Chapter 5
The crypt door sat behind the chapel altar.
Of course it did.
Because apparently the Duca family did not believe in keeping secrets anywhere normal, like filing cabinets or group therapy.
The brass key shook in my hand.
Lorenzo stood beside me, silent and furious.
Rosa sat in the front pew with Marco guarding her.
Dominic Romano kept his hands visible because every man in the room wanted a reason to hate him more.
I wanted to run into the crypt.
I also wanted to run back to Milwaukee, curl under my bakery counter, and pretend I had never met a man who owned secret family burial rooms.
Lorenzo looked down at me.
“You are not going alone.”
“Ethan said—”
“Ethan is a worm with a phone.”
“That worm has Bianca.”
“And he wants you isolated.”
“Yes,” I snapped. “Because everyone wants me isolated. Ethan. Whoever sent the photos. Whoever broke into my bakery. Whoever killed my father.”
My voice cracked on father.
Lorenzo softened.
Just barely.
“I know.”
“You don’t.”
His eyes stayed on mine.
“No. I don’t.”
That honesty stopped me.
He did not pretend.
I hated how much I liked that.
Dominic stepped forward.
“Ethan won’t kill Bianca immediately. He needs leverage.”
Lorenzo turned on him.
“You lost the right to comfort anyone.”
Dominic flinched.
“I know.”
Rosa whispered, “Let him speak.”
Lorenzo looked at her.
His face changed.
Hurt.
Not anger.
Hurt.
“Did you know?”
Rosa bowed her head.
“I knew Patrick had evidence against your father.”
“And the brides?”
“I received warnings. Photos. Threats. I paid men to trace them. Every time, the woman left before I could stop it.”
“You never told me.”
“I thought knowing would break you.”
Lorenzo laughed once.
“Instead you let silence do it slowly.”
Rosa cried harder.
I could not comfort her.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
I opened the crypt door.
A cold stone stairway descended into darkness.
Marco handed me a flashlight.
Lorenzo took it and stepped first.
I grabbed his sleeve.
“If I fall, I’m blaming the architecture.”
His mouth twitched.
“Fair.”
We descended together.
At the bottom, the crypt opened into a low room lined with old marble plaques.
Duca names.
Dates.
Dust.
One newer wall looked wrong.
Too smooth.
Too clean.
My key fit a small iron box mounted beside it.
Inside was another phone.
It rang the second I touched it.
Ethan’s voice filled the chamber.
“Good girl.”
I closed my eyes.
Lorenzo’s face went murderous.
I answered, “I’m here.”
“Put Lorenzo on.”
“No.”
A pause.
“You’ve gotten bold.”
“I’ve gotten bored of men giving instructions.”
Lorenzo looked at me like I had said something dangerous and wonderful.
Ethan’s voice hardened.
“Open the wall panel.”
I found the seam behind a marble plaque.
Lorenzo pushed it open.
Inside was a metal case.
My father’s initials were scratched on it.
P.C.
My knees nearly gave out.
I opened it.
Documents.
Photos.
A flash drive.
And a letter addressed to me.
Milly,
If you are reading this, I failed to come home with the truth.
My father was the only person who called me Milly.
The room blurred.
Lorenzo quietly steadied the case.
Not me.
The case.
Letting me decide whether to lean.
I read.
The Duca empire is being hollowed out from inside. Vittorio built a trafficking route through shipping contracts, charity food programs, and fake shelter deliveries. I found names. Children. Women. Workers. If I expose it wrong, Lorenzo dies. If I hide it, others do.
I covered my mouth.
Lorenzo went still as stone.
His father.
His empire.
His name.
My father continued.
Rosa knows part of this. Not all. Trust her heart, but not her silence. If Lorenzo grows into the man I think he can become, give him the ledger. If not, burn everything and run.
I looked up at him.
His face was pale.
“He trusted you,” I whispered.
“He did not know me.”
“Maybe he saw enough.”
Ethan spoke through the phone.
“Touching. Now bring me the drive.”
“No,” Lorenzo said.
Ethan laughed.
“There he is. The monster voice.”
Bianca whimpered in the background.
Ethan continued.
“Here’s the problem. The drive proves Vittorio Duca was a devil. It also proves Rosa helped bury the first investigation. If it goes public, Lorenzo loses legitimacy. His men turn. His enemies move. Amelia dies in the crossfire.”
I stared at Rosa’s name in my father’s letter.
Trust her heart, but not her silence.
“Why did you send the photos?” I asked.
Ethan went quiet.
“I didn’t.”
Lorenzo and I looked at each other.
“Then who did?” I asked.
A new voice answered from the phone.
Bianca.
Tape removed.
Breathing hard.
“I did.”
My pulse stopped.
“I left the envelope.”
Lorenzo whispered, “Bianca.”
She sobbed.
“I tried to warn every bride. I thought if they left, he’d stop bringing women into the trap.”
“Who trapped you?” I asked.
Bianca cried harder.
“My father. Rosa. Vittorio’s old men. All of them. But Ethan found me first.”
A crash sounded through the phone.
Ethan cursed.
Bianca screamed.
The call died.
Lorenzo grabbed the case.
May you like
I grabbed the letter.
Above us, gunfire cracked through the chapel.
