Chapter 4 - THE CHURCH OF BURIED SECRETS
The abandoned church stood beneath the Brooklyn Bridge, hidden behind condemned warehouses and rusted fencing.
It had belonged to the Moretti family for nearly a century.
Weddings had been held there.
Baptisms.
Funerals.
According to Luca, confessions of a different kind had also occurred beneath its cracked stone roof.
Alessandro refused medical treatment until we were inside the armored vehicle.
The bullet had passed through the flesh above his hip.
Dr. Bellini’s assistant sealed the wound while Alessandro studied maps of the church.
“You need a hospital,” I said.
“So do you.”
“I am not bleeding.”
“You are breathing through a tube.”
“That makes me more qualified to notice when someone else is dying.”
His mouth almost moved toward a smile.
Almost.
“My sister is inside that church.”
“And Marcello wants us to rush toward her.”
“What choice do we have?”
“We give him what he believes he wants.”
“The drive?”
“A copy.”
Luca prepared one containing incomplete records.
Alessandro looked at me.
“You will remain in the vehicle.”
“No.”
“That was not a request.”
“Then it was wasted breath.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You have no weapon.”
“I have the real drive.”
“That makes you the most valuable target.”
“Which means Marcello will not kill me immediately.”
Luca muttered, “She argues like your mother.”
The vehicle became silent.
Alessandro turned toward him.
Luca looked out the window.
I asked quietly, “What was she like?”
Alessandro’s expression changed.
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
“She walked into rooms men believed they owned and made them apologize for standing in her way.”
“Then she was smarter than her son.”
Luca coughed again.
This time Alessandro did smile, though pain quickly erased it.
We arrived before dawn.
Snow covered the church steps.
The front doors stood open.
One light burned inside.
Marcello waited near the altar.
He wore a dark overcoat and carried no visible weapon.
Rosa sat bound to a chair beside him.
Her lip was split, but she was conscious.
“Sofia!” she screamed.
I moved forward.
Alessandro caught my wrist.
Marcello smiled.
“My nephew. Still entering traps for women.”
“Release her.”
“Give me Daniel’s drive.”
Luca held up the copy.
Marcello shook his head.
“Not from him.”
His gaze settled on me.
“The widow carries it.”
Alessandro’s grip tightened.
“How do you know?”
“Daniel always trusted women more than soldiers.”
I stepped into the church.
“Sofia,” Alessandro warned.
Marcello drew a gun and placed it against Rosa’s head.
“Let her come.”
I walked slowly down the aisle.
My legs shook from fever and fear.
The oxygen cylinder rolled behind me.
Rosa cried silently.
When I reached the altar, Marcello held out his free hand.
“The drive.”
“Release my sister first.”
“You are in no position to negotiate.”
“I am the only person who knows whether this is the real one.”
He studied me.
“You have more courage than your husband.”
“You knew Daniel?”
“I ordered his death.”
The words struck harder than any bullet.
Rosa made a broken sound.
Marcello continued calmly.
“He became sentimental. He thought evidence could redeem years of betrayal.”
“You sabotaged his van.”
“I arranged a mechanical failure.”
“Like Isabella’s disappearance?”
His eyes sharpened.
“So you watched the recording.”
“Where is her daughter?”
Marcello smiled.
“Alive.”
Alessandro stepped closer.
“Where?”
“Give me the drive.”
I removed it from my coat.
Before handing it over, I asked:
“Why did you arrange for Alessandro to find Emma?”
Marcello’s smile disappeared.
“Because an empire built on fear becomes vulnerable the moment its king discovers love.”
“You wanted him to believe she was his.”
“I wanted the Bellandis to believe it. I sold them her name, your name, and enough altered records to start a war.”
“Why?”
“To force Alessandro to choose between the organization and a child.”
Alessandro’s voice came from behind me.
“You expected me to sacrifice her.”
“I expected your men to see that you would not.”
Marcello looked toward Luca.
“Once loyalty doubts strength, the throne is already empty.”
Luca raised his weapon.
“My loyalty never belonged to you.”
“No. But many others’ does.”
Marcello gestured toward the dark balconies.
