Chapter 3 - The Ghost in the Briefcase
The heavy brass key felt cold against my palm, but it carried the weight of an anchor.
I stared at it, then up at Luca. His dark eyes were utterly serious. The twenty-six donors at the table watched in stunned silence. Even Teresa Moretti stood by, a soft, encouraging smile on her face.
“Mr. Moretti,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t accept this. We can’t just move into your home.”
“Nora, listen to me,” Luca said softly, keeping his large hand on my shoulder. “Vanessa triggered a state investigation. Child Services will look at your address, your income, and your assets. If you live in a tiny apartment above a dry cleaner, they will use it against you. If you live here, in a secure, private wing of the Moretti estate, with a fully funded trust account in your name, they won't have a single legal ground to stand on.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “A trust account? Sir, I haven't earned that. I’m just a maid.”
“You are a mother fighting for her child,” Luca corrected gently. “And no mother under my roof is going to lose her daughter because of a vindictive lie.”
Lucy peeked out from behind my shoulder. She looked at the brass key in my hand, then up at Luca.
“Does the west wing have a garden?” Lucy asked quietly.
Luca’s stern face broke into a warm, genuine smile. “It has a very big garden, sweetheart. With a greenhouse you can paint in whenever you want.”
Lucy’s eyes widened. She looked at me, silently begging.
I swallowed the lump of pride in my throat. I had spent six years trying to do everything on my own. I had worked double shifts, skipped meals, and worn shoes with holes in the soles just to make sure Lucy had what she needed. But this wasn't about my pride. This was about keeping my daughter.
I closed my fingers tightly around the key. “Thank you, Mr. Moretti.”
“Luca,” he corrected softly.
Before I could say anything else, the heavy dining room doors swung open again.
Marco, the head of security, stepped inside. He looked tense. He didn't look at me or the donors; his eyes locked directly onto Luca.
“Boss,” Marco said, his voice tight. “We have a problem. Vanessa didn't just pack her bags.”
Luca stood up, his expression instantly hardening back into the ruthless man the city feared. “What did she do?”
“She broke into your private study,” Marco said, glancing nervously at the guests. “She took the black briefcase from the safe.”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
Teresa Moretti gasped, her hand flying to her pearl necklace.
Luca went perfectly still. His jaw clenched so tightly the muscles jumped beneath his skin. “Did she leave the property?”
“She’s at the front gates in her car,” Marco replied. “The guards have the gates locked, but she’s refusing to get out of the vehicle. She says she won't hand over the briefcase unless she speaks to Nora.”
My stomach plummeted. “Me?”
Luca turned to me, his dark eyes flashing with a dangerous mix of fury and fear. “Stay here with Lucy. Do not go out there.”
He marched toward the doors, Marco right behind him. But I couldn't just sit there. If Vanessa had stolen something important enough to make a mafia boss pale, and she was demanding to see me, this wasn't just a tantrum. It was a threat.
“Mrs. Moretti,” I said quickly, turning to Teresa. “Can you watch Lucy for a moment?”
Teresa nodded, pulling Lucy close to her side. “Go. But be careful, Nora.”
I ran out of the dining room, my black maid’s dress sweeping the floor as I chased after Luca down the grand hallway. I burst through the heavy front doors just as Luca was approaching the massive iron gates of the estate.
Vanessa’s red sports car was idling in front of the locked gates.
Vanessa stood outside the driver’s door, holding a sleek black briefcase against her chest like a shield. She looked disheveled, her perfect hair windblown, her mascara slightly smudged. But her eyes were wild with desperate triumph.
“Vanessa!” Luca roared, his voice echoing across the manicured lawn. “Put the briefcase down and walk away. If you open it, I swear to God I will bury you.”
Vanessa laughed—a shrill, unstable sound. She looked past Luca and saw me running up behind him.
“There she is!” Vanessa called out. “The devoted mother!”
I stopped beside Luca, my chest heaving. “What do you want, Vanessa? You already tried to take my daughter. What else could you possibly want?”
Vanessa smiled bitterly. “I wanted to know why Andrew Bennett, a nobody who worked as a low-level accountant, had a file in the personal safe of the Moretti family.”
The world stopped spinning.
My husband. Andrew.
“What are you talking about?” I whispered.
Luca grabbed my arm, trying to pull me back. “Nora, don't listen to her. Get back inside.”
“No,” I resisted, staring at the black briefcase in Vanessa’s arms. “Andrew didn't know the Moretti family. He worked for a small logistics firm downtown.”
Vanessa’s smile widened into a cruel grin. She set the briefcase on the hood of her car and popped the latches. It sprang open.
She pulled out a thick, manila folder.
“Your husband didn't work for a logistics firm, Nora,” Vanessa shouted over the idling engine of her car. “He worked for Luca. He cooked the books for the Moretti family’s illegal gambling rings. And six years ago, when the feds started closing in, Andrew made a deal.”
“Shut your mouth, Vanessa!” Luca bellowed, pulling a heavy black pistol from his shoulder holster. He aimed it directly at her.
My breath caught. I had never seen Luca hold a weapon before. The reality of who he was crashed over me, but the horror of Vanessa’s words drowned it out.
“Shoot me, Luca!” Vanessa screamed, holding the file up. “Shoot me in front of her! Let her see what you really are!”
She turned to me, her eyes burning with malicious joy.
“Andrew was going to turn state’s evidence, Nora!” Vanessa yelled. “He was going to testify against the Moretti family in exchange for witness protection for him and Lucy! But he died of a sudden heart attack the night before his testimony.”
I shook my head, tears springing to my eyes. “He had a bad heart. It was a medical condition.”
Vanessa pulled a single piece of paper from the file and held it up in the moonlight.
“This is a toxicology report from the Moretti family’s private doctor,” Vanessa said, her voice dripping with poison. “Andrew didn't have a heart attack, Nora. He was poisoned.”
I couldn't breathe. My knees buckled, but Luca’s strong arm caught me, holding me upright.
May you like
Vanessa looked right at Luca, then back to me.
“He didn't die naturally, Nora. Luca killed your husband.”
