Chapter 3 - The Weight of Inheritance
"What are you talking about?" I demanded into the phone, clutching the heavy gold signet ring in my palm. "What did Mr. Cosenza have to do with your family?"
"Everything," Gabriel said, the sound of a car engine roaring in the background. "Mr. Cosenza wasn't just an old neighbor, Tessa. Twenty-five years ago, he was my father's most trusted enforcer in Palermo before he walked away with something that didn't belong to him. My father has been looking for that ring for two decades."
The kitchen felt suddenly very small. I looked down at the heavy gold crest in my hand, the intricate engraving suddenly looking less like a family heirloom and more like a target painted on my back.
"I'm a waitress, Gabriel. I serve steaks and pour water," I said, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to keep it steady. "I don't know anything about your father's business, and I didn't ask for this ring."
"It doesn't matter what you asked for. To my father, possession of that ring means you are either Gaetano's heir or his accomplice," Gabriel replied sharply. "And right now, half the men in our organization think you're sitting on information that could tear everything apart. Pack a bag. I'm three blocks away."
"I'm not running," I said, a sudden surge of stubborn anger overriding my fear. "I've spent my whole life running from bills, from landlords, from hospital debt. I'm not running from an old man with a cane."
"You aren't running from an old man, Tessa. You're running from the people he commands," Gabriel shot back. "Listen to me for once in your life. Open your window."
Before I could process his words, a sharp knock echoed against my apartment door. Not a polite rap. Three heavy, deliberate thuds that shook the cheap wooden frame.
My breath hitched. Gabriel was three blocks away—which meant whoever was at my door wasn't him.
The letter from Mr. Cosenza lay open on the table beside the wooden box. The cash, the ring, the warning. I backed away slowly from the door as a second round of knocks rattled the lock.
"Tessa? Are you still there?" Gabriel's voice crackled through the phone speaker.
"Someone's at the door," I whispered.
"Get out the fire escape. Now."
The lock clicked. The heavy bolt slid back with a metallic screech. The door swung open, revealing a towering man in a tailored charcoal suit—one of the bodyguards who had flanked Salvatore earlier that evening. He looked into the dim apartment, his eyes locking instantly onto mine.
May you like
"Miss," the man said smoothly, stepping across the threshold. "The Boss would like a word."
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