Armed men appeared above us.
Moretti soldiers.
Alessandro’s own men.
At least a dozen.
Luca’s face hardened.
Marcello had divided the organization from within.
“You see?” Marcello said. “They came because they understand what you forgot. A Moretti cannot have weaknesses.”
Alessandro moved in front of me.
“She is not my weakness.”
Marcello laughed.
“The child washed one shirt, and you brought half the city to war.”
“She exposed treason you spent years hiding.”
“She made you hesitate.”
“No.”
Alessandro looked toward the balconies.
“She made me remember who power is supposed to protect.”
Several men shifted.
Marcello’s eyes narrowed.
“Pretty words from a bleeding man.”
Alessandro removed his weapon and placed it on the church floor.
Luca stared at him.
“Boss.”
Alessandro ignored him.
“To every man standing above me,” he called, “Marcello told you I would destroy this family for a child.”
Silence answered.
“He is right.”
I turned toward him.
Marcello smiled.
Alessandro continued.
“If this family requires murdering women, selling children, and silencing men like Daniel Bianchi, then it deserves destruction.”
The smile vanished from Marcello’s face.
Alessandro looked up.
“You followed my father because he kept your families fed. You followed me because I kept your enemies afraid.”
His voice strengthened despite the blood staining his side.
“But if you follow Marcello, your daughters become bargaining pieces. Your wives become leverage. Your sons become bodies beneath bridges.”
One man on the balcony lowered his rifle.
Then another.
Marcello shouted:
“He is finished! Look at him!”
Alessandro spread his empty hands.
“Yes. Look at me.”
Every eye did.
“I am wounded because I stood between a bullet and a mother. I am unarmed because a child is watching the kind of man I choose to become.”
He looked directly at Marcello.
“If that makes me weak, decide now whether you prefer weakness or him.”
The church remained silent.
Then a rifle fell onto the stone floor.
Another followed.
Men stepped away from the balcony rails.
Marcello’s face twisted.
“You ungrateful dogs.”
He turned the gun toward me.
Rosa kicked the chair backward into his knees.
The shot went wide.
Alessandro lunged.
Marcello fired again.
Luca tackled Rosa aside.
I fell behind the altar.
Alessandro and Marcello crashed onto the steps.
Marcello struck Alessandro’s wound.
Blood darkened his shirt.
Alessandro nearly collapsed.
Marcello raised the gun.
Before he could fire, a small voice echoed from the church entrance.
“Stop!”
Every person froze.
Emma stood between two horrified guards.
She wore pink pajamas beneath an oversized coat.
The ruined white shirt was clutched in her hands.
My heart stopped.
“Emma!”
Dr. Bellini appeared behind her.
“She followed us into the second vehicle. We discovered her too late.”
Marcello aimed at her.
Alessandro moved despite the pain.
He stepped directly into the line of fire.
Emma stared at the weapon.
“Mister Wolf?”
Marcello laughed.
“There. Your weakness arrived.”
Alessandro looked at Emma.
His face softened.
“No,” he said. “My reason did.”
He charged.
The gun fired.
Alessandro spun and fell.
Luca shot Marcello once in the shoulder.
The weapon dropped.
Moretti soldiers surrounded him.
I ran toward Alessandro.
Emma reached him first.
Blood covered the front of his shirt.
The white shirt she had tried to clean.
“Mister Wolf, wake up.”
I pressed both hands against the wound.
“Call an ambulance!”
Alessandro’s eyes opened slightly.
He looked at Emma.
She touched his face.
“You do bad job?”
A breath of laughter escaped him.
“Yes, angel.”
“You get stain.”
“I know.”
“I wash.”
“No more cold water,” he whispered.
His eyes closed.
Emma began to cry.
“Mama says crying lets sad come out.”
I held pressure against the wound as sirens approached.
Marcello, restrained beside the altar, watched us with hatred.
Then Rosa saw something behind him.
A hidden door beneath the old choir stairs.
It stood partly open.
From the darkness beyond it came the sound of a child crying.
Not Emma.
May you like
Another little girl.
Alessandro’s eyes opened again.
