Chapter 4 - The Ghost Beneath the RestaurantLucian did not tell Amelia everything.
She sat upright so quickly that pain exploded through her head.
For several breathless seconds she stared into darkness.
No pounding.
No shouting.
No Raymond.
Only a radiator clicking beneath the window.
Rain tapping glass.
A small green light glowing from the smoke detector.
She pressed a hand against her chest.
The apartment above Bellini House was quieter than she expected.
Lucian had apparently renovated it years earlier for visiting family. Two bedrooms. A small kitchen. Cream-colored walls. A faded Persian rug. Nothing flashy.
No gold furniture.
No guns lying around.
No gangster movie nonsense.
Just a place that smelled faintly of coffee and old wood.
Amelia carefully got out of bed.
Her face hurt.
Her wrist hurt.
Her ribs hurt.
But the worst pain remained invisible.
Three years of rebuilding had collapsed with one swing of Raymond’s fist.
She crossed the hall and entered the kitchen.
A paper bag sat on the counter.
Inside were painkillers, bottled water, crackers, soup, and a note.
Kevin brought these up. Security is downstairs. Call if you need anything. — L.C.
Amelia stared at the initials.
No sentimental speech.
No expectation.
Just options.
Again.
She hated how much that mattered.
At eight, Kevin called.
Raymond had been arraigned.
Assault.
Harassment.
Stalking allegations under review.
A temporary order of protection had been issued.
“That’s good,” Kevin said.
Amelia looked through the window toward Atlantic Avenue.
“Is it?”
Kevin hesitated.
“He can’t legally come near you.”
“Raymond never cared much about legal.”
“No.”
A pause.
“But Lucian does.”
She frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Kevin lowered his voice.
“It means Castellano told every employee that nobody is allowed to give out your schedule, phone number, address, anything. He’s also paying everyone for the shifts we’re losing while the dining room gets cleaned up.”
Amelia blinked.
“We’re closed?”
“For two days.”
“Why?”
“Police took camera footage. Insurance. And honestly?”
“What?”
“Lucian said nobody should have to serve brunch twelve hours after watching someone nearly get killed.”
Amelia swallowed.
She hadn't nearly been killed.
Had she?
The thought made her sit down.
Kevin continued.
“You take whatever time you need.”
“I need money.”
“You’re getting paid.”
“What?”
“Lucian’s orders.”
Amelia immediately stiffened.
“I don’t want charity.”
“It’s not charity.”
“It sounds like charity.”
“It’s worker compensation for an incident that happened on-site.”
“Kevin.”
“All right.”
He sighed.
“He’s worried about you.”
Amelia stared at the note on the counter.
“That’s not his job.”
“No.”
Kevin’s tone changed.
“But I’ve worked for that man fourteen years, Amelia. I’ve never seen him look the way he looked when he walked through that door.”
She said nothing.
Kevin quickly added, “Not romantic. I’m not saying anything like that.”
“Good.”
“I mean angry.”
“I noticed.”
“No. You didn't.”
The line went quiet.
Then Kevin said softly, “Lucian’s father was killed in this restaurant.”
Amelia froze.
“What?”
“Twenty-two years ago. Lucian was sixteen.”
She looked around the apartment differently.
Kevin continued.
“Bellini House belonged to his mother’s family. His father stepped outside one night after dinner. Somebody opened fire from a car.”
“Oh my God.”
“Lucian was standing right here when he heard it.”
A long silence passed.
“That’s why violence inside Bellini House…” Kevin stopped.
“What?”
“He doesn’t tolerate it.”
Amelia looked toward the door.
“Why does everyone call him mafia?”
Kevin gave a humorless laugh.
“Because his family wasn’t exactly in the Boy Scouts.”
“And Lucian?”
“That’s a question you should ask him.”
The call ended soon after.
At ten-thirty, Amelia heard a knock.
Her body went rigid.
Three soft taps.
Then a male voice.
“Amelia? It’s Lucian.”
She remained still.
He didn’t knock again.
After nearly thirty seconds, he said, “I’m leaving something outside the door.”
Footsteps retreated.
Amelia waited another minute before opening it.
A phone sat on the floor.
Brand new.
Beside it was another note.
Your old number may be compromised. This one is prepaid and registered to the restaurant. Use it or don’t. Your choice.
She almost laughed.
Of course.
Options.
Always options.
By afternoon, Detective Lena Ortiz called.
They had located previous police reports involving Raymond.
Two women.
Both had declined prosecution.
