Chapter 2 - THE SUITCASE IN THE DRIVEWAY
The roar of the engine cut through the dining room's stunned silence.
I didn't wait for permission. I dropped the wheelchair handles and sprinted toward the front foyer, my black flats skidding on the polished marble.
"Hannah!" Luca’s voice thundered behind me, his heavy footsteps following instantly.
I burst through the heavy mahogany front doors and out into the crisp Chicago night. The driveway was illuminated by antique gas lamps, casting long, frantic shadows.
A black sedan was already rolling toward the heavy iron security gates.
"Stop that car!" Luca roared to the armed guards stationed near the entrance.
The guards immediately drew their weapons and stepped in front of the gate. The sedan screeched to a halt, tires smoking against the pavement.
Luca flew past me, his dark suit blending into the night. He reached the driver's side door, yanked it open with terrifying force, and dragged the driver out onto the gravel.
It was Victor.
Sophie’s maternal grandfather. A man who had lost custody of Sophie after a gambling addiction drove him to sell syndicate secrets. Luca had banished him from the property three years ago.
"What are you doing with my daughter?" Luca’s voice was a lethal whisper. He pressed his forearm against Victor’s throat, pinning the older man against the hood of the car.
"I was just taking her for the weekend, Luca!" Victor choked out, his eyes wide with fear. "Vanessa said it was fine! She said you needed a break before the wedding!"
Answer one: Vanessa hadn't just packed the bag. She had actively orchestrated handing an eight-year-old over to a banished, desperate man.
I didn't care about Victor. I ran to the back door of the sedan and wrenched it open.
Sitting in the backseat, slumped against the leather, was Sophie.
She was wearing her favorite yellow pajamas, her little head lolling to the side. At her feet was the pink suitcase I had seen Vanessa carrying.
"Sophie!" I gasped, reaching in and gently shaking her shoulder. "Sweetie, wake up."
She didn't stir. Her breathing was shallow.
"Mr. Moretti!" I panicked, my voice breaking. "She's not waking up! She's been drugged!"
Luca dropped Victor instantly. He rushed to the back door, his face draining of all color when he saw his daughter. He carefully gathered her into his massive arms, lifting her out of the car.
"Daniel!" Luca yelled to his security chief. "Lock Victor in the basement. Nobody leaves this estate. Call the private doctor. Now."
We rushed back into the mansion. The forty engagement guests were standing in the foyer, murmuring in terrified confusion. Vanessa stood at the bottom of the grand staircase, her face pale, twisting her diamond engagement ring.
"Luca, darling," Vanessa stammered, stepping forward. "Victor just showed up. I was trying to get rid of him quietly so he wouldn't ruin the party—"
"Shut up," Luca said, carrying Sophie past her without a glance.
I followed him up the stairs to Sophie’s pink-and-white bedroom. Luca laid her gently on the bed, brushing her dark curls away from her forehead. His hands, which I had only ever seen grip whiskey glasses and sign billion-dollar contracts, were shaking.
"She'll be okay," I whispered, pulling the covers over her small shoulders. "Her pulse is steady."
Luca looked at me, a profound, raw gratitude in his dark eyes.
"You noticed the suitcase," he said quietly. "You saved her, Hannah."
Before I could respond, my foot brushed against something hard on the floor.
I looked down. It was the pink suitcase. It had popped open when one of the guards carried it upstairs.
Clothes had spilled out. But resting on top of a folded sweater was a child's drawing.
I picked it up.
It was a drawing of Vanessa. But she wasn't smiling. In the drawing, Vanessa was holding a small, silver object, handing it to a man with no face.
And drawn heavily in red crayon at the bottom of the page was a symbol. A snake wrapping around a dagger.
I handed the drawing to Luca.
"Mr. Moretti," I whispered. "That's not Victor's symbol."
Luca stared at the red crayon. His jaw hardened into stone.
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"No," Luca said, his voice turning deadly cold. "It's the crest of the New York syndicate."
TITLE: THE SYMBOL IN RED CRAYON
