Chapter 3 - The Silver Pocket Watch
Sophia stared at the photograph until the edges blurred. Her father. Anthony Rossi. A man who currently lived in a cramped Queens apartment, drowning in debt, wearing cheap suits. But in this photo, he was wearing a tailored tuxedo, looking powerful, holding Vanessa Genovese as if he owned her. “When was this taken?” Sophia whispered, her voice cracking. “Five years ago,” Elena said softly. “Before your father lost everything. Before the Genovese family destroyed him to get to us.” Sophia’s mind raced. “To get to you? What does my father have to do with the Morettis?” “Everything,” a dark voice said. Sophia jumped. Dante stood in the doorway. He had returned alone. His eyes dropped to the photograph in her hand, and a heavy sigh escaped his lips. “Mama, I told you not to involve her,” Dante said, walking over and gently taking the photo from Sophia’s fingers. “She deserves to know why she is trapped here!” Elena snapped in Italian. She wheeled herself out of the kitchen, leaving them alone in the tense silence. Sophia crossed her arms, her heart hammering against her ribs. “Explain. Now,” she demanded. Dante rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking exhausted. The untouchable mob boss looked entirely human. “Five years ago, your father was my father’s head accountant,” Dante said quietly. The floor seemed to tilt beneath Sophia. “No. He was a car salesman.” “That was his cover,” Dante corrected gently. “Anthony Rossi was a genius with numbers. He hid the Moretti assets from the feds, and from rival families. But he made a mistake. He fell in love with Vanessa Genovese.” Sophia shook her head, refusing to believe it. “My father never stopped loving my mother.” “Vanessa used him,” Dante continued, stepping closer. “She seduced him to get the account numbers. When she had them, her family drained our accounts. They framed your father for the stolen ruby necklace to ensure his silence, then fed his gambling addiction to keep him poor and desperate.” “And the engagement?” Sophia asked, her voice trembling. “Blackmail,” Dante said bitterly. “If I don’t marry Vanessa and merge our territories, her father will turn over the financial ledgers to the FBI. My mother would die in federal prison.” Sophia backed away, bumping into the marble island. Dante had bought her father’s $40,000 debt not because he was kind, but out of guilt. It was blood money. “I need to see him,” Sophia said, untying her apron. “I need to see my father.” “Sophia, don’t. The Genovese men are watching his building.” “I don’t care!” Before Dante could stop her, Sophia ran toward the coat room. She grabbed her thin winter coat, her hands shaking so badly she could barely find the sleeves. As she shoved her hand into her right pocket to find her subway card, her fingers brushed against something heavy and cold. She pulled it out. It was a heavy silver pocket watch. Her breath hitched. It was her father’s lucky watch. The one he swore he had pawned three years ago to pay for her mother’s funeral. But it hadn’t been pawned. And it hadn’t been in her coat this morning. She popped the clasp open. Inside, tucked over the glass face, was a tiny, handwritten note on heavy cream cardstock—the same cardstock Vanessa used. Ask your boss what really happened to his father. Tick tock.
