Chapter 3 - The Man Who Knew Her Father
The attack ended in less than 2 minutes.
Four men ran.
Two were captured.
One died before he could speak.
The last was dragged into the restaurant's wine cellar.
Khloe stood behind Enzo as Frankie secured the doors.
She had blood on her blouse.
Not hers.
She looked down at it.
Then at Enzo.
“I'm done.”
He turned.
“With what?”
“With this.”
She pointed toward the bodies.
“I work in a restaurant.”
Her voice shook.
“I serve food. I clean tables. I pay bills.”
A pause.
“I don't belong in whatever world you're dragging me into.”
Enzo stared at her.
“Neither did your mother.”
“Then let me leave.”
“I can't.”
“You can.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“Someone just tried to take you alive.”
Khloe looked away.
“Then let the police handle it.”
“They already have.”
“What?”
Enzo nodded toward the front entrance.
“Three officers outside.”
Khloe stared at him.
“Good.”
“They work for us.”
Her face dropped.
“I knew you were going to say that.”
Enzo sighed.
“There is no police officer I trust with this information.”
“Then who do you trust?”
He looked at her.
“You.”
Khloe gave a hollow laugh.
“You met me yesterday.”
“I've watched you for six months.”
That stopped her.
“What?”
“You think I noticed you because of the Italian?”
He shook his head.
“I noticed because you are the only employee who doesn't steal.”
Khloe frowned.
“You counted?”
“I count everything.”
He moved toward the cellar.
“Come.”
Khloe followed.
The captured attacker sat tied to a chair.
His nose was bleeding.
He looked at Enzo with hatred.
Then he saw Khloe.
His expression changed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Khloe noticed.
“You know me.”
The man smiled.
“Your father would be proud.”
She froze.
Enzo crouched in front of him.
“What is her father called?”
The man remained silent.
Enzo stood.
Frankie stepped forward.
Khloe raised a hand.
“Wait.”
She switched into Sicilian.
“Whoever sent you knows I exist. If you lie, you'll never get out.”
The man laughed.
“You still speak like your mother.”
Khloe stepped closer.
“What was my father hiding?”
The attacker looked directly at her.
“A box.”
“What box?”
“Blackwood.”
Enzo's expression changed.
The man noticed.
“You know it.”
Enzo said nothing.
The attacker continued.
“Marco Bennett left the box with one condition.”
“What?”
“It could only be opened by his daughter.”
Khloe's stomach tightened.
“Where is it?”
The man smiled.
“Your mother knew.”
“She's dead.”
“So she told you.”
Enzo's eyes narrowed.
“Explain.”
The attacker laughed.
“Dead women don't write letters.”
Khloe froze.
“My mother wrote letters.”
He shook his head.
“She wrote one.”
“To whom?”
“To you.”
Her heart raced.
“Where is it?”
The man looked at Enzo.
“Ask him.”
Enzo's face hardened.
“Why me?”
“Because the letter was sent to your house.”
Silence.
Khloe stared at him.
“You have it?”
Enzo did not answer.
That was answer enough.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I hadn't opened it.”
“You knew?”
“My father received it.”
“And hid it.”
“Yes.”
Khloe felt betrayed by a man she barely knew.
“Take me there.”
Enzo nodded.
They left the restaurant under heavy security.
The Bianke estate sat behind high iron gates in an old district of the city.
Khloe had expected something extravagant.
Instead, the house looked tired.
Beautiful once.
Now scarred by age.
Enzo led her through the library.
A painting of an old Bianke patriarch hung over the fireplace.
He touched the frame.
A hidden panel opened.
Inside was a small safe.
He entered a code.
The lock clicked.
Inside lay a single envelope.
Khloe's name was written on the front.
Her hands trembled.
The handwriting belonged to her mother.
Khloe opened it.
My little girl,
If you're reading this, I am gone, or I am no longer able to protect you.
Khloe's eyes blurred.
She kept reading.
There are things I wanted to tell you.
Things I should have told you.
Your father did not abandon us.
He disappeared because he discovered that the Bianke family had a traitor.
The traitor was someone close enough to be called family.
He took the ledger because it was the only proof.
He planned to come back for us.
He never did.
Not because he forgot.
Because he was killed.
Khloe stopped.
Enzo looked away.
The letter continued.
If they ever find you, don't trust the man with the silver ring.
Khloe looked up.
“Silver ring?”
Enzo's eyes moved to his own right hand.
He wore a silver signet ring.
Khloe stepped back.
“You're wearing one.”
Enzo stared at the ring.
“No.”
He removed it.
“This isn't the ring she meant.”
“How do you know?”
“Because my father had another.”
He turned it over.
A tiny wolf was engraved inside.
“This belonged to my brother.”
Khloe frowned.
“Your brother?”
“I don't have one.”
A cold silence followed.
Then Enzo looked at the letter again.
“The man with the silver ring was not a Bianke.”
Khloe read on.
He will call himself a friend.
He will tell you your father stole from the family.
He will ask you to trust him.
Don't.
And one more thing.
If Enzo Bianke ever tells you that he wants you because of the ledger, believe only half of what he says.
Khloe looked slowly at Enzo.
“What does that mean?”
He looked genuinely confused.
“I don't know.”
The door slammed downstairs.
Frankie shouted.
“Boss!”
Enzo drew his weapon.
Khloe felt the letter slip from her hand.
Footsteps thundered toward the library.
Then a voice came from the hall.
“Enzo.”
It was an older man.
Calm.
Familiar.
Enzo's face changed.
“Uncle Vittorio.”
Khloe looked at him.
“Who is that?”
Enzo whispered:
“The man who taught my father everything.”
Vittorio entered.
He wore a dark suit.
A silver ring.
Khloe's blood froze.
The ring was not like Enzo's.
It was identical to the description in the letter.
Vittorio smiled.
“Hello, Khloe.”
Enzo raised his gun.
“Why are you here?”
Vittorio's eyes never left her.
“Because your father left something unfinished.”
Khloe stepped behind Enzo.
Vittorio smiled wider.
“The ledger.”
Enzo's voice was cold.
“You don't have it.”
“No.”
Vittorio looked at Khloe.
“She does.”
Khloe's heart pounded.
Vittorio continued.
“Your father hid the ledger inside something he knew only you could find.”
Enzo glanced at Khloe.
“The box.”
Vittorio nodded.
“Blackwood.”
Khloe looked between them.
“Where is it?”
Vittorio smiled.
“That is the question.”
He reached into his coat.
Enzo raised his weapon.
But Vittorio did not pull a gun.
He pulled out a photograph.
He held it toward Khloe.
The picture showed her father standing beside a little girl.
Khloe.
But the photograph had been taken after the date her mother claimed Marco disappeared.
And behind them stood another person.
A young Enzo.
Khloe stared.
Enzo's face went white.
“That photo is impossible.”
Vittorio smiled.
“No.”
A pause.
“What's impossible is how much you've forgotten.”
Then the mansion doors exploded open.
Gunfire erupted.
Vittorio disappeared into the smoke.
Enzo grabbed Khloe.
“Run!”
She clutched the letter.
“Where?”
“Anywhere but here.”
As they fled through the secret passage beneath the library, Khloe looked once more at the photograph.
The image of her father.
The little girl.
And young Enzo.
There was one final detail.
May you like
Her father was holding Enzo's hand.
Like they were family.
