Chapter 2 - The Shadow By The Staircase
The heavy oak doors of the dining room stood open, and the silence in the room was absolute.
Every guest was frozen, staring toward the dark expanse of the grand foyer.
Bruno didn't back down.
The fourteen-year-old golden retriever planted his trembling paws firmly on the imported Persian rug, baring his teeth in a low, rumbling growl that echoed off the marble walls.
Luca didn't look at Vanessa.
He didn't look at the wealthy guests holding their breath.
He looked at the dog.
“Marco,” Luca said softly.
The head of security materialized from the shadows near the kitchen, his hand resting casually on the holster at his waist.
“Sir.”
“Turn on the hall lights,” Luca ordered. “And lock the front doors. No one leaves this house.”
Vanessa’s face went completely pale.
“Luca, this is ridiculous,” she stammered, stepping into his path. “It’s an old dog barking at the wind. You’re scaring the guests.”
He didn't even blink.
“Move, Vanessa.”
She hesitated, her manicured hands trembling against the red silk of her gown.
“I said move.”
She stepped aside.
Marco hit the switch.
The massive crystal chandelier in the foyer flared to life, illuminating the sweeping mahogany staircase.
At the very top of the landing, half-hidden in the shadows of the second floor, stood a figure.
It was a man.
He was holding a heavy, dark object against his chest.
Bruno’s growl turned into a sharp, furious bark.
“Michael,” Luca said.
His voice wasn't loud.
But it carried the weight of a judge handing down a sentence.
Michael Moretti, Luca’s younger brother, slowly stepped out of the shadows.
He was twenty-eight, dressed in a wrinkled suit, his face pale and sweating. He looked nothing like the confident, arrogant playboy who usually strutted through the city. He looked terrified.
Luca began walking toward the stairs.
His footsteps were slow. Deliberate.
“What are you doing up there, Michael?”
Michael swallowed hard, clutching the object tighter against his chest.
“I was just looking for a bathroom.”
“There are six bathrooms on this floor,” Luca said, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. “But you’re standing outside our father’s bedroom. The room that has been locked for four years.”
“I got lost,” Michael lied, his voice cracking.
Teresa stood up from her chair.
She leaned heavily against the dining table, her breathing shallow.
“Michael,” she called out, her voice trembling with heartbreak. “What are you holding?”
Michael froze.
Luca didn't ask twice.
He walked up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Michael tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. Luca grabbed his younger brother by the lapels of his jacket and slammed him hard against the patterned wallpaper.
The object in Michael’s hands dropped to the carpet with a heavy thud.
It wasn't the brass box.
It was a crowbar.
“You broke into our father’s room,” Luca whispered, the betrayal burning in his dark eyes. “Why?”
“I didn't!” Michael choked out. “I swear, Luca! The door was already unlocked!”
Luca’s expression hardened.
He shoved Michael aside and walked down the hallway to the massive double doors of the master suite.
The heavy brass lock had been shattered. Wood splinters littered the carpet.
Luca pushed the doors open.
The room smelled of old cologne and dust. It had been perfectly preserved since the night the former boss died.
But the wardrobe at the back of the room had been forced open.
Its contents were thrown across the floor.
Suits, ties, and the old blue robe Bruno had found earlier.
But the small, hidden compartment at the bottom of the wardrobe was empty.
The brass box was gone.
Luca turned back to Michael.
“Where is it?”
“I don't have it!” Michael cried, holding his hands up. “I swear on my life, Luca! When I got up here, the room was already trashed! The box was already gone!”
Luca grabbed him again.
“Then why were you hiding in the dark with a crowbar?”
Michael’s eyes darted downstairs.
Straight toward Vanessa.
“Because she told me to get it,” Michael whispered, his voice shaking with fear. “She told me that if I didn't break into the room and bring her the box tonight, she would tell you about the gambling debts I owe the Russians.”
Luca went completely still.
He looked down the staircase.
Vanessa was standing in the foyer, her face a mask of absolute terror.
But before Luca could speak, Bruno walked slowly into the ruined bedroom.
The old dog sniffed the splintered wood of the wardrobe.
Then he picked something up in his teeth from the floor and carried it to Luca.
Luca took the object from the dog’s mouth.
It was a heavy, gold money clip.
It was engraved with the letter B.
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It belonged to Carlo Bellini. Vanessa’s father.
And there was fresh, wet blood on the edge of it.
