.
"Get her out."
Mrs. Marino took Rosa's arm and began guiding her toward the dining room.
One of the officers followed with the evidence case Ortiz had just documented.
But before they reached the hallway, a wave of smoke rolled through the ceiling vents.
I began coughing.
The smell of burning wood and chemicals filled my lungs.
Everything was happening too quickly.
"Claire!" Luca shouted.
"Stay with me!"
I covered my mouth with my sleeve.
The main hallway was already becoming difficult to see.
A stack of renovation materials had been pushed against the front passage earlier that morning.
Now the smoke was thickening around them.
"There's another exit!" Mrs. Marino cried.
"Through the old bakery!"
She pointed toward a narrow door behind the pantry shelves.
I remembered seeing it in Vanessa's photograph.
Frank had once used that passage to carry bread outside before the restaurant opened.
Luca helped Rosa through the doorway.
Ortiz stayed behind long enough to confirm that everyone was following.
We moved along a short corridor lined with dusty storage cabinets.
At the far end, a metal door led toward the rear loading area.
But when Luca reached it, he found the handle wouldn't turn.
He tried again.
The door rattled violently.
Victor had secured it from outside.
"He's locked us in!" I cried.
Luca stepped backward.
For a moment, I saw the familiar dangerous expression settle across his face.
It was the look I'd seen whenever someone threatened his family.
But this time, anger couldn't open the door.
"Find another way," Ortiz ordered.
Mrs. Marino pointed toward a high window above the old delivery counter.
"It opens into the alley."
Marco, who had entered the restaurant with the security team earlier, climbed onto the counter and pushed the window upward.
Cold air rushed inside.
He lowered himself into the alley, then helped Mrs. Marino through.
The officers assisted Rosa while Ortiz directed the evacuation.
I was preparing to climb through when I heard something crash behind us.
I turned.
Luca had fallen to one knee.
A section of shelving had collapsed near the pantry entrance, sending broken wood and plaster across the floor.
"Mr. Moretti!"
I ran toward him.
He tried to stand, but his foot was trapped beneath a heavy metal support.
Smoke filled the passageway.
The heat was becoming unbearable.
"Go!" he shouted.
"I'm not leaving you!"
"Claire, that's an order!"
I looked directly into his eyes.
"Then you're going to have to fire me."
For one brief second, even surrounded by smoke, he almost smiled.
I grabbed a metal bar from the fallen shelf and wedged it beneath the support.
I had watched my grandfather use the same principle hundreds of times when lifting heavy machinery in his workshop.
I pushed down with all my strength.
The support shifted just enough for Luca to pull his foot free.
He caught my arm.
"Come on."
We stumbled toward the delivery window.
Marco reached inside to help me climb out.
Then Luca pulled himself through behind me.
The moment our feet touched the alley pavement, I collapsed against the brick wall.
Cold air filled my lungs.
Sirens were approaching from the next street.
Rosa hurried toward her son, crying.
"Luca!"
He embraced her tightly.
"I'm here, Mama."
"I'm here."
I looked at the restaurant.
Smoke poured from the rear doorway.
Firefighters were arriving, dragging hoses across the pavement.
For a terrible moment, I imagined Frank's papers disappearing into the flames.
Then Detective Ortiz approached us, holding the sealed evidence container.
"The documents are safe."
I burst into tears.
But our ordeal wasn't finished.
A shout came from the loading area behind the restaurant.
Victor Sloane had tried to escape through the neighboring construction yard.
During the confusion, a section of temporary scaffolding had collapsed.
Now he was pinned beneath a heavy metal frame near the building's burning exterior wall.
He screamed for help.
Luca heard him.
His entire body went still.
I looked toward the trapped man.
This was the person Anthony Russo said had murdered Frank Moretti.
The man who had threatened Rosa.
The man who had helped frame me.
And the man who had just tried to burn us alive.
Luca walked toward him.
"Luca!" I called.
He stopped beside the fallen scaffolding.
Victor looked up, his face twisted with pain.
"Help me!" Victor begged.
"Please!"
For a moment, I thought Luca might turn away.
After everything that had happened, nobody would have been surprised if he had felt nothing but hatred.
But Luca looked toward the approaching firefighters.
"There's a man trapped over here!" he shouted.
"He's still alive!"
Then he helped clear loose debris while the firefighters brought proper lifting equipment.
I watched in disbelief.
The man who had spent years being called Chicago's most feared mafia boss was helping save the person accused of murdering his father.
When the emergency crew finally pulled Victor free, police officers moved to secure him.
Victor looked at Luca with confusion.
"Why did you help me?" he whispered.
Luca stood over him, breathing heavily.
"Because my father taught me that a man's life isn't something you throw away when it becomes inconvenient."
Victor's expression changed.
He looked toward the burning restaurant.
Then he began shaking.
"It wasn't supposed to happen like this," he muttered.
"Angelo said Frank would sign."
"He said nobody would have to die."
Detective Ortiz heard the words.
She immediately directed the officers to document Victor's statement and preserve their recordings.
Victor seemed to realize what he'd said.
He fell silent.
But the damage was done.
He had connected Angelo Bellini to the confrontation that ended in Frank Moretti's death.
And now he faced a fresh investigation for the fire he'd allegedly started.
Later that afternoon, firefighters brought the blaze under control.
The basement was badly damaged, and part of the kitchen would need to be rebuilt.
But the structure remained standing.
Frank's Table had survived again.
At the hospital, doctors examined Luca's injured foot and treated us for smoke exposure.
Rosa refused to leave until she knew everyone was safe.
And when Evelyn arrived with news that the original property records had been secured, she found Luca sitting beside me in the emergency department.
He was holding my grandfather's copper key.
"Claire," he said quietly.
"Your grandfather saved this family twice."
I shook my head.
"He didn't do it alone."
Luca looked at me.
For the first time in five years, he wasn't looking at me as his housemaid.
He was looking at me as someone whose courage and choices mattered.
Then he gently placed the key in my palm.
"My father left the evidence."
"Your grandfather protected it."
"And you brought it home."
I closed my fingers around the key.
Outside the hospital window, Chicago's evening lights began appearing against the darkening sky.
The restaurant had survived.
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The evidence had survived.
And for the first time in twenty years, Anthony Russo had a real chance of surviving the injustice that had stolen half his life.
