Chapter 6 - What Was Hidden Beneath the Flour Tin

Isabella’s old Milwaukee house had been empty for six weeks.

The furniture wore white sheets.

Dust softened the windows.

But the kitchen looked almost untouched.

Same yellow cabinets.

Same narrow counter.

Same corner where Luca had once sat stealing uncooked noodles.

Emma watched him pause in the doorway.

He was no longer thirty-four.

For one second, he was the boy from the photograph.

Isabella opened the pantry.

“Salvatore said kitchen.”

“More specific?”

“He refused over the phone.”

Luca started with drawers.

Emma checked cabinets.

Marco searched behind appliances.

Isabella stood still.

Then smiled faintly.

“Domenico hated baking.”

Everyone looked at her.

“He used to complain flour got on his suits.”

She reached for an old metal flour tin.

Inside was no flour.

Only a sealed plastic bag.

A silver falcon pin.

Bent.

Darkened with age.

And a folded strip of fabric.

Black wool.

Luca took the pin.

One edge was scratched.

Salvatore had been right.

Isabella opened the fabric.

A dried brown stain marked one corner.

Emma did not ask.

Marco did.

“Evidence?”

“Maybe,” Luca said.

“After eleven years?”

“Enough to compare.”

There was something else in the bag.

A tiny key.

Smaller than the bank key.

Hotel-style numbering engraved into it.

317.

Isabella frowned.

“I’ve never seen that.”

Emma turned the tag over.

Three letters.

GHT.

Luca recognized them.

“Grand Harbor Terminal.”

Marco looked up.

“Old port offices.”

“Closed eight years ago.”

Luca pocketed the key.

His phone vibrated.

Unknown number.

He answered.

Domenico.

“Luca.”

The voice was calm.

Almost affectionate.

That made it worse.

“Where are you?”

“You always ask the wrong question first.”

Luca looked at Marco.

Trace.

Marco nodded.

Domenico continued.

“You found the box.”

“Yes.”

“And the tape.”

“Yes.”

A pause.

“Your father was dramatic.”

“My father was right.”

“About some things.”

“You killed him.”

Isabella closed her eyes.

Domenico sighed.

“You think life is clean because you inherited power after the blood was already dry.”

“Say it again.”

“What?”

“That he was right.”

Domenico laughed softly.

“You sound like Antonio.”

Luca’s hand tightened around the phone.

“Where are you?”

“Closer than you think.”

The call ended.

Marco shook his head.

“Burner. Moving.”

Emma looked toward the back window.

A black sedan passed the house slowly.

Once.

Then continued.

“Marco.”

He had seen it too.

Two guards moved outside.

No attack came.

Only a message.

We can reach you.

Isabella sat down.

“I want this finished.”

Luca turned.

“It will be.”

“No.”

She looked at him.

“Not your way.”

He understood.

“You think I’m going to kill him.”

“I think you have spent eleven years becoming harder than your father wanted you to be.”

Silence.

Emma watched Luca absorb that.

Isabella continued.

“Antonio wanted proof. That is why he made copies. That is why he recorded Domenico. He wanted truth stronger than revenge.”

Luca looked at the silver pin.

Marco entered from the hall.

“Boss. We found something on Grand Harbor Terminal.”

“What?”

“Office 317 still exists.”

“Owner?”

“Shell company.”

“Connected to?”

Marco glanced at Emma.

“Domenico.”

Luca reached for his coat.

Isabella stood.

“You are not going alone.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

She looked at Emma.

“Neither is she.”

Luca frowned.

“Emma stays here.”

Emma’s eyebrows rose.

“Excuse me?”

“It is not safe.”

“You brought me to Milwaukee.”

“That was before Domenico called.”

Emma folded her arms.

“And who noticed the bank initials?”

Luca said nothing.

“Who brought you the soup?”

Silence.

“Who saw Belini’s fear before you did?”

Marco suddenly became interested in the floor.

Luca stared at Emma.

“You are my employee.”

“No.”

Emma’s answer surprised both of them.

“I was your employee when this started.”

She pointed toward the flour tin.

“Now I am a witness.”

Luca’s expression shifted.

Isabella almost smiled.

“Your father liked her kind of stubborn.”

Luca looked at his mother.

“That is not helping.”

“It wasn’t meant to.”

Twenty minutes later, Luca, Emma, Marco, and two trusted men drove toward Grand Harbor Terminal.

Office 317 sat at the end of a dark corridor above the abandoned loading floor.

The tiny key turned.

Inside was a desk.

A filing cabinet.

An old tape recorder.

And one wall covered in photographs.

Luca.

Isabella.

Belini.

The mansion.

The engagement dinner.

Emma stopped.

There were photographs of her too.

Leaving the grocery store.

Taking the bus.

Entering the mansion months earlier.

“What the hell?”

Luca’s face changed.

Domenico had not started watching Emma tonight.

He had been watching her for weeks.

Pinned beneath her photograph was a note.

Find out what the maid knows.

Emma looked at Luca.

“I didn’t know anything.”

Luca stared at the wall.

“No.”

His eyes moved to a photograph of Emma speaking to Isabella outside a church three months earlier.

“You knew my mother before tonight.”

Emma went still.

Isabella had never mentioned it.

Neither had Emma.

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Luca slowly turned toward her.

“Start talking.”