Chapter 8 - THE REAL HUSBAND REVEALED
The phone slipped from my fingers, dangling by the cord.
Vanessa killed Elena.
Vanessa, the woman who had lived in Luca’s house, worn his ring, kissed him goodnight, and pretended to care for his son. She was the one who had murdered Daniel’s mother in a hit-and-run ten years ago. And then she had infiltrated his family to steal his empire.
“Hannah?” Luca’s voice cracked through the receiver.
I grabbed the phone. “I’m here.”
“Lock the doors,” Luca ordered, his voice shifting from shock to pure, militaristic command. “Do not let anyone into that penthouse. I am coming there now. We are moving you, my mother, and Daniel out of the country tonight.”
“Why?” I panicked. “You have them in custody!”
“Arthur confessed something else,” Luca said quickly. “Vanessa’s father isn’t just a greedy businessman. He’s the head of the Chicago Syndicate. He sent Vanessa to kill Elena ten years ago to destabilize my family. The marriage was supposed to be the final takeover. If they know Arthur talked, they will send a hit squad to the penthouse to wipe out my bloodline.”
“Oh my god,” I whispered.
“I have men on the way. Be ready to move in five minutes.”
He hung up.
I bolted out of the kitchen. “Daniel! Mrs. Moretti! Wake up! We have to go, now!”
I rushed into Teresa’s room, pulling a thick coat over her nightgown. I helped her into her slippers, my hands shaking so badly I could barely tie the laces. I ran to Daniel’s room. He was already sitting up, his eyes wide with fear.
“Hannah, what’s happening?” he asked.
“Your dad is coming to get us. We’re going on a trip,” I lied, trying to keep my voice steady. “Put your shoes on.”
I grabbed my purse and slung it over my shoulder. We moved to the front entrance of the penthouse. The two security guards were standing by the reinforced oak door, their weapons drawn.
“Boss said to hold down the fort until he arrives,” one of the guards said, checking the magazine of his pistol.
Suddenly, the elevator bell dinged in the private hallway outside.
The guards raised their weapons.
“Step back, Hannah,” the guard warned.
I pushed Daniel and Teresa behind me, backing into the hallway.
The heavy doors to the penthouse suddenly blew open with a deafening explosion. Wood and metal shrapnel flew through the air. The two guards fired, but they were immediately gunned down by men in tactical gear pouring into the foyer.
I screamed, pushing Teresa and Daniel toward the panic room Luca had shown me earlier.
But a hand grabbed my hair, yanking me backward.
I fell hard onto the marble floor.
A pair of high heels clicked into my field of vision.
I looked up.
Vanessa stood there, holding a silver handgun. Her evening gown was torn, her makeup smeared, and she had a wild, manic look in her eyes. Victor was standing right behind her, holding an assault rifle.
“Did you really think a basement lock could hold me?” Vanessa laughed, aiming the gun at my forehead.
“Leave her alone!” Daniel screamed, running forward and stepping between me and the gun.
Vanessa tilted her head. “Oh, Danny. You look just like your mother when she begged for her life.”
She cocked the gun.
“Say goodbye to the maid.”
But before she could pull the trigger, the glass windows of the penthouse balcony shattered inward as a black helicopter hovered outside, its searchlight blinding us all.
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And through the shattered glass, Luca Moretti stepped in, holding a weapon of his own.
“Vanessa,” Luca said, his voice echoing over the roar of the helicopter blades. “Look at your wrist.”
