Chapter 4 - THE MIDNIGHT VISITOR
I bolted my apartment door three times.
I slid the heavy iron chain into place.
My hands were still shaking.
I dropped the manila envelope onto the small kitchen table.
The photograph of my grandfather stared back at me.
Young, proud, and dangerous.
Nothing like the tired old man who had raised me.
A knock sounded at the door.
It was soft.
Deliberate.
Three precise raps.
"Who is it?" I called out.
Silence.
"If you don't answer, I'm calling the police."
"The police won't help you here," a voice replied.
It was Dante Gallo.
His voice was calm, low, and unmistakable.
I backed away from the door.
"Go away."
"Open the door, Nora."
"I have nothing to say to you."
"My father collapsed ten minutes after he got home," Dante said.
I froze.
The doorknob turned.
The chain held, but the wood groaned under pressure.
"He’s asking for you," Dante continued.
"Why would he ask for me? I barely know him!"
"He said you hold the key."
"Key to what?"
"The Prizzi archive."
I stared at the locked door.
My grandfather had left me a small wooden box.
It sat at the bottom of my closet.
Unopened.
Forgotten.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied.
"Open the door, Nora," Dante's voice softened slightly.
"Or I will kick it in. And I'd rather not break your door."
I walked slowly across the room.
My fingers gripped the iron chain.
I lifted it.
I pulled the door open.
Dante stood in the dim hallway.
His tie was loose.
His hair was slightly disheveled.
He looked tired.
Dangerous, but exhausted.
"May I come in?" he asked.
"Make it quick," I said, stepping aside.
He walked into the cramped apartment.
He looked around with sharp, calculating eyes.
"You live like this?"
"It pays the rent," I snapped.
"My father is dying," Dante said, turning to face me.
"You mentioned that."
"He has hours, maybe a day."
"I'm sorry, but that's not my fault."
"He left a message in his delirium."
Dante took a step closer to me.
"He said Pietro's granddaughter knows where the ledger is."
"What ledger?"
"The one that can destroy my family."
I stared at him.
The tension in the room spiked.
"Your family built an empire on blood and secrets," I said.
"Why should I care if it falls?"
Dante’s eyes darkened.
"Because if it falls, you fall with us."
"Try me."
He reached out and grabbed my wrist.
His grip was firm, but not bruising.
"You don't understand the game, Nora."
"Then teach me," I whispered, holding his gaze.
He leaned down.
His face was inches from mine.
"The game kills sparrows."
May you like
"Good thing," I said, my voice steady.
"I'm done flying low."
