Chapter 10 - THE NINETY MILLION DOLLAR RECIPE
The recipe looked ridiculous.
Eggplant.
Tomatoes.
Oil.
Salt.
But Antonio had encoded account fragments inside cooking instructions.
“Salt before the moon rises.”
“Turn the meat three times for the widow.”
“Never wash the knife after Saint Joseph.”
To anyone else, nonsense.
To someone who knew Antonio's dialect and stories?
Directions.
Gabriel and I spent six hours decoding them.
The result produced bank names, dates, and an access phrase.
The phrase:
LA FIGLIA DEL FUOCO TORNA A CASA.
The daughter of the fire returns home.
Gabriel looked at me.
“That's you.”
“Why?”
“Your mother.”
Elena had survived a warehouse fire connected to Vittorio when she was nineteen.
Antonio apparently called her figlia del fuoco.
The account required voice verification.
Not Antonio.
Elena.
Impossible.
Unless...
I sounded like her.
I had old voicemail recordings.
Same cadence.
Same vowels.
Antonio had trained my dialect pronunciation to match hers.
My entire language education had been preparation for this.
I wanted to scream at a dead man.
Instead, I asked:
“What happens if we access it?”
“Depends who gets there first.”
Federal authorities could freeze the assets.
Vittorio and Alessandro could steal them.
Salvatore could reclaim them.
“No.”
I looked at Gabriel.
“Nobody in your family gets ninety million dollars that came from trafficked people.”
He nodded immediately.
No argument.
That surprised me.
“We turn it over.”
“Yes.”
We contacted a federal financial-crimes attorney through someone Gabriel trusted.
Before we could send the decoded material, Salvatore collapsed.
Hospital.
Cancer complication.
Gabriel went with him.
I stayed behind to encrypt copies.
That was when Alessandro appeared in my apartment.
No forced entry.
He had a key.
I backed away.
“How?”
“Richard.”
“Richard wouldn't—”
“He didn't.”
Alessandro held up an old master key from the restaurant property company.
My building had once been owned by a Rossi shell company.
Of course.
“You lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“At least we're efficient now.”
He smiled sadly.
“I never wanted you hurt.”
“That sentence usually comes right before the hurting part.”
He asked for the notebook.
I refused.
Then he said:
“Vittorio has Mia.”
Everything inside me stopped.
My sister.
“She was taken leaving dialysis.”
I lunged for my phone.
Alessandro caught my wrist.
“No police.”
“Let go.”
He did.
Immediately.
“I'm trying to keep her alive.”
“By helping Vittorio?”
“I've been trying to control him for years.”
Same excuse.
Different man.
“Where is she?”
“Warehouse in Red Hook.”
“What does he want?”
“You. The notebook. The voice access.”
My medical bills suddenly looked absurd.
I'd been working double shifts to keep Mia alive.
Now someone had taken her because of money I never wanted.
Then Gabriel called.
I answered.
“Tessa?”
I couldn't speak.
He heard it anyway.
“What happened?”
Alessandro reached for the phone.
I stepped away.
For once, I refused to hide information to “protect” someone.
“Vittorio has Mia.”
Silence.
Then Gabriel's voice changed.
“Where?”
“Red Hook.”
“Do not go alone.”
Alessandro whispered:
“If Salvatore's men arrive, Vittorio kills her.”
Gabriel heard.
He responded:
May you like
“Then I won't bring Salvatore's men.”
Twenty minutes later, Gabriel arrived alone.
