Chapter 3 - The Snake in the House
Lorenzo did not react immediately. A lifetime in the underworld had taught him that violent rage without timing was fatal.
"Emma," Lorenzo said softly, kneeling down to her level. "This is a beautiful drawing. Did you get this paper from the same box in the basement?"
"Yes!" Emma chirped. "The box under the big metal desk with the shiny lock! There are lots of papers with red stamps on them. I like the thick ones because my crayons don't bleed through!"
Lorenzo stood up and looked at Sarah, who was trembling. "Sarah. Take Emma to my private estate in Upstate New York immediately. Val will escort you. You will stay in the safehouse until I call for you."
"Mr. Duca... is something wrong?" Sarah whispered.
"No," Lorenzo said gently, stroking Emma’s hair. "Emma kept her side of the bargain. Now I must keep mine and protect her."
Ten minutes later, inside the back seat of his limousine, Lorenzo sat opposite Marco. The divider window was rolled up. The car glided through Manhattan traffic toward the Duca headquarters.
"You look tense, Marco," Lorenzo said casually, adjusting his cuff links.
"I am concerned for your safety, boss," Marco replied smoothly. "Bianchi’s men were spotted three blocks from the school. They are getting bold."
"Bianchi isn't bold, Marco. He’s predictable," Lorenzo said, leaning back. "He’s a scavenger. He only attacks when someone inside leaves the back door unlocked."
Marco’s posture stiffened slightly. "Are you implying there is a leak in our inner circle?"
"Fifteen years ago, when my father died in that warehouse," Lorenzo continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous baritone, "you were the only survivor. You told me the fire was caused by an incendiary grenade thrown by the Falcone family. You told me my father died protecting the ledger."
"He did," Marco said, his pulse visibly throbbing in his neck.
"Then why did I just find my father’s handwritten kill-order for you inside a box of papers my housekeeper’s daughter was using for coloring practice?"
The atmosphere inside the limousine shattered. Marco’s hand moved toward his shoulder holster with terrifying speed, but Lorenzo was faster. Lorenzo grabbed Marco’s wrist, twisting it violently until the bone popped, sending a suppressed pistol clattering to the leather floor.
Lorenzo pinned Marco against the door, his forearm crushing the older man’s throat.
"Isabella..." Lorenzo choked out, his eyes bloodshot with sudden realization. "Three years ago... the hit on the sidewalk. The shooter didn't miss me. Isabella was the target, wasn't she? Because she spent hours in the basement archives setting up her charity programs... She found the ledgers, didn't she?!"
Marco gasped for air, a sickening, desperate smile spreading across his face. "She... she was going to tell you... Lorenzo... You were becoming weak... just like your father... wanting to go legitimate..."
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Lorenzo slammed Marco’s head against the bulletproof glass. "You killed my wife. You killed my unborn child."
"If you kill me..." Marco wheezed, "Bianchi... and Falcone... already have the security codes to your estate... I gave them the green light twenty minutes ago... The moment I don't check in... they storm the upstate house to take the ledgers and kill the girl!"
