Page 60 of Christmas Vows with the Devil

I nod, instructing my crew to search the place from top to bottom while Gia walks through. My guys are overturning crates, tearing pallets apart, and still finding nothing.

We were so close. I thought for sure this would be it. And now, we’re back to square one—no leads, no more clues, nothing. I turn, searching for Gia, who most likely needs extra comfort right now, but she’s gone.

Panicked, I spin around, shouting for her. I find her standing in front of a wall where a group of chairs has been set up. She’s staring intently at the baseboards.

She’s finally cracked. The stress is too much for her.

Slowly, I approach her, sliding my arms around her waist. She’s breathing strangely, almost gasping for air.

“Gia?” I ask, moving to stand beside her so I can get a better look. “What is it?”

She points at the baseboard, a strangled cry escaping her throat, and I finally see it. A handful of children’s crayons lay scattered against the wall. Just above them, the wordMatteo, etched into the dingy wall glows like a neon sign.

Gia drops to her knees, tracing her finger over the letters. She glances up at me, tears streaming down her face.

“It’s his writing, Dante,” she says, pulling at my hand. I crouch down beside her, my eyes scanning the wall. “He wants to be an artist. His pockets are always stuffed with crayons.”

I’m just about to comment on what a smart kid our son is when I see another name scratched in red crayon closer to the floor.Jon Manso.

The spelling is wrong, but a little kid wouldn’t necessarily know how to spell it correctly. But it’s impossible. He’s dead.

John Manzo. My father.

The idea makes my mind reel and I get dizzy, leaning against the wall. Gia notices and follows my gaze to the red letters.

“Does Matteo know my father’s name?” I breathe. Gia’s silent, and I look up to see her staring at me, dread pooling in her eyes. She shakes her head.

“No,” she says. “No. How could he know that name?”

“Unless he heard someone say it.”

“But…your father is dead,” she looks around, dazed. “Isn’t he?”

I can’t breathe. Can’t think straight. I call Rocco to gather up the crew and we get into the cars, heading back to the office. Gia and I sit shell-shocked in the back seat, staring at the picture I snapped off the wall.

Matteo’s name. My father’s name. Written in jumbled little kid writing in crayon.

Something about this feels wrong. We’ve been chasing shadows, following leads that keep going nowhere. And now, Matteo has pointed us to a literal dead end.

What the hell does my father have to do with this?

Chapter Twenty-One

Gia

We spend the day in New York, chasing dead ends, coming up with nothing. There’s been no more sightings of Matteo. It’s like he completely vanished, and it’s tearing my heart into pieces.

I look around Dante’s office, his closest men piled inside, sitting on every possible surface. Heavy silence hangs over us, the hopelessness of it all suffocating me. I make eye contact with Rocco, and even he, forever grim and steadfast, flashes me a look of pity.

“Nothing,” I hear Dante say. “We have absolutely nothing.”

My family is on the conference line, listening to Dante’s retelling of our day. They’ve heard nothing as well.

But we don’t have nothing, I think.Why isn’t Dante telling them about the names on the wall?

“Well…” My father’s gruff voice echoes through the room. “We’ll get over to the city as soon as we can and double down on the search.”

Dante agrees. The call is about to end, and he still hasn’t told them.

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