Chapter 3 - The Milwaukee Ticket
My mother.
I sat in the dirt of the freezing shed, staring at the photograph until the edges blurred.
Mary Collins was a grocery store cashier. She had raised me in a tiny apartment on the South Side. She clipped coupons. She took the bus.
She didn't know billionaires. She didn't know mafia bosses.
And she certainly didn't know Frank Moretti.
But the woman in the picture had my mother’s exact eyes, her slightly crooked smile, and the small, distinct scar above her left eyebrow.
I flipped the photo over.
On the back, written in black ink, were four words.
Keep the dog safe.
I shoved the photograph, the rosary, and the ticket back into the tin. I pushed it deep into the pocket of my wool coat and ran back to the mansion.
I didn't sleep that night.
At six in the morning, the mansion’s intercom buzzed in my small bedroom.
“Hannah,” the head housekeeper’s voice crackled. “Mr. Moretti wants you in his study. Now.”
I washed my face, put on a fresh uniform, and walked down the grand staircase. The tin felt like a brick weighing down my apron pocket.
The heavy oak doors of Luca’s study were slightly open.
I knocked twice.
“Come in.”
Luca was standing by the window, looking out over the manicured lawns. He wasn't wearing a suit today. Just a dark grey sweater and slacks. The tattoos on his hands looked stark against the morning light.
He turned around.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
He gestured to the leather chair across from his desk.
“Sit down, Hannah.”
I sat on the edge of the leather cushion.
Luca walked over and sat behind the massive mahogany desk. He looked tired. Deep shadows hung beneath his eyes.
“My mother slept through the night,” Luca said quietly. “For the first time since Tuesday. Scout didn't leave her side once.”
“I’m glad, sir.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.
“You risked your job last night. You stood up to my fiancée in front of fifty people.”
“I couldn't leave him in the cold, Mr. Moretti.”
“I know.” He studied my face. “Vanessa told me about your mother. About her hip surgery.”
I looked down. My cheeks burned with humiliation.
“I’ve already contacted the billing department at Mercy General,” Luca continued. “Your mother’s surgery is paid for. In full. Her physical therapy is covered for the next twelve months.”
My head snapped up.
“What?”
“It’s done,” Luca said. “You don't have to worry about the money anymore.”
Tears instantly flooded my eyes. I covered my mouth, completely overwhelmed. “Mr. Moretti… I don't know what to say. I can't accept that much money.”
“It’s not a gift,” he said firmly. “It’s a debt. You gave my mother her life back. This is me giving your mother hers.”
He stood up, walking around the desk.
“Take the rest of the week off, Hannah. Go be with her at the hospital.”
I looked at this man. The city feared him. The news called him a ruthless syndicate boss. But he had just saved my family with a single phone call.
I reached into my apron pocket.
“Mr. Moretti.”
He stopped. “Luca. Call me Luca.”
“Luca,” I said, my hands trembling as I pulled out the rusted tin. “There’s something you need to see. I found this last night. In Scout’s doghouse.”
He frowned, looking at the tin. “What is it?”
“Vanessa was out there in the rain. She was tearing the doghouse apart with a crowbar. I waited until she left.”
Luca’s expression instantly darkened. He took the tin from my hands and opened it.
He pulled out the train ticket.
“Milwaukee,” he murmured. “Fourteen years ago. The exact day my father brought Scout home.”
Then he pulled out the photograph.
He stared at it for a long, silent minute.
“Who is the woman?” Luca asked, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register.
“That’s my mother,” I whispered.
Luca’s head jerked up. “Mary? Your mother knew my father?”
“I didn't know. I swear to you, I had no idea.”
He looked back at the photograph. Then he pulled the heavy silver rosary out of the tin.
He held it up by the chain. The silver cross caught the morning light.
Luca went completely still. The color drained from his face.
“This wasn't hidden to protect your mother,” Luca breathed, his eyes wide with shock.
“What do you mean?”
“This rosary,” Luca said, his voice tightening with a terrifying realization. “It belonged to Vanessa’s mother. The woman who disappeared fifteen years ago. My father was investigating her disappearance right before he died.”
Before I could process what he was saying, my cell phone began ringing frantically in my pocket.
I answered it.
“Hannah Collins?” a panicked nurse’s voice echoed through the speaker.
May you like
“Yes, this is she.”
“You need to get to Mercy General right now. A private transport company just arrived with transfer orders signed by a family member. They’re taking your mother.”
