Chapter 4 - The Architect's Secret
The next morning, the mafia went to war, but Roman ordered Evelyn to stay locked in the penthouse with six armed guards at the door. He was in the war room with Sal, coordinating a massive retaliation against the Moretti family.
Evelyn paced the floor, wearing one of Roman’s oversized dress shirts. She needed her tailoring kit from the shop to properly fix the rest of Roman’s suit—a nervous habit to keep her hands busy. She convinced one of the guards, a young guy named Leo, to drive her to the shop really quickly.
When she unlocked the door to Hart & Daughter, the bell jingled, but the shop felt cold and wrong. She walked behind the counter to grab her shears, only to freeze. Standing in the back room, holding a crowbar and ripping open her father’s old floorboards, was Andrew.
The architect.
Andrew spun around, his friendly, oat-milk-drinking persona completely gone. His eyes were manic, his clothes disheveled. He pulled a gun from his waistband and aimed it directly at her chest.
“Andrew?” Evelyn gasped, stepping back. “What are you doing?”
“Shut up and lock the door!” he snapped.
The pieces fell into place with sickening speed. “You don’t work for an architecture firm. You work for the developer. The one trying to buy this block.”
“The developer is an associate of the Moretti family, you stupid girl,” Andrew snarled, moving closer. “Your father used this shop to hide a ledger for the old Valenti boss ten years ago. The Morettis have been trying to buy this building to find it. I was supposed to date you, get you to sell, and find the book. But then Valenti had to show up and play knight in shining armor.”
Evelyn’s blood ran cold. The date. The coffee. It was all a setup.
“Give me the ledger, Evelyn, or I kill you right now and burn this place to the ground.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she cried.
Before Andrew could cock the hammer of his gun, the front window of the shop shattered inward with explosive force. A black SUV had literally rammed through the storefront, crushing the display mannequins.
From the driver’s side, Roman Valenti stepped out. He was still injured, moving slightly stiff, but he looked like the devil himself. He didn’t say a word. He raised his weapon and fired a single, deafening shot.
The gun spun out of Andrew’s hand, his fingers shattered. He screamed, dropping to his knees. Sal and three other Valenti soldiers rushed in, immediately pinning Andrew to the floor and dragging him out by his collar.
Roman dropped his gun on the counter and crossed the room in three massive strides, pulling Evelyn into a bone-crushing embrace. “I told you to stay at the apartment,” he breathed, burying his face in her hair.
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“He was looking for a ledger,” Evelyn sobbed into his chest, clutching him tight. “He works for the Morettis.”
“I know,” Roman said darkly. “That’s why the Morettis attacked the club. They knew I bought the building and thought I had the ledger. But it doesn’t matter anymore. The Moretti family is currently being dismantled as we speak. You are safe. You are never going to be touched by them again.”
