Chapter 2 - THE PAWN TICKET IN HIS POCKET
“Daniel, how much money have you collected by telling your own mother that Claire has cancer?”
The silence in the dining room was so absolute I could hear the grandfather clock ticking in the hallway.
Thirty elite guests held their breath.
Daniel’s face drained of color, his practiced, charming smile shattering into something brittle and panicked. He looked at Evelyn, his elderly mother, who was trembling in her seat, then back at Luca.
“Mr. Moretti,” Daniel stammered, his voice dropping an octave as he tried to regain control. “There’s been a massive misunderstanding. My mother is confused. She’s mixing up conversations.”
Teresa struck her cane against the marble floor.
“I am old, Daniel. I am not deaf, and I am certainly not stupid.”
Teresa turned to the crowd, her voice carrying the weight of a matriarch who had ruled Chicago’s underworld for decades. “Evelyn sat in my sunroom three weeks ago, crying over her tea. She told me she had taken out a second mortgage on her small home because Daniel said Claire needed experimental chemotherapy.”
My knees gave out.
If Luca hadn’t stepped forward, wrapping a firm, warm hand around my waist, I would have collapsed onto the hardwood floor.
“Chemotherapy?” I whispered, the word tasting like ash in my mouth.
I looked at Daniel. The man I had shared a bed with for three years. The man who had complained about the cost of my generic asthma inhalers.
“You told her I was dying?” I choked out, tears blurring my vision. “While I was scrubbing floors here to pay the rent you supposedly couldn't afford?”
Daniel’s eyes darted toward the exit.
He was calculating his odds. He was a cornered animal, and cornered animals always bite the weakest target.
He suddenly straightened his suit jacket, his jaw hardening.
“Fine,” Daniel said, his voice turning cold. “Since we’re airing dirty laundry in front of Chicago’s finest, let’s tell the whole truth, Claire.”
He reached into his breast pocket.
Rebecca, his new fiancée, grabbed his arm. “Daniel, stop. What are you doing? Tell me this isn't true.”
“Shut up, Becca,” he snapped, shaking her off with a violence that made her gasp.
Daniel pulled out a small, crumpled piece of yellow paper and threw it onto the pristine white tablecloth.
“I needed the money because of her,” Daniel sneered, pointing a shaking finger at me. “Claire has a gambling addiction. She owed dangerous people. I lied to my mother to protect Claire’s reputation, so Evelyn wouldn't know her daughter-in-law was a degenerate.”
The guests murmured, exchanging uncertain glances.
Daniel was good at this. He always mixed a drop of poison into a glass of water until you couldn't tell what you were drinking.
“I don't even know how to play poker,” I said, my voice trembling.
“Oh really?” Daniel countered smoothly, his confidence returning. “Then explain why I found this in your purse the day before you left me.”
Luca reached out and picked up the yellow slip.
“Read it, Mr. Moretti,” Daniel urged, a smug smile creeping back onto his face. “It’s a pawn ticket. She fenced her own mother’s jewelry to pay off a bookie in the South Side.”
My breath caught in my throat.
My mother’s silver and sapphire bracelet.
It was the only thing I had left of her after she passed away in a car accident when I was twelve. I had searched our apartment for weeks looking for it. Daniel had helped me look, holding me while I cried, telling me I must have left it at a laundromat.
“You stole it,” I whispered, the betrayal hitting me so hard my chest physically ached. “You stole my mother’s bracelet and pawned it.”
“I found the ticket in your bag, Claire!” Daniel shouted, playing to the crowd. “I’ve been paying off your debts for years!”
I looked at Luca, terrified that the seed of doubt had been planted. I was just a maid. Daniel was a polished businessman. Who would they believe?
But Luca wasn’t looking at me.
He was staring at the yellow pawn ticket.
The muscles in Luca’s neck tightened, his tattoos shifting as his jaw clenched. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
“You pawned this to a man named Carlo Vane,” Luca said softly.
Daniel blinked, caught off guard by the specific name. “I… I don't know the broker's name. Claire did it.”
Luca slowly lifted his dark eyes from the ticket to Daniel’s face.
“Carlo Vane doesn't run a standard pawn shop,” Luca said, his voice vibrating with a lethal calmness. “Carlo Vane runs a predatory lending ring for the Rossi family.”
Rebecca gasped, stepping entirely away from Daniel.
Everyone in Chicago knew the Rossi family. They were the Morettis' oldest, bloodiest rivals.
“And Carlo Vane,” Luca continued, taking a slow, predatory step toward my ex-husband, “does not accept jewelry from weeping women in maid’s uniforms. He only accepts collateral from men who owe him blood money.”
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Luca held the ticket up, turning it over so everyone could see the back.
“Which is why,” Luca said, his eyes burning into Daniel’s, “your signature is on the back of this ticket, Daniel. Not hers.”
