Chapter 6 - THE STANDOFF AT THE STATION
The freezing wind howled through the concrete pillars outside Union Station, but I couldn't feel the cold.
I could only see the guns pointing directly at us.
Luca immediately pushed me and Leo behind him, shielding us with his body. He didn't raise his hands. He stood perfectly straight, the aura of a man who controlled half the city radiating from him.
“Who sent you?” Luca demanded, his voice slicing through the wind like a razor.
The man in the front, a heavy-set guy with a scar across his jaw, smirked.
“Your lovely fiancée, Mr. Moretti. She figured you’d find the locker. She wanted us to make sure the documents inside didn't make it to the police.”
He held out his free hand.
“Give me the envelope.”
Luca didn't move.
“If you pull that trigger,” Luca said calmly, “my men will hunt you to the ends of the earth. You know who I am.”
The scarred man laughed. “We know who you are. But Clara promised us a million dollars each from the trust once the transfer goes through tomorrow morning. We’ll take our chances.”
He cocked the gun.
“The envelope. Now.”
I felt Leo trembling against my legs. My mind raced. We were trapped. If Luca handed over the evidence, Vanessa would win. She would take the money and destroy Teresa anyway.
But if he didn't, we were going to die right here on the sidewalk.
Luca slowly reached into his coat pocket.
He pulled out the thick manila envelope.
“Take it,” Luca said, tossing it onto the snow-covered pavement between them.
The scarred man smiled. He lowered his gun slightly and bent down to pick it up.
That was his mistake.
In a fraction of a second, Luca moved.
He didn't run away. He lunged forward.
Luca grabbed the man’s wrist, twisting it violently upward. The gun fired into the air with a deafening crack. Luca drove his knee into the man’s stomach, dropping him to the ground, and snatched the weapon from his hand.
Before the other three men could react, Luca had the gun leveled at them.
“Drop them,” Luca roared.
The three men froze.
Suddenly, the roar of engines flooded the street. Three black sedans swerved around the corner, screeching to a halt surrounding the SUV.
Doors flew open. A dozen of Luca’s men poured out, weapons drawn, completely outnumbering Vanessa’s hired thugs.
Carlo, Luca’s head of security, stepped forward.
“Boss, are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” Luca said, not taking his eyes off the men. “Tie them up. Put them in the trunk. We have somewhere to be.”
Luca picked up the envelope from the snow, dusting it off.
He turned to me.
“Get in the car, Hannah. We’re going to the lake house.”
The drive to Lake Michigan was a terrifying blur of speed and darkness.
Leo fell asleep in the backseat, his head resting on my lap. I stroked his hair, praying silently that Teresa was still safe.
It was 3:00 A.M. when we turned onto the gravel road leading to the secluded cabin.
The house was completely dark. No lights. No cars in the driveway.
Luca signaled for Carlo and his men to surround the perimeter.
“Stay in the car,” Luca ordered me softly.
He pulled his weapon and walked slowly toward the front porch. He kicked the door open, the sound echoing through the silent woods.
I waited, my heart in my throat.
Minutes passed.
Then, Luca walked back out onto the porch.
His shoulders were slumped.
He walked back to the car and opened the door.
“They’re not here,” Luca said, his voice hollow.
“What?” I gasped. “But she said—”
“She lied. She sent us here to waste time. It’s a dead end.”
I felt sick to my stomach.
We had six hours left until 9:00 A.M. Six hours until Vanessa had Teresa permanently committed and took everything.
“Where else would she take her?” I asked desperately.
Luca ran a hand over his face. “I don't know. The clinic? A warehouse? Chicago is too big. We can’t search it all by morning.”
I looked down at Leo.
And then I saw it.
Tucked into the cuff of Leo’s torn blue sweater was a small, green piece of paper.
I carefully pulled it out.
It wasn't paper.
It was a ticket stub.
“Mr. Moretti,” I said.
Luca looked down.
I held up the ticket.
“This was in Leo’s sleeve. When Vanessa locked him in the wine cellar, she must have dropped it.”
Luca took the stub.
He turned on the overhead car light to read the faded ink.
“Pier 44. Private Charter. Departure: 6:00 A.M.”
Luca’s eyes widened.
“She’s not waiting until 9:00 A.M.,” Luca realized. “She doesn't care about the marriage certificate. She’s taking my mother out of the country.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Because if she disappears with the primary beneficiary, the trust goes into probate. She can bleed it dry from international waters while I’m tied up in court.”
He looked at his watch.
It was 4:15 A.M.
“Carlo!” Luca shouted. “Get us to Pier 44. Now!”
The convoy sped away from the lake, racing back toward the city.
As we drove, I realized I was still holding Teresa’s silver locket in my pocket. I pulled it out, running my thumb over the engraved metal.
I opened it again, looking at the picture of Clara Rossi.
But as the car hit a bump, the small photograph shifted.
It slid sideways, revealing that there was another piece of paper folded tightly beneath it.
I carefully pulled it out.
It was a tiny, handwritten note.
But it wasn't written by Teresa.
It was written by Michael.
“Hannah. If you find this, look at the back of the photograph. The real reason she hates us isn't the money. It’s what happened in 1998.”
I quickly flipped the photograph over.
There was a date stamped in the corner.
October 12, 1998.
May you like
And beside it, written in red ink, was a single sentence that made my blood run cold.
“The day Teresa Moretti testified against my father.”
