Chapter 8 - THE SCAR ON THE LEFT SHOULDER
An hour later, the heavy iron gates of the Moretti estate swung open.
Two armored black SUVs drove up the long, rain-slicked driveway, parking near the grand entrance.
I stood on the front steps, my heart in my throat.
Luca stood beside me, the rain hitting the shoulders of his dark suit. He hadn't spoken since realizing his father was murdered. The quiet, simmering rage rolling off him was terrifying.
Enzo opened the back door of the second SUV.
He gently helped an older woman step out.
It was my mother.
She looked small and frail in her heavy winter coat, leaning heavily on a cane. Her face was pale, showing the toll of her recent heart surgery, but her eyes were sharp.
“Mom!” I ran down the steps and threw my arms around her.
“Hannah,” she breathed, holding me tight. “Are you okay? These men just showed up at the apartment and told me you were in trouble.”
“I’m fine,” I cried, pulling back to look at her. “I’m safe. But Mom… they need to ask you some questions.”
My mother looked up.
She saw Luca Moretti standing at the top of the steps.
She froze.
The color completely drained from her already pale face.
“Mr. Moretti,” my mother whispered.
Luca walked slowly down the steps.
He didn't look angry when he looked at her. He looked desperate.
“Margaret,” Luca said softly.
“You know who I am,” she said, gripping her cane tighter.
“I know you worked at Saint Jude’s four years ago,” Luca said. “I know you were on shift the day my father was brought in.”
My mother closed her eyes and let out a long, shaky breath.
“I knew this day would come,” she whispered.
Luca gestured toward the open front doors.
“Please. Come inside. It’s freezing.”
We walked into the warm, brightly lit foyer. Teresa was waiting in the drawing room with Mia and Evelyn. I guided my mother to a plush armchair near the fireplace.
Luca sat across from her.
He handed her the stained, smudged piece of paper I had found in the broken dish.
My mother took it. Her hands trembled as she read the words.
...Margaret knows the truth about the hospital... she kept the secret... protect her daughter, Hannah...
Tears spilled over her cheeks.
“He was a good man,” my mother whispered.
“Tell me what happened,” Luca pleaded, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Please. Tell me how my father died.”
My mother looked at me, then at Luca.
“It was chaotic,” she began, her voice weak but steady. “They brought him in through the emergency bay. Massive cardiac event. But he was alive. His heart was still beating.”
Luca squeezed his eyes shut, a muscle jumping in his jaw.
“We stabilized him in Trauma Room 3,” my mother continued. “The doctor said he was going to make it. He just needed rest and a bypass. The doctor left the room to speak to the family.”
“To Marco,” Luca said bitterly.
“Yes. Marco came into the room a few minutes later. He told me to leave. He said he wanted a moment alone with his brother.”
My mother swallowed hard, her hand moving unconsciously to her left shoulder.
“I stepped outside into the hallway,” she said. “But the blinds on the door were partially open. I looked back inside.”
She looked directly into Luca’s eyes.
“Marco wasn't talking to him, Mr. Moretti. Marco picked up a syringe from the medical cart. He injected something directly into your father’s IV line.”
A collective gasp echoed from the drawing room doorway, where Teresa had been listening.
“I rushed back in,” my mother cried, the memory overwhelming her. “I screamed for security! I tried to pull the IV out, but Marco grabbed me.”
My mother slowly unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse and pulled the fabric to the side.
Right below her collarbone, a jagged, ugly scar marred her skin.
“He pulled a knife,” my mother whispered. “He slashed me. He told me that if I said a word to anyone, he would find my daughter—he would find Hannah—and he would kill her.”
I covered my mouth with my hands, sobbing.
My mother had lived with this terror for four years to protect me.
“Your father was awake,” my mother said, looking back at Luca. “He couldn't speak, but he saw Marco stab me. He knew he was dying from whatever Marco injected.”
“Digitalis,” Enzo muttered from the doorway. “Causes immediate heart failure. Untraceable if they don't look for it.”
“Marco left the room before security arrived,” my mother finished. “Before the poison took him, your father grabbed my hand. He asked for a piece of paper. I gave him the admission form. He wrote that note and told me to take it to his wife. He said to bake it into the blue dish, because he knew Marco would never let Teresa keep anything else.”
Luca sat in absolute silence.
A tear slipped down his cheek, but his face was set in stone.
His father had spent his last moments trying to protect a terrified nurse and ensure his family eventually found the truth.
Luca stood up.
He didn't say a word. He turned and walked toward the hallway leading to the basement.
“Luca!” Teresa called out, frightened by the look in his eyes.
Luca ignored her. He opened the basement door and disappeared down the stairs.
A moment later, a single, muffled gunshot echoed from beneath the floorboards.
I jumped, clutching my mother’s hand.
Teresa closed her eyes, making the sign of the cross over her chest.
A few minutes later, Luca walked back up the stairs.
He was wiping his hands with a handkerchief. His face was blank.
Uncle Marco would never betray the family again.
Luca walked back into the drawing room.
He looked at my mother.
“Margaret,” Luca said quietly. “You risked your life to save my father. You kept his secret to protect your daughter. And because of you, I finally have the truth.”
Luca reached into his jacket pocket.
He pulled out a heavy gold ring with the Moretti family crest—the ring he wore on his pinky finger.
He held it out to my mother.
“If you or your daughter ever need anything in this life,” Luca vowed, his voice echoing with absolute authority, “you show this ring to anyone in Chicago, and my entire empire will answer. You are under my protection until the day I die.”
My mother took the ring, weeping in gratitude.
The nightmare was finally over.
I looked at Luca. He was a ruthless man, but he was a fiercely loyal one.
As the night finally began to settle, I realized I still had a job to do.
I walked back into the dining room to clean up the broken dish.
I knelt down, sweeping the last of the ceramic shards into the dustpan.
As I brushed the final pieces away, I noticed the heavy wooden floorboard beneath the fireplace hearth was loose.
The impact of the heavy ceramic dish had shifted the wood.
I reached out and pulled the loose floorboard away.
Underneath, hidden in a shallow cavity in the floor, was a small, dusty velvet box.
I picked it up and opened it.
Inside was a breathtaking diamond engagement ring.
But it wasn't Vanessa’s ring.
It was much older. More elegant.
May you like
And tucked beneath the ring was a small, folded note with my name written on it.
For Hannah.
