Chapter 3 - The Missing Bloodline
Salvatore returned to the Russo property before sunrise.
Emery was asleep upstairs.
Anna had placed the broken rocking horse beside the guest-room fireplace.
Salvatore stood over it for several minutes.
Yesterday it had been a sentimental toy.
Now it appeared to be the center of a war Vittorio had prepared for long before his death.
Carlo poured coffee.
“Start from the beginning.”
Salvatore told him everything Marcello had revealed.
Carlo listened without interrupting.
When Salvatore finished, Carlo leaned back.
“So Emery may be the senior blood heir to the entire DeLuca family.”
“Yes.”
“And Francesca has the second key needed to access the evidence.”
“Yes.”
“And Dante knows at least part of this.”
“Yes.”
Carlo took a drink.
“Merry Christmas.”
Salvatore almost laughed.
Almost.
Marcello had followed them back.
He spread several old documents across the kitchen table.
The first was a family charter written in 1924.
The second was a sealed amendment signed by Salvatore’s great-grandfather.
The third was an incomplete genealogy.
One name had been removed.
Alessandro DeLuca.
Salvatore touched the faded paper.
“My entire life, I was told Dad was the oldest child.”
Marcello shook his head.
“Vittorio was the second son.”
“Why erase Alessandro?”
“Because he married someone your grandfather considered unacceptable.”
“Who?”
“A schoolteacher named Elena Moretti.”
Salvatore waited.
“That was enough?”
“In that generation, sometimes.”
Marcello looked uncomfortable.
“There was another reason.”
Salvatore already hated the sentence.
“What?”
“Elena knew how the original shipping business obtained some of its contracts.”
Salvatore understood.
“She threatened the family.”
“She threatened your grandfather.”
“Why?”
“Because he tried to force Alessandro to abandon her.”
Salvatore looked down.
“What happened?”
“They left.”
“Where?”
“California first.”
“Then?”
“Different places.”
“Why didn’t Alessandro come back after my grandfather died?”
Marcello hesitated.
“He did.”
Salvatore looked up.
“When?”
“1987.”
“I was alive.”
“You were four.”
“Did Dad know?”
Marcello nodded.
“Vittorio met him privately.”
“Then why keep him erased?”
“Alessandro asked him to.”
Salvatore frowned.
“That makes no sense.”
“It did to Alessandro.”
Marcello explained that Alessandro had built a quiet life far from DeLuca wealth.
He had a daughter.
She had a son.
That son eventually had Emery’s biological mother.
None of them wanted involvement with the family.
Until tragedy changed everything.
Emery’s biological mother, Sofia Marin, died in a highway accident when Emery was nine months old.
Sofia’s husband had died before Emery was born.
There were no close relatives willing to take the child.
Vittorio learned about Emery through an investigator he had quietly retained to track Alessandro’s line.
Salvatore remembered the day his father first mentioned her.
“You should meet this child.”
That had been all Vittorio said.
Salvatore had recently lost his wife Lucia to cancer.
They had never been able to have children.
Salvatore had been drowning in grief.
He initially refused.
Vittorio persisted.
Eventually Salvatore visited the foundation.
Emery was eighteen months old.
She had walked directly toward him and handed him a broken yellow crayon.
Salvatore had never recovered.
Within a year, he began adoption proceedings.
He thought Vittorio had simply brought them together.
Now he understood.
His father had reunited two branches of the family without telling either side.
Salvatore rubbed his eyes.
“Why didn’t Dad just tell me?”
“Because he did not want you adopting Emery for her blood.”
Marcello’s answer came immediately.
Salvatore looked at him.
“He wanted you to choose her because you loved her.”
Silence followed.
Salvatore looked toward the stairs.
That sounded exactly like Vittorio.
Carlo spoke.
“So when did Francesca find out?”
Marcello’s expression darkened.
“Six months before Vittorio died.”
“How?”
“Dante intercepted payments to the investigator.”
Salvatore’s jaw tightened.
“What did they learn?”
“That Vittorio had been tracing a hidden branch.”
“Did they identify Emery?”
“Eventually.”
Salvatore closed his eyes.
That explained the gradual change.
For years, Francesca had treated Emery with cold indifference.
Six months before Vittorio’s death, the indifference became hostility.
She stopped inviting Emery to family lunches.
She removed Emery’s photograph from the library.
