Chapter 4 - THE TRAITOR IN THE RANKS
The gunshot echoed like a cannon in the rain.
The guard screamed, collapsing onto the wet asphalt, clutching his shattered knee. The other two guards leaped back in absolute terror, raising their hands defensively.
I gasped, covering my mouth, stumbling backward. I had known Luca was a mafia boss, but I had never seen the violence. I had only ever seen the quiet, reserved man who drank his coffee alone in the mornings.
Luca didn't flinch. He walked over to the screaming man on the ground, his gun still drawn, entirely unfazed by the storm.
“You’re lying,” Luca said, his voice cold and flat.
“I swear to God, Boss!” the guard wept in agony. “I didn't see anything!”
Luca pressed the barrel of the gun against the man’s other knee.
“Vanessa doesn't have the authority to bypass the security cameras,” Luca stated logically. “Only the gate captain does. You’re the gate captain. Who paid you?”
The guard sobbed, the pain breaking his loyalty instantly.
“Marco!” the guard cried out. “Marco Rossi paid me! He said Vanessa was going to hand the territory over to New York! He just wanted the kid as insurance!”
Luca lowered the gun. His eyes were dark, fathomless pools of rage.
Marco Rossi. The rival boss whose name was on the plane tickets inside Vanessa’s purse.
“Where did they take her?” Luca demanded.
“The old shipyard,” the guard gasped, trembling violently. “Pier 44. That’s where Rossi’s men are holding her.”
Luca turned to the other two guards. “Take this garbage to the basement. Tie him up. If he bleeds out, he bleeds out.”
He turned back to me. His terrifying demeanor softened just a fraction when he saw how badly I was shaking.
“Emma,” Luca said quietly, stepping closer. “Go inside. Lock yourself in my study. You’ll be safe there.”
“No,” I said, finding a sudden, desperate surge of courage.
Luca frowned. “This isn't a negotiation. It’s going to be a warzone.”
“I’m not hiding,” I insisted, reaching into my soaked apron pocket. “Because I found something you need to see right now.”
I pulled out the heavy silver locket and the waterproof pouch.
I handed them to him under the harsh light of the security lamps.
Luca opened the locket first. He stared at the photograph of his brother holding the baby. Then, he read the engraving.
To Vanessa. For our beautiful secret. - Julian.
I watched the realization hit him. The realization that his brother hadn't been tricked. Julian had loved Vanessa. Julian had known about the child.
“He knew,” Luca whispered, his voice cracking with a profound, heavy grief. “Julian knew he was a father.”
“And Vanessa killed him for it,” I said softly.
Luca’s head snapped up. “What?”
I pointed to the waterproof pouch. “The man in the bushes was a harbor master. He pulled Julian’s body from the water six years ago. He gave me that logbook. It proves Vanessa was on the boat the night Julian died. She pushed him, Luca. She murdered your brother.”
The silence that followed was the most terrifying thing I had ever experienced.
Luca didn't scream. He didn't break anything.
He stood perfectly still in the pouring rain, absorbing the absolute betrayal of the woman he had invited into his home, the woman he had almost married.
When he finally looked up, the grief was gone. Only a cold, absolute executioner remained.
“Get in the car,” Luca ordered, walking toward a sleek, black armored SUV parked near the house.
“I thought you told me to stay in the study,” I said, hurrying after him.
“You found the proof,” Luca said, opening the passenger door for me. “You’re the only person I can trust right now. And I’m going to need you to watch my back.”
I climbed into the passenger seat, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Luca got behind the wheel, checking his weapons. He didn't call for backup. He didn't assemble an army.
“We’re going to Pier 44,” Luca said, throwing the SUV into drive. “Just the two of us?” I asked, terrified.
“If I bring my men, Rossi will execute the child before we breach the gates,” Luca said grimly, speeding out of the estate. “We go in quiet. We get Mia out. Then, I burn the pier to the ground.”
We drove through the dark, rain-slicked streets of Chicago. The tension in the car was suffocating.
“Luca,” I asked hesitantly, clutching the dashboard. “If Vanessa killed Julian, why would she keep the child a secret for six years? Why not just use Mia to claim the inheritance immediately?”
Luca’s jaw tightened. “Because my father left a stipulation in the family trust. The inheritance doesn't pass to a child until they turn seven. If Julian died without an heir, the entire empire passed to me. But if he had a child... the empire goes into a blind trust controlled by the mother until the child comes of age.”
I gasped. “Mia turns seven next month.”
“Exactly,” Luca nodded. “Vanessa waited. She let me build the empire, legitimize the businesses, and grow the wealth. She was going to marry me, murder me, and then reveal the child to claim everything.”
It was brilliant. And it was pure evil.
We arrived at the industrial district near the lakefront. The sprawling, rusted shipyard of Pier 44 loomed in the fog.
Luca parked the SUV two blocks away, hidden in a dark alley.
“Stay close to me,” Luca whispered, handing me a small, heavy flashlight. “If shooting starts, you drop to the ground and you don't move.”
We crept through the shadows of the massive shipping containers. The rain masked our footsteps.
As we approached the main warehouse, I saw two guards standing near the loading dock, smoking cigarettes.
Luca didn't hesitate. He melted into the darkness, moving with terrifying speed. He grabbed the first guard from behind, snapping his neck in one fluid motion, and caught the second guard before he could even raise his weapon, knocking him unconscious with the butt of his gun.
He waved me forward.
We slipped through the side door of the warehouse.
The interior was massive, dimly lit by hanging industrial bulbs.
In the center of the room, surrounded by a dozen armed men, sat Marco Rossi.
And tied to a wooden chair in front of him, crying silently, was six-year-old Mia.
But my blood ran completely cold when I saw who was standing next to the little girl, holding a gun to her head.
It wasn't Vanessa.
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It was Mrs. Miller.
TITLE: THE GRANDMOTHER’S SECRET
