Chapter 20 - The Secret in the Floorboards
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The weight of the discovery crushed the air out of the garage.
Luca Moretti had spent his entire life trying to live up to the honorable legacy of his father. He had sat in this very room, teaching his son about loyalty, hard work, and keeping your word. And the entire time, they had been standing on a foundation built on theft and blackmail.
“Dad?” Matteo asked softly, sensing his father’s world completely shattering. “Is everything okay?”
Luca looked down at his twelve-year-old son. He looked at the boy who had lovingly carved a box out of scrap wood just to feel closer to a grandfather he idolized.
Luca quickly closed the ledger and tossed it back into the bag with the stolen gold.
“Everything is fine, buddy,” Luca lied smoothly, forcing a gentle smile onto his face. He picked up the burned wooden box from the bench, the box I had pulled from the fire, and placed it carefully on the highest shelf in the garage.
“Your grandfather left us a mess,” Luca said, turning to look at me, a silent promise passing between us. “But we’re going to clean it up.”
I nodded, my bandaged hand throbbing in rhythm with my racing heart. Luca was going to destroy the ledger. He was going to give the gold back, or throw it in the lake. He was going to protect his son from the bloody truth of their family’s history.
But as Luca reached down to pull up another loose floorboard to ensure nothing else was hidden, a shadow fell across the open doorway of the garage.
The morning fog swirled into the room, carrying the freezing scent of the lake.
Bruno stood in the doorway, his face pale, his hand resting tightly on the grip of his holstered weapon. He wasn't looking at the gold. He was looking at Luca.
“Boss,” Bruno said, his voice tight with an unprecedented panic. “We have a problem.”
Luca stood up slowly, the crowbar still in his hand. “What is it, Bruno?”
Bruno swallowed hard, looking over his shoulder toward the main gates.
“Vanessa didn't just come to warn you,” Bruno said grimly. “She came to distract us.”
The faint, unmistakable sound of a dozen heavy engines roaring up the private driveway echoed through the fog. The Falcone family hadn't waited for the floorboards to come up. They had come to take it back themselves.
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Luca looked at the gold, then at his son, and finally at me. He gripped the crowbar tight, stepping between us and the door.
The war hadn't been avoided. It had just arrived at the front door.
