Chapter 19 - The West Wing Secret|
Thirty minutes later, three black armored SUVs tore through the gates of the DeLuca estate, their sirens wailing into the quiet night air.
The estate was surrounded by state troopers and emergency vehicles.
Gabriel, holding my hand tightly, led Sophie and me through the grand foyer toward the west wing—the section of the house that had remained closed since Isabella’s departure six weeks ago.
Daniel met us at the entrance of the west wing salon, his face grim, holding a silver metallic briefcase.
“Did you find a bomb?” Gabriel demanded, his voice terrifyingly calm.
“No bomb, Boss,” Daniel reported. “It wasn't an explosive. It was something else.”
Daniel opened the silver briefcase on a side table.
Inside sat a heavy, antique iron box wrapped in dark leather straps, stamped with an old Italian crest—the crest of the Marconi syndicate from Palermo, dating back eighty years.
“Isabella’s father had a secondary safe hidden beneath the floorboards under the grand piano,” Daniel explained. “When we cut the iron lock, we found this inside.”
Gabriel stepped forward, leaning over the iron box.
Inside sat three black leather ledgers, a thumb drive, and a stack of old, yellowed letters bearing the official seal of the Chicago Police Department from twenty years ago.
Gabriel picked up the top letter. As he read the official blue ink, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his throat.
“What is it, Gabriel?” I asked softly, resting my hand on his broad shoulder.
May you like
Gabriel looked up at me, his eyes holding a dark, shocking revelation that threatened to rewrite everything we knew about his past.
“It isn't about my wife's crash,” Gabriel whispered raspy. “It’s about my father’s death twenty years ago.”
