Chapter 3 - THE VOICE ON THE SPEAKERPHONE
The phone vibrated against the mahogany table.
Everyone stared at it.
Frank had stopped breathing. His eyes were locked on the silver rosary in Luca’s hand, then shifted to the glowing screen of Noah’s phone.
Vanessa was gripping the edge of a chair so hard her knuckles were white.
“Don't answer it,” she whispered.
Luca looked at her.
Then he reached down, pressed the green button, and put the phone on speaker.
Silence filled the dining room.
“Hello?” Luca said.
A heavy, raspy breath came through the speaker.
Then, a man’s voice.
“You finally answered, little man.”
Noah shrank behind his father.
Luca’s jaw tightened. “This isn't Noah. This is Luca Moretti. Who the hell are you?”
A dark chuckle echoed from the phone.
“Ah. The grieving widow. I guess the kid finally showed you the picture.”
“Who are you?” Luca demanded.
“A ghost,” the man said. “A ghost who didn't get his final payment.”
Vanessa lunged for the phone. “Hang up!”
Daniel caught her by the arm and pulled her back. She struggled, her perfect hair falling across her face.
The man on the phone laughed. “Is that Vanessa? Sounds like Vanessa. Tell her I said hello. Tell her the price just went up.”
Luca stared at his fiancée.
“What price?” Luca asked the man.
“The price for keeping quiet about what really happened on Route 114.”
Luca went perfectly still. Route 114 was where his wife’s car was found.
“I’m listening,” Luca said softly.
“No,” Vanessa sobbed. “Luca, please! It’s a trick. He’s using AI to fake his voice!”
“Shut up,” Luca told her. He leaned closer to the phone. “How much do you want?”
“I don't want your money, Moretti,” the caller said. “I wanted hers. But since she stopped picking up my calls, I figured I’d send the kid a little gift to get her attention.”
“How did you get my wife’s rosary?” Luca asked.
The man stopped laughing.
“Your wife’s? Oh, no. That rosary belonged to Frank. He dropped it in the mud while he was pulling Vanessa out of the passenger seat.”
Frank lunged toward the terrace doors.
He didn't make it two steps.
Three security guards tackled him to the floor. Crystal shattered. Women screamed.
Frank hit the ground hard, gasping for air as Daniel pinned his arms behind his back.
Luca didn't even look at the struggle. His eyes were locked on the phone.
“Frank was there?” Luca asked, his voice deadly calm.
“Frank drove the truck that ran her off the road,” the caller said. “Vanessa was inside the car, making sure your wife took that specific route. They thought I was just a passing tow-truck driver. They paid me to keep driving. But I have a dashcam.”
Vanessa collapsed to her knees.
She wasn't faking it this time. The strength completely left her legs.
“Send me the footage,” Luca said.
“I want two million dollars.”
“You’ll have it tonight. Send the footage.”
“Check your email, Moretti. And watch your back. Frank wasn't the one paying the bills.”
The line went dead.
The dining room felt like a graveyard.
Luca slowly turned toward Frank, who was bleeding on the floor.
Then he looked at Vanessa, sobbing into her hands.
“Emma,” Luca said.
I jumped. “Yes, sir?”
“Take Noah upstairs. Now.”
Noah grabbed my hand. His fingers were freezing.
“Come on, sweetie,” I whispered. We walked toward the grand staircase.
Before we reached the steps, Vanessa looked up at me. Her eyes were filled with pure, venomous hatred.
“You think you won?” she hissed at me. “You think you’re safe?”
Luca stepped between us.
“Don't speak to her,” Luca told Vanessa.
“She’s a spy!” Vanessa yelled, pointing at me. “Ask her where she was the night your wife died, Luca! Ask her!”
I stopped on the stairs.
My blood ran cold.
Luca turned to look at me.
“What is she talking about, Emma?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I… I don't know. I was in college five years ago.”
Vanessa started laughing hysterically from the floor.
“Check the girl’s background, Luca! Check her mother’s name! She didn't come to work here by accident!”
I stared at her. My mother? My mother died of cancer when I was nineteen. What did she have to do with this?
Then, the heavy oak front doors of the mansion slammed open.
Standing in the doorway, soaked in rain that hadn't been falling ten minutes ago, was a man I recognized instantly.
He was wearing a dark suit.
He held a black umbrella.
It was Luca’s father. Don Salvatore Moretti.
And in his left hand, he was holding a woman’s blue coat.
May you like
A coat I had last seen hanging in my own apartment hallway, belonging to my little sister.
TITLE: THE COAT FROM MY APARTMENT