Amelia sat very still.
“There were others?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“One four years ago. Another six years ago.”
She closed her eyes.
Raymond had told her every former girlfriend was crazy.
Jealous.
Vindictive.
He had told Amelia she was different.
Special.
Chosen.
Now the words made her sick.
“Can I speak with them?”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“We need permission.”
Detective Ortiz paused.
“There’s something else.”
Amelia’s stomach tightened.
“We reviewed surveillance from yesterday. Raymond didn’t simply walk in.”
“What do you mean?”
“He waited across the street for forty-seven minutes.”
Amelia’s fingers went cold.
“He was watching me?”
“Yes.”
“With the other men?”
“No.”
That surprised her.
“They arrived later.”
“When?”
“Eleven minutes before the assault.”
“Then why did Lucian say—”
“He was right that they’re connected to Victor Sanz.”
Amelia stood and crossed toward the window.
On the street below, black SUVs moved through traffic.
“What does this have to do with me?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine.”
A knock sounded again.
Amelia turned sharply.
“Detective, someone’s here.”
“Security downstairs?”
“Yes.”
“Check before opening.”
Amelia called the desk.
It was Lucian.
She unlocked the door.
He entered carrying two coffees.
“I thought you might be tired of water.”
She accepted one.
“Detective Ortiz says Raymond waited across the street for forty-seven minutes.”
“I know.”
“You knew?”
“She called me first about the building footage.”
Amelia stared at him.
“And the men from Sanz?”
“They arrived separately.”
“Yes.”
Lucian’s expression hardened.
“Which means my first theory was wrong.”
“What theory?”
“That Victor helped Raymond find you.”
Amelia’s heart beat faster.
“Then what’s the new theory?”
Lucian placed his coffee down.
“That Raymond found you himself.”
“That’s worse.”
“Yes.”
“And Victor?”
“He sent those men because he knew Raymond was coming.”
Amelia stared.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did they want?”
Lucian’s jaw tightened.
“Possibly to see what I’d do.”
“To Raymond?”
“To you.”
Her breath caught.
Lucian immediately corrected himself.
“Not because of who you are.”
“Then why?”
“Because you work for me.”
Amelia laughed bitterly.
“I carry pasta and refill coffee.”
“To Victor, that doesn’t matter.”
She paced toward the window.
“So I’m some kind of test?”
“Maybe.”
“For what?”
Lucian remained silent too long.
Amelia turned.
“What?”
“There’s a meeting next week.”
“Between who?”
“People who control several properties along the waterfront.”
“What kind of people?”
“The kind you don't want details about.”
“Convenient.”
“Yes.”
She glared at him.
Lucian didn't flinch.
“Victor wants Bellini House,” he said. “Not for the restaurant. For the land.”
“Why?”
“There’s an old service tunnel beneath this building that connects to warehouses closer to the river.”
Amelia frowned.
“You're kidding.”
“No.”
“What’s in the tunnel?”
“Nothing anymore.”
“Anymore?”
Lucian looked away.
That single glance told her enough.
“Your family used it.”
“Long ago.”
“For what?”
“Things that don’t belong in your life.”
She stared at him.
“They’re already in my life.”
Lucian looked back.
She pointed toward her bruised face.
“They walked into my dining room.”
He absorbed that silently.
Then nodded.
“You’re right.”
It seemed difficult for him to admit.
That mattered too.
“What does Victor want with the tunnel now?”
“I don’t know.”
A buzz sounded from Lucian’s phone.
He read the message.
His face changed.
“What?”
“Raymond made bail.”
Amelia stopped breathing.
“How?”
“Someone posted it.”
“Who?”
Lucian typed rapidly.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His eyes hardened.
“Say that again.”
Amelia watched him.
“Where?”
He crossed toward the window.
“Don't touch anything. I’m coming down.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?”
Lucian looked at her.
“One of my security men found an envelope taped beneath the restaurant’s back door.”
Amelia’s stomach turned.
“What’s inside?”
“A photograph.”
“Of what?”
Lucian hesitated.
“Your apartment.”
“My old apartment?”
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“This one.”
Amelia went cold.
“How?”
“The picture was taken from the building across the street.”
Her eyes slowly moved toward the uncovered window.
Lucian stepped between her and the glass.
On the back of the photograph, someone had written six words.
You can’t protect every woman forever.
May you like
And beneath that was a symbol Lucian had not seen in twenty-two years.
The same symbol carved into the bullet recovered from his father’s body.
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