Chapter 8 - The Empty Walker
“What do you mean Carlo took her?” I asked, panic immediately closing my throat.
Luca didn't answer. He turned and sprinted out of the bridal suite. I grabbed the skirts of my navy gown and ran after him, my heels clicking frantically against the marble floors of the Hawthorne Club.
We burst through the side exit into the private VIP parking garage. The black armored SUV that was supposed to transport Teresa was sitting idling near the entrance. The driver was standing outside, looking terrified, arguing with Luca’s head of security.
“I didn't leave her, Boss!” the driver shouted as Luca approached, hands raised defensively. “I swear! I brought the car around to the front of the mansion. I went inside to help her with her bags. I was gone for two minutes. When I came back out, the walker was on the driveway, and she was gone!”
Luca grabbed the man by the collar of his suit, slamming him against the side of the SUV. “You left an elderly woman alone when the Bellinis have a hit out on us?!”
“Luca, stop!” I yelled, grabbing his arm. “Hurting him won't find her! Where is the walker?”
“In the trunk,” the security chief said quickly, popping the back of the SUV.
I ran to the back. Teresa’s silver walker was lying on its side. I immediately checked the hollow silver tubing where she had hidden the confession, but it was empty. I looked closer at the handles.
Tied to the rubber grip was a single, black silk ribbon. The same ribbon that had wrapped the hidden confession.
“Luca, look,” I pointed.
Luca let go of the driver and marched over. He stared at the black ribbon. His jaw clenched so tight I thought it would snap.
“It’s a message,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “Carlo took her. He’s telling us he knows about the confession, and he knows about the ledger. If I expose him in front of the Commission today, he’ll kill her.”
“We have to call off the wedding,” I said, tears burning my eyes. “Give him the ledger, Luca. Her life isn't worth the revenge.”
“If I give him the ledger, he kills her anyway,” Luca said, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, ruining it. “He can't leave witnesses. He’s backed into a corner.”
Luca pulled his phone out and dialed Carlo’s number. It went straight to voicemail.
“He’s already inside,” Luca muttered, looking up at the ceiling of the garage, toward the ballroom above us. “He’s sitting in the front row with the Commission, playing the proud father, while his men hold my mother hostage.”
“Then we find his men,” I said, a sudden surge of adrenaline cutting through my fear. “Carlo wouldn't take her far. He needs to know he can eliminate her the second things go south. She has to be in the building.”
Luca looked at me, surprised by my sudden ferocity. Then, a dark, calculating light entered his eyes.
“The gallery,” Luca said.
“What?”
“The upstairs gallery,” Luca explained, moving quickly toward the service elevator. “The room Vanessa originally booked for the wedding. The one with no elevator access. The one she knew my mother couldn't escape from.”
It made perfect sense. It was isolated, quiet, and completely empty while all three hundred guests were downstairs in the ballroom.
“Get the security team,” I said, following him.
“No,” Luca stopped me, holding the elevator doors open. “If Carlo’s men see a squad of armed guards moving upstairs, they’ll shoot her immediately. It has to be quiet. It has to be just me.”
“I’m coming with you,” I demanded, stepping into the elevator.
“Hannah, it’s too dangerous—”
“My father died because of this family, Luca. I am not letting your mother die too. I’m going.”
Luca looked at my stubborn expression, the fierce set of my jaw. For a brief second, the tension in his face softened. He nodded once, hitting the button for the third floor.
The elevator hummed quietly as we ascended. Luca reached into his tuxedo jacket and pulled out a sleek, suppressed handgun. He checked the chamber, his movements practiced and terrifyingly efficient.
The doors chimed and slid open.
The third floor was a deserted hallway of plush red carpets and antique oil paintings, leading to the heavy double doors of the Hawthorne Gallery. The faint sound of string quartet music drifted up from the ballroom two floors below.
Standing in front of the gallery doors were two men in dark suits. Bellini’s men.
They saw Luca and immediately reached for their waistbands.
They didn't even clear their holsters. Luca raised his weapon and fired twice. Pfft. Pfft. The suppressor masked the sound to nothing more than a sharp cough. Both men dropped to the carpet, incapacitated by precise shots to their knees.
Luca didn't slow down. He stepped over the groaning men, holstered his weapon, and kicked the heavy gallery doors open with a thunderous crash.
The room was stunning, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lake.
Sitting in a lone chair in the center of the empty room was Teresa. Her hands were tied behind her back with zip-ties, but she was sitting perfectly upright, her chin held high, wearing the beautiful blue dress she had bought for the wedding.
Standing behind her, holding a suppressed pistol to the back of her head, was Vanessa Bellini.
“I wouldn't take another step, Luca,” Vanessa sneered, her white wedding gown contrasting wildly with the black gun in her hand.
“Vanessa,” Luca said calmly, raising his hands slowly. “Put the gun down. This is between me and your father.”
“My father is downstairs, drinking champagne with the Commission,” Vanessa laughed, her eyes wild and manic. “He told me to wait here. If you don't say 'I do' in exactly ten minutes, I pull the trigger. And if you try to show them that ledger, I pull the trigger.”
“You’re wearing a wedding dress, Vanessa,” I stepped out from behind Luca, my voice ringing across the empty room. “You really think you can shoot an old woman, walk downstairs covered in blood, and marry him?”
Vanessa glared at me. “I don't need to marry him, you stupid maid. My father’s men are going to kill him at the altar the second I shoot the mother. Then we take everything.”
“No,” Teresa spoke up, her voice surprisingly strong. “You take nothing.”
Vanessa pressed the barrel harder against Teresa’s silver hair. “Shut up, old woman.”
“Look out the window, Vanessa,” Teresa said, a small, triumphant smile playing on her lips.
Vanessa frowned, but she didn't look.
“Look out the window!” Luca barked, pointing toward the lake.
Vanessa’s eyes flicked to the massive glass panes.
Down below, on the private docks of the Hawthorne Club, a dozen black SUVs had just pulled up. Heavily armed men in tactical gear were pouring out, surrounding the building. But they weren't Bellini’s men. They were wearing FBI windbreakers.
“What is that?” Vanessa whispered, her hand shaking.
“That is the ledger,” Luca said coldly. “I didn't bring it to the Commission, Vanessa. Hannah’s father didn't die for mafia politics. He died as an innocent man. So I gave the ledger to the feds this morning.”
Vanessa gasped, the gun wavering in her hand.
At that exact moment, the ballroom doors two floors down burst open. Even from up here, we could hear the shouts, the panic, the absolute chaos as the FBI raided the wedding.
Vanessa looked at Luca in sheer terror. The gun dropped from her hand, clattering against the hardwood floor.
Luca closed the distance in three strides, kicking the gun away and grabbing Vanessa by the arm, shoving her away from his mother.
I ran to Teresa, grabbing a letter opener from a nearby desk and slicing the zip-ties off her wrists.
May you like
“Are you okay?” I cried, hugging her tightly.
Teresa hugged me back, laughing through her tears. “I am perfectly fine, sweetheart. I told you, I’m wearing blue today.”