She objected when Vittorio allowed the girl to sit beside him.
Salvatore had assumed Francesca was jealous because Vittorio adored his granddaughter.
It had been much darker than jealousy.
Carlo tapped the family charter.
“What does the senior bloodline actually inherit?”
Marcello looked toward Salvatore.
“Potentially everything controlled by the Founders Trust.”
“How much?”
“Depending on current valuation, roughly two point six billion dollars.”
Salvatore stared at him.
Carlo slowly set down his coffee.
“That would explain some enthusiasm.”
Salvatore’s voice became cold.
“My daughter is seven.”
“Which is why Vittorio changed the governance structure.”
Marcello produced another paper.
“If Emery is confirmed as Alessandro’s surviving descendant, all voting control passes into a protected trust until she reaches thirty.”
“Who controls the trust?”
“Three trustees.”
“Who?”
“Vittorio selected them.”
Marcello pointed toward himself.
“I am one.”
“Who else?”
“Judge Helena Ward.”
Salvatore knew the name.
A retired federal judge.
“And the third?”
Marcello hesitated.
“You.”
Salvatore stared at him.
“So Dad intended me to protect her inheritance.”
“He intended you to protect her.”
Salvatore looked again at the documents.
“And Francesca?”
“She receives nothing from the Founders Trust if the senior line is restored.”
“Dante?”
“Nothing.”
Salvatore finally understood the terror on their faces.
It was not merely about Emery receiving wealth.
Her existence could expose their theft, strip Francesca of control, remove Dante from the companies, and reopen decades of hidden family history.
Carlo leaned forward.
“What is the second key?”
Marcello reached into his bag.
He removed a photograph.
It showed Francesca wearing a gold pendant at Vittorio’s funeral.
Salvatore recognized it.
“She wears that constantly.”
Marcello pointed toward the pendant.
“It is not jewelry.”
Salvatore looked closer.
The pendant contained a strange geometric center.
“A key.”
“Yes.”
“Why give it to her?”
“Vittorio did not.”
Salvatore frowned.
“Then how did she get it?”
Marcello took a breath.
“She stole it from his body before the funeral.”
Salvatore stared at him.
“What?”
“I noticed it was missing afterward.”
“And you said nothing?”
“I had no proof.”
“You’re telling me my mother took something from my father’s body?”
“Yes.”
Salvatore stood abruptly.
Carlo reached toward him.
“Where are you going?”
“To get it.”
Marcello stood too.
“You cannot walk into the estate and demand it.”
“Watch me.”
“She knows what it opens.”
“Good.”
“She may destroy it.”
“Then I won’t ask.”
Carlo shook his head.
“That woman is currently expecting you.”
Salvatore stopped.
Carlo continued.
“She knows you found Marcello.”
“Probably.”
“She knows you escaped the men Dante sent.”
“Yes.”
“And she knows the only reason you would come back is the pendant.”
Salvatore stared toward the window.
Snow covered the fields.
He hated admitting Carlo was right.
Marcello gathered the papers.
“There may be another way.”
“What?”
“Tonight Francesca is hosting the St. Stephen’s charity gala.”
Salvatore almost laughed.
“My mother shoved a child onto the floor yesterday, and tonight she’s hosting a charity gala.”
“Your family does appreciate irony.”
Salvatore looked at him.
Marcello shrugged.
“I knew your father for thirty years.”
Salvatore thought about the gala.
Almost four hundred guests would attend.
Security would be everywhere.
Francesca would almost certainly wear the pendant.
Salvatore could get close to her without raising immediate suspicion.
Carlo understood his expression.
“No.”
Salvatore looked at him.
“You don’t even know what I’m thinking.”
“You have the same expression every stubborn man has before a terrible plan.”
Marcello spoke.
“It may actually work.”
Carlo groaned.
“Of course the formerly dead lawyer likes it.”
Salvatore ignored them.
He checked his phone.
There were thirteen missed calls from Francesca.
He called her back.
She answered on the first ring.
“Where is Emery?”
Salvatore’s expression changed.
“You don’t get to ask me that.”
“I am her grandmother.”
“You made your opinion about that relationship clear.”
Francesca’s voice softened.
“Yesterday became emotional.”
“You threw her onto the floor.”
“She took my chair.”
“She is seven.”
“That ring has confused everyone.”
Salvatore glanced at Marcello.
“Has it?”
Francesca went silent.
