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THE GHOST WEARING WHITE: How I Tricked a Mafia Empire to Hunt My Sister’s Killer / Chapter 5 / 6

Chapter 5 - The Snake in the Sanctuary

Darkness.

Then, the smell of ammonia.

I gasped, my lungs burning as I sat up. I was in a dimly lit basement room, strapped to a heavy wooden chair. The green silk gown was torn at the shoulder, and my left arm was completely numb, bound to the armrest with thick leather straps.

"Ah, she’s awake," a voice said from the shadows.

It wasn't Gabriel.

Franco Rinaldi stepped into the light of a single, swinging bulb. He held a syringe in his hand, his expression calm, almost fatherly.

"You have your mother's eyes, Lauren," Franco said softly. "I knew her, you know. Before she fled to America. She was a brilliant operative. It’s a pity she taught you so well, yet not well enough."

"You," I whispered, my tongue feeling thick and heavy. "You killed Natalie."

"I did," Franco admitted without a shred of remorse. "She was getting too close to the truth. She found out I was working with the Morettis to retire Gabriel. Gabriel is a romantic; he wants to legitimize the family, to go clean. That would ruin everything I’ve built over forty years."

"So you poisoned the ring?"

"The ring was always my backup plan," Franco smiled. "I had the jeweler install a pressure-sensitive micro-needle containing a paralytic toxin. I knew Gabriel would give it to you. He is so beautifully predictable."

"And Rachel Bell?" I asked, trying to buy time as I secretly worked my right hand—the one that wasn't completely numb—toward the hairpin hidden in my styled hair. "The email she sent me... that was you too."

"Of course," Franco chuckled. "I needed you here. Natalie's death was ruled an accident, but Gabriel was still suspicious. I needed a scapegoat. When I found out Natalie had an identical twin, I realized I had the perfect patsy. I was going to frame you for Natalie’s murder, claiming you killed her out of jealousy to take her place as Gabriel’s queen."

"It’s a good plan," I said, my fingers finally catching the edge of the metal hairpin. My father’s lesson: Always keep a lockpick in your hair, even at a wedding. "But you made one mistake."

"And what is that?"

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The notification light on my phone blinked a furious, rhythmic amber. Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six missed calls. Ryan’s texts were no longer polite; they were mutating into panicked, all-caps demands. “Mom is crying hysterically. The bank is threatening default. What kind of monster cuts off a widow? PICK UP THE PHONE.”

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"You assumed I came here alone."

The heavy steel door of the basement blew open with a deafening explosion.

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