Chapter 8 - THE NAME ON THE DEED
The flashing red and blue lights of the ambulances illuminated the rain-soaked pier, but the world around me had gone completely silent.
I stared at the heavy parchment paper in my hands. The ink was old, faded at the edges, but the signature was undeniable.
Arthur Collins.
My father. The quiet, gentle man who worked as a high school history teacher until he died of a sudden aneurysm when I was twelve.
I looked up at Luca. His dark eyes held no surprise. Only a deep, profound sorrow.
“My father didn’t build the Moretti empire, Hannah,” Luca said quietly, the wind whipping his wet hair across his forehead. “He stole it.”
“I don’t understand,” I whispered, taking a step back, clutching the deed to my chest. “My father wasn’t wealthy. We lived in a two-bedroom apartment. We struggled to pay for groceries.”
“Because your father walked away from it,” the FBI agent interrupted gently. “Arthur Collins wasn’t just a teacher. He was the original architect of the Chicago syndicate’s finances. He built the entire legitimate front for the families. But when he realized how much blood was on the money, he tried to leave.”
The agent looked at Luca.
“And Luca’s father made sure he left with nothing,” the agent finished. “He forged documents, seized the assets, and took the mansion. He let your family live in poverty while he lived like a king.”
My chest physically ached.
I looked at my mother, who was sitting in the back of the open ambulance, wrapped in a blanket. She was watching us, tears streaming down her exhausted face. She slowly nodded, confirming every word.
She had known. She had known every time I brought home my meager paycheck from the Moretti estate. She had known I was cleaning the floors of a house that rightfully belonged to me.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked Luca, my voice breaking. “You knew this whole time?”
“I found out the week I hired you,” Luca confessed, taking a step toward me. He didn’t try to touch me; he knew he had lost that right. “I was going through my father’s old files in the study. I found the original deed. I found the truth.”
“So you hired me out of pity?” I choked out, feeling a wave of intense, nauseating humiliation. “You watched me scrub your toilets and polish your silver, knowing you were living in a stolen house?”
“I hired you to protect you!” Luca fired back, his calm facade finally cracking, revealing the desperate, protective man underneath. “Vanessa’s father was looking for you, Hannah! Arthur Bellini suspected your father had left a hidden trust behind, and he was hunting for your family to eliminate loose ends. I brought you into the most heavily guarded mansion in Chicago so I could keep you safe in plain sight!”
Teresa Moretti walked over, leaning heavily on the arm of a paramedic.
“He’s telling the truth, sweetheart,” Teresa said softly. “Luca fought with his uncle for months to get you that job. He made sure you were assigned to the safest wing of the house. He made sure your mother’s medical bills were secretly subsidized through a shell charity.”
I blinked, the tears blurring my vision.
The charity that had paid for my mother’s surgery. The sudden, anonymous donation that saved our lives three months ago. It hadn’t been a miracle. It had been Luca.
“I wanted to give the house back to you, Hannah,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a raw whisper. “I swear to God, I did. But if I transferred the deed to your name, it would have put a target on your back. The Commission would have killed you for it. I had to wait until Vanessa and her father were exposed. I had to dismantle the syndicate first.”
He looked at the deed in my hands.
“It’s yours now,” Luca said. “The house. The accounts. Everything. The FBI has seized the illegal assets, but the legitimate trust your father built is intact. You never have to work another day in your life.”
I stood in the rain, a twenty-five-year-old maid holding the keys to an empire.
I looked at Luca. The powerful mafia boss who had risked everything, including his own life tonight, to protect a girl he owed nothing to. He had spent the last eleven months carrying the guilt of his father’s sins, trying to quietly make amends.
“And what about you?” I asked softly.
Luca managed a sad, tired smile. “I’m stepping down. I’m done with this life. My mother and I are moving to Italy. To a quiet town where no one knows the Moretti name.”
Panic flared in my chest.
He was leaving.
After everything we had just survived, after seeing the true, honorable man beneath the dark suits and the terrifying reputation, he was walking away.
“Mr. Moretti,” the FBI agent said, stepping forward. “We need your statement at the field office. Vanessa is in custody, but we need your testimony to lock her away for good.”
Luca nodded. He turned to look at me one last time.
“Take care of your family, Hannah,” he said. “You’re a good woman. The best I’ve ever known.”
He turned and walked toward the waiting federal vehicles.
I watched his broad shoulders retreat into the darkness. I felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. I had my family back. I had a fortune. But as I watched Luca walk away, I realized with terrifying clarity that it wasn't enough.
I didn't want the house. I didn't want the money.
I gripped the parchment deed in my hand.
“Luca! Wait!” I shouted.
He stopped and turned around.
I ran across the wet wooden pier, my boots splashing in the puddles, until I was standing right in front of him.
May you like
I didn't say a word. I didn't need to.
I grabbed the collar of his wet suit jacket, pulled him down to my level, and kissed him.
