Chapter 2 - The Missing Niece
The private dining room went terrifyingly silent.
The crystal chandeliers seemed to hum above the thirty guests who were suddenly trying to make themselves as small as possible. The heavy, dark walnut walls felt like a cage.
Luca Moretti didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to. The quiet danger radiating from him was enough to freeze the air.
"What did Jenna hear, Vanessa?" Luca asked again, his voice dropping to a smooth, lethal register.
Vanessa stepped backward, her red silk gown rustling against a chair. "Nothing, Luca. It's ridiculous. Jenna has always been a dramatic girl. She was probably just looking for attention because you and I are getting married."
"She hasn't spoken to me in two years," Michael whispered, his hands gripping the edge of the table. "She wouldn't break two years of silence for attention."
Luca kept his dark eyes locked on his fiancée. "Where did she go, Vanessa? When you turned my niece away from my door, where did she go?"
Vanessa swallowed hard, her perfectly manicured fingers nervously picking at the diamond ring on her left hand. "I don't know. She just left. I told her the family was busy."
I stood near the serving station, my heart hammering against my ribs. I remembered the young woman with the yellow daisies. I remembered the sad, defeated look on her face when she walked back out into the Chicago rain.
"She took a cab," I said quietly, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
Luca turned his head sharply toward me. "Natalie?"
Vanessa shot me a look of pure, venomous hatred, but I had already crossed the line. I couldn't stop now.
"When Miss Bellini told me to return to the kitchen earlier, I walked past the front windows," I explained, my voice shaking slightly. "I saw Jenna get into a Yellow Cab. The driver was helping her with a large duffel bag."
"A duffel bag?" Michael repeated, panic seizing his chest. "She was packing? Where was she going?"
"I don't know, sir," I whispered.
Luca turned his attention back to Vanessa. He didn't yell. He simply reached out and took the untouched champagne glass from the table.
"You set my brother up to fail," Luca said softly, staring at the bubbles rising in the glass. "You deliberately placed alcohol in front of an addict, hoping his daughter would see it through the window and leave."
"I was protecting you!" Vanessa suddenly shrieked, her composed mask finally shattering. "Michael is a mess! Jenna is a mess! Your family is broken, Luca! I was trying to give us a clean start. I didn't want the Moretti family drama dragging us down!"
Luca tilted the glass, pouring the expensive champagne directly onto the pristine white tablecloth. The guests gasped as the pale liquid soaked into the fabric.
"You aren't protecting me," Luca said, setting the empty glass down with a sharp clack. "You are isolating me. And you are done."
Vanessa's face went completely slack. "Luca, don't overreact—"
"The engagement is over," Luca said coldly. He didn't look at her again. He turned to his head of security, a tall man named Marcus standing near the door. "Marcus. Escort Miss Bellini and her family out of my restaurant."
A collective murmur erupted from the guests. Vanessa’s parents, seated near the middle of the table, stood up in shock.
Vanessa tried to grab Luca’s arm, tears of humiliation welling in her eyes. "You can't do this! Not in front of everyone!"
"You had no problem humiliating my brother in front of everyone," Luca said, pulling his arm away. "Marcus."
The security guard stepped forward, offering Vanessa no choice.
As Vanessa was escorted out, her face a mask of ruined pride, Luca turned to Michael. He placed a strong, steady hand on his older brother’s shaking shoulder.
"We are going to find her, Mike," Luca promised. "Right now."
Luca looked at me. "Natalie. Call the cab company. Tell them the Moretti family needs the drop-off location of a fare picked up from this address at four-thirty. Offer them five thousand dollars for the information."
I nodded, scrambling for my phone.
Ten minutes later, as the restaurant staff quietly cleared the ruined dinner, I found Luca and Michael in the private office downstairs.
"I have the address, sir," I said, handing Luca a slip of paper. "The cab dropped her off at Union Station. She bought a ticket for the 8:00 PM train to Montreal."
Michael looked at the clock on the wall. "It's 7:15. We can still catch her."