Salvatore continued.
“Why were Dante’s men following me?”
“They were concerned.”
“They followed us through three towns.”
“Dante can be overprotective.”
“Dante has never protected anyone but Dante.”
Francesca exhaled.
“I want this ugliness to end.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me what Ravenna is.”
Silence.
Francesca finally laughed.
“You always did enjoy your father’s riddles.”
Salvatore knew she was stalling.
“Are you wearing Dad’s pendant tonight?”
The silence changed.
Francesca’s voice became very quiet.
“What pendant?”
Salvatore smiled.
“You answered my question.”
He ended the call.
Marcello looked at him.
“She knows.”
“Yes.”
Carlo crossed his arms.
“You’re still going.”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re not going alone.”
That evening, the DeLuca estate looked untouched by the previous night.
Hundreds of candles illuminated the stone entrance.
Luxury cars moved through the circular drive.
A chamber orchestra played Christmas music inside.
Francesca stood beneath the grand staircase greeting guests.
She wore emerald silk.
And the gold pendant hung against her throat.
Dante remained beside her.
Salvatore entered alone.
At least, that was what Francesca believed.
Carlo and two members of his security team entered through the catering wing using credentials Marcello had arranged.
Salvatore crossed the ballroom.
Conversations quieted around him.
Everyone had heard some version of what happened at Christmas dinner.
Francesca smiled publicly.
“Salvatore.”
He kissed her cheek for appearances.
Her smile remained frozen.
“Where is Emery?”
“Safe.”
“She should be with family.”
“She is.”
Francesca’s eyes flashed.
Dante stepped closer.
“Can we speak privately?”
“No.”
“Salvatore.”
“No.”
He looked at the pendant.
Francesca touched it instinctively.
Salvatore noticed.
“I want what Dad left me.”
Francesca’s smile vanished.
“He left you enough.”
“Apparently not.”
Dante looked around.
“Not here.”
Salvatore stepped closer to his mother.
“Did you take it from his body?”
For the first time, Francesca looked genuinely shaken.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Marcello remembers.”
Dante’s face went white.
Francesca’s eyes widened.
Salvatore watched realization spread through them.
Marcello was alive.
Dante whispered.
“That old bastard.”
Salvatore heard.
“So you knew he was supposed to be gone.”
Dante immediately stepped back.
Francesca grabbed Salvatore’s arm.
“Come upstairs.”
He allowed her to lead him into the private library.
Dante followed.
The door closed.
Francesca turned.
“What has Marcello told you?”
“Enough.”
“You believe him?”
“I believe Dad.”
“Your father became paranoid.”
“Interesting.”
Salvatore looked at Dante.
“That is exactly what both of you said about him yesterday.”
Dante stepped forward.
“Because it is true.”
Salvatore smiled.
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
Francesca’s fingers closed around the pendant.
Salvatore watched.
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
“It wasn’t yours.”
“Vittorio gave it to me.”
“Marcello says you took it.”
“Marcello lies.”
“Then prove him wrong.”
Francesca glared at him.
“No.”
Salvatore nodded slowly.
“All right.”
He turned toward the door.
Dante frowned.
“That’s it?”
Salvatore opened the door.
“Yes.”
Francesca seemed suspicious.
“What are you doing?”
“Leaving.”
He walked back into the gala.
Francesca looked toward Dante.
Neither noticed the tiny black device attached beneath the library table.
Carlo had placed it there twenty minutes earlier.
Salvatore moved toward the front entrance.
His earpiece crackled.
Carlo’s voice came through.
“Keep walking.”
Salvatore did.
Behind him, the library door closed again.
Then Francesca’s voice appeared clearly in his ear.
“He knows about the pendant.”
Dante answered.
“Then Ravenna is compromised.”
“What do we do?”
“Move the documents tonight.”
Salvatore stopped walking.
Francesca whispered.
“We can’t without the ring.”
Dante answered.
“We don’t need to open Ravenna.”
A pause followed.
“We only need to burn the building around it.”
Salvatore slowly turned back toward the library.
Carlo spoke in his ear.
“Now we know Ravenna is a place.”
Dante continued.
“There is one problem.”
Francesca asked.
“What?”
“Emery.”
Salvatore’s blood went cold.
Dante’s next sentence removed every remaining doubt.
May you like
“As long as that girl is alive, Vittorio’s plan can still destroy us.”
---
