Chapter 8 - The Vault of Lies
The manager of the ultra-luxurious restaurant hovered near the kitchen double doors, paralyzed with fright by the unfolding scene.
Marco marched over to the terrified manager, shoving a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills into the man’s trembling hands.
"Close the restaurant right now. Tell the remaining guests there is a private family emergency," Marco ordered coldly.
The manager nodded frantically, quickly ushering the remaining wealthy diners out through the rear terrace doors without protest.
Salvatore handed Clara’s phone back to her with hands that could barely maintain a steady grip on the lightweight device.
His phone buzzed aggressively in his palm, displaying an encrypted caller ID from their chief security operative at the cemetery.
Salvatore hit the speakerphone button, his voice dropping into the icy, ruthless cadence that had conquered Philadelphia's underworld.
"Report, Franco," Salvatore commanded, his eyes narrowing as he listened for the verdict from the Valetti family mausoleum.
"Don Salvatore, we just breached the inner bronze gates of the family crypt," the operative's tense voice crackled over the speaker.
"Father Rossi provided the master keys without resistance, and we brought high-intensity tactical spotlights inside," Franco reported.
"Has the marble seal on Elena's sarcophagus been tampered with?" Salvatore asked, his knuckles whitening around the phone.
"Negative, Boss. The mortar looks completely undisturbed since the day it was laid fifteen years ago," the operative answered.
"Break the seal. Slide the marble lid open right now," Salvatore commanded, his voice trembling with terrifying resolve.
"Boss, are you certain? Desecrating the family tomb is considered a mortal sin," Franco hesitated over the static line.
"I gave you an order, Franco! Crack the damn tomb open and tell me what is inside that casket!" Salvatore bellowed.
The line fell silent save for the scraping sounds of heavy crowbars, grinding stone, and strained breathing echoing off marble crypt walls.
Clara pressed her hands over her ears, the macabre reality of an exhumation taking place miles away turning her stomach to ice.
Lorenzo stood rigid, his hand gripping the edge of the dining table so tightly that the mahogany wood groaned under the pressure.
After what felt like an eternity of hollow grinding sounds, Franco’s panicked voice returned through the phone speaker.
"Don Salvatore... my God... the bronze casket is unbolted," Franco stammered, his breath coming in ragged, terrified gasps.
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"Open it, Franco! What do you see?" Salvatore demanded, his voice dropping into a desperate, furious whisper.
"There are no human remains inside, Boss. The casket is filled with bags of industrial gravel and sand," Franco revealed.
