Chapter 10 - The Missing Matriarch
The perfect night shattered like glass on a tile floor.
“Taken?” I gasped, clutching Luca’s arm. “What do you mean taken? Who would take Teresa?”
Luca didn't answer. He was already moving, his strides long and aggressive as he stormed back into the private dining room. The romantic ambiance of the restaurant evaporated instantly as he barked an order in rapid-fire Italian to his security detail.
Marco, who was finishing a slice of cake, dropped his fork. The relaxed brother I had just gotten to know vanished, replaced instantly by the lethal head of security.
“Boss?” Marco asked, standing up so fast his chair tipped over.
“My mother is gone,” Luca snarled, his eyes burning with a terrifying rage. “Silvio was found bleeding in the alley behind the restaurant. The car is empty.”
Marco pulled his sidearm from his shoulder holster, checking the chamber without hesitation. “Lock down the building. No one leaves. Get the cars out front.”
The next hour was a blur of flashing lights, shouting men, and pure chaos.
We rushed back to the Moretti mansion. The massive estate, which had always felt like an impenetrable fortress, now felt violated. Armed guards patrolled the perimeter with dogs.
Luca stood in his father’s old study, staring at a bank of security monitors that showed nothing but empty streets.
“There was no ransom note,” Marco said, walking into the study, his suit jacket discarded, his sleeves rolled up. “No phone call. The rival families are quiet. Whoever took her did it with precision.”
“People do not take Teresa Moretti for money,” Luca said quietly, staring at the screens. “They take her to make a statement. Or to lure me out.”
I stood in the corner of the room, twisting the promise ring on my finger. My heart was pounding so hard I felt sick. Teresa had been a mother to me when I had no one. She had defended me against Blake. She had given me back my dignity.
“Luca,” I said softly, stepping toward him. “Could it be Arthur Volante? Retaliation for taking his company?”
Luca shook his head. “Arthur is sitting in a federal holding cell. He doesn't have the manpower on the outside to pull off a hit like this.”
“What about Blake?” Marco suggested, though he sounded skeptical. “He’s desperate.”
“Blake is a coward,” Luca dismissed. “He wouldn't have the spine to attack my mother directly.”
As they debated, I walked over to the large mahogany desk in the center of the room. It was Teresa’s desk now. She spent hours here reading the family ledgers.
Something caught my eye.
Teresa’s leather day-planner was open on the desk. She was old-fashioned; she wrote everything down in pen.
I looked at the entry for today’s date.
8:00 PM - Dinner with Luca and Nora.
But beneath that, scrawled in red ink, was a second entry. An entry added later.
11:00 PM - Meet with Father Thomas. St. Jude’s Cathedral. Bring the key.
“Luca,” I called out, my voice cutting through the tense silence. “Look at this.”
Luca and Marco rushed over. Luca read the red ink, his brow furrowing deep.
“St. Jude’s?” Luca muttered. “That’s the old parish on the east side. The one my father helped fund before he died. Why would she be meeting a priest at midnight?”
“And what key?” Marco asked.
Luca’s eyes widened. He ran out of the study and down the hall toward his mother’s private chambers. Marco and I chased after him.
Luca burst into Teresa’s bedroom. He went straight for her antique jewelry box on the vanity, ripping open the bottom drawer.
It was empty.
“The chapel key,” Luca breathed, running a hand through his dark hair. “It’s a heavy iron key that opens the crypt beneath St. Jude’s. Where my father is buried. She always kept it right here.”
“She wasn't kidnapped,” I realized, the pieces falling together. “She left willingly. She had her driver pull into the alley to avoid your security team, and she slipped away to the church.”
“But why would she knock out her own driver?” Marco asked.
“She didn't,” Luca said, his voice tight. “Silvio is intensely loyal. If she ordered him to let her go alone, he would refuse. If someone else intercepted them in the alley to take her to the church... they would have to put Silvio down.”
Luca drew his own weapon, slipping it into his waistband.
“We are going to St. Jude’s,” Luca ordered.
We sped across the city, the rain returning, slicking the dark streets. The east side of the city was quiet, industrial, and abandoned.
St. Jude’s Cathedral loomed at the end of a dead-end street. It was a massive, gothic stone structure, mostly unused since the neighborhood gentrified.
The heavy oak doors were chained shut from the outside.
“She didn't go through the front,” Luca said, moving silently toward the graveyard behind the church.
We followed him through the wet grass, the headstones looking like teeth in the moonlight. In the center of the graveyard was a stone mausoleum. The entrance to the family crypt.
The heavy iron gate was swung wide open.
A faint, flickering orange light glowed from deep down the stone steps.
Luca held up a hand, signaling for absolute silence. He drew his gun, nodding to Marco, who did the same.
I stayed close behind them as we crept down the damp stone stairs into the catacombs.
The crypt was massive, lined with marble tombs.
At the far end, illuminated by a dozen flickering candles, stood Teresa.
She wasn't tied up. She wasn't bleeding.
She was standing perfectly still, her hands clasped over her walker, staring at the large marble tomb of her late husband, Vittorio Moretti.
Standing on the other side of the tomb, pointing a gun directly at Teresa’s chest, was Silvio.
Her loyal driver.
“Silvio,” Luca shouted, stepping into the candlelight, his weapon leveled at the man’s head. “Drop the gun, or I put a bullet between your eyes.”
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Silvio didn't flinch. He didn't drop the gun. He just looked at Luca with a sad, twisted smile.
“You’re too late, Boss,” Silvio said, his voice echoing in the stone chamber. “She already knows.”