Luca grabbed his dark wool overcoat from the rack. "Let's go."
As they moved toward the door, Luca paused and looked at me. "You noticed the cab. You noticed the bag. You're observant, Natalie."
"I try to be, sir."
"Come with us," Luca said. "Jenna is terrified of this family right now. She might not want to talk to two angry men in suits. We might need a softer approach."
I didn't argue. I grabbed my coat and followed them into the rainy Chicago night.
The drive to Union Station was agonizingly tense. Michael sat in the back of the SUV, turning the small silver bracelet over and over in his hands.
When we arrived, the massive train station was echoing with announcements and crowded with evening commuters.
"Split up," Luca ordered. "Look for the yellow daisies."
We ran through the concourses. I checked the ticket counters, the coffee shops, and the waiting areas.
At 7:45, I saw a flash of yellow near Platform 4.
Sitting on a wooden bench, looking incredibly small and frightened, was Jenna Moretti. Her large duffel bag was at her feet, and the yellow daisies were crushed in her lap.
I pulled out my phone and texted Luca the platform number, then slowly walked toward her.
"Jenna?" I asked softly.
She jumped, her head snapping up. When she saw my black and white uniform peeking out from under my coat, she recognized me from the restaurant.
"Did Vanessa send you?" Jenna asked, her voice trembling. She grabbed the handle of her duffel bag, ready to run.
"No," I said quickly, holding up my hands. "Vanessa is gone. Luca ended the engagement. Your father sent me."
Jenna’s eyes filled with tears, but she shook her head bitterly. "My father doesn't care. He was drinking champagne. I saw him through the window."
"He didn't touch it," I promised her, stepping closer. "He ordered ginger ale. Vanessa put the champagne there to trick you. He has eighteen months sober, Jenna. He bought you a silver bracelet for your birthday. He was waiting for you."
Jenna stared at me, the betrayal she had felt slowly giving way to confusion.
"Jenna."
We both turned.
Michael Moretti was running down the platform, breathless, his suit jacket unbuttoned. Luca was right behind him.
Jenna stood up, tears finally spilling down her cheeks. "Dad?"
Michael didn't care who was watching. He fell to his knees in front of his daughter and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, burying his face in her coat. He sobbed, a deep, broken sound that echoed on the platform.
Jenna hesitated, then slowly rested her hand on his head. "Dad, it's okay."
Luca stood a few feet away, watching them with a profound sense of relief. But the relief didn't last long.
When Michael finally stood up, wiping his eyes, Luca stepped forward.
"Jenna," Luca said, his voice gentle but serious. "Why were you running away to Montreal?"
Jenna looked at her uncle, then at her father. She gripped the crushed daisies in her hands.
"Because of what I heard three years ago," Jenna whispered, her voice trembling. "The night Grandpa died. The night his heart gave out."
"He had a heart attack in his sleep," Michael said softly.
"No, he didn't," Jenna said, tears falling faster now. "I was awake. I was in the library looking for a book. I heard Grandpa talking to someone in the study. They were fighting."
Luca went completely still. "Fighting with who?"
Jenna looked directly at Luca.
"With Vanessa," Jenna whispered. "She was screaming at him. And then... I heard a crash. And Grandpa stopped talking."
The blood drained from Luca’s face.
Before he could process the horrific implication of her words, Jenna reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, heavy object.
"I went into the study after she left," Jenna cried, handing the object to Luca. "Grandpa was on the floor. He was already gone. But he was holding this."
Luca looked down at his hand.
Resting in his palm was a heavy, gold money clip.
It didn't belong to his father. It didn't belong to Vanessa.
It was engraved with the initials D.B.
"That's Dominic Bellini's money clip," Michael breathed, recognizing the initials of Vanessa's father, the head of a rival Chicago family.
Luca’s hand closed tightly around the gold clip.
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Vanessa hadn't just humiliated his brother tonight. She hadn't just tried to isolate him.
She had married into his family to cover up a murder.
