Chapter 16 - The Vatican Vault

Cardinal Lorenzo Rossi arrived at Marchetti's Table unannounced, black Mercedes slipping through dawn mist. No entourage. No press. Just one priest carrying a locked cedar box. Elena spotted him first, ushering him to the back booth before breakfast rush.Leo emerged from the kitchen, towel over shoulder. "Cardinal. Coffee? Espresso?"Rossi waved it off, face lined with centuries-old worry. "Mr. Marchetti. Or... should I say, Signore Morte?"Leo poured anyway. "Just Leo. Cream?"The priest set the cedar box on the table—ancient, branded with seven seals. "The Vatican archives miracles. Yours... concerns us."Sophie peeked from upstairs. Elena blocked her view.Rossi unlocked the box. Inside: yellowed parchment, a vial of black liquid, a silver locket engraved with a scythe-and-fork.The First Reaper"The Primo Mietitore," Rossi began, voice hushed. "Florence, 1492. A chef named Alessandro di Morte. Fed plague victims risotto during Black Death. Every who ate... survived."Leo frowned. "Risotto needs constant stirring."Rossi slid the parchment forward—hand-illuminated, Latin script. "Alessandro's blood boiled plagues from veins. Shadow followed his knife. Fed thousands. Death knelt.""Metaphor," Leo said.The cardinal opened the locket. Miniature portrait: a man with Leo's jawline, gray eyes, white apron over Renaissance doublet. "His lineage continued. Hidden. Protecting cities through food. Paris, 1789. Fed revolutionaries bread—prevented total famine massacre. New York, 1929. Soup kitchens healed Depression despair."Leo touched the portrait. Identical. "Coincidence."Rossi produced the vial. Black liquid swirled unnaturally. "Alessandro's blood. Tested last night. Matches yours—99.8%. The Reaper gene. Not myth. Biology."Elena's hand found Leo's under the table. Sophie watched wide-eyed from the stairs.The Burden"Every generation," Rossi continued, "one bearer awakens. You ignored it. Lived normal. Until the shadow called."Leo stared at his hands—steady, flour-dusted. "People die around me.""No," Rossi corrected. "You heal through death's door. The soup. The lightning. Volkov's fat vapor. Your presence balances scales."Sophie crept closer. "Dad... you're a superhero?""Complicated," Leo murmured.Rossi closed the box. "The current crisis—global famine warnings. Cartels hoard grain. Wars over water. They need the Reaper awake."Leo stood. "I feed people. Always have.""Not enough," Rossi pressed. "The lineage chooses how. Alessandro faced plague. You face modernity. Accept it."Elena glared. "He's a father first."The TestRossi nodded to the box. "One drop. Awakens fully. Controls the shadow. Feeds billions."Leo uncorked the vial. Black liquid gleamed. Sophie held her breath.Thunder rumbled outside—no forecast.Leo stoppered it. "Not today."Rossi sighed. "The shadow grows impatient."Global Chaos EruptsAs Rossi's car pulled away, CNN alerts screamed: "Sudan famine hits critical. 14 million starving. Cartels block aid."Sophie showed Leo her phone. Riots in Mumbai. Warehouse fires in Chicago. The world teetered.Vincenzo burst in. "Reaper! Our grain shipments—hijacked! Fake Reapers imposters!"Leo retied his apron. "Location?""International waters. Three freighters."Leo glanced at the cedar box, then the stove. "Prep the ovens. Double portions."Elena touched his arm. "Leo..."He kissed her forehead. "Dinner at 7. Family only."High Seas - 9 PMThree Reaper-marked freighters burned, fake scythe flags flying from rival gangs. The imposter leader laughed over radio: "The Reaper's a myth! Grain's ours!"A shadow crossed the moon. Not cloud. Not plane.Leo's private jet touched down on the nearest carrier—US Navy, on "joint exercise." Admirals saluted as Leo strode past in apron and parka, black vial in pocket.Deck-side Kitchen - Reaper Mobile UnitUS Marines watched slack-jawed as Leo set up field stoves. Vincenzo coordinated via satellite. Sophie streamed live to 4 billion viewers.First pot: bone broth. Second: risotto. Olives pitted by the gallon.Leo uncorked the vial. One drop into the master stock. Black lightning crackled—inaudible to all but him."Finally," the shadow whispered.Choppers air-dropped the first pallets to Sudan. CNN broadcast: "Reaper's fleet launches miracle meal."Within hours, the impossible: starving camps reported strength returning. Children stood. Elders walked. Doctors wept on camera.Marchetti's Table - 7 PM DinnerFamily sat to lasagna. Sophie forked a bite. "Dad. You saved Sudan."Leo served seconds. "Just dinner."Elena opened the ledger to a blank page. Leo's hand—steady—wrote:"Primo Awakening. Feeds millions. Shadow wakes."Outside, pilgrims lined the block. Vatican helicopters circled overhead—not investigating, but guarding.The chef who ignored death now cooked with it.And the world ate from his hand.