Chapter 6 - THE ENEMY WITHIN
The name Falcone dropped into the dining room like a live grenade.
The fifty guests—many of them loyal associates and capos of the Moretti organization—erupted into chaos. Chairs were shoved backward. Men stood up, reaching instinctively inside their suit jackets. The Falcone family was the Morettis' oldest, bloodiest rival. A war between them ten years ago had nearly burned Chicago to the ground.
And the enemy had been sleeping in the boss’s bed.
“Quiet!” Luca roared.
The sheer force of his voice silenced the room instantly. The men froze, their hands hovering over their concealed weapons.
Vanessa was pressed entirely against the heavy oak doors, her body trembling violently. The two bodyguards flanking her had drawn their weapons, pointing them directly at the floor, waiting for Luca’s command.
“It’s a forgery,” Vanessa whispered, her voice cracking. But she didn't sound arrogant anymore. She sounded like a woman begging for her life. “Luca, please. Catherine planted that to frame me. I’m a Bellini!”
Luca stared at the small, tightly rolled document in his hand. It was a baptismal certificate.
“Vanessa Falcone,” Luca read aloud, his tone as sharp as shattered glass. “Born to Vincenzo and Maria Falcone. Hidden under your mother’s maiden name to protect you from the wars.”
He slowly walked toward her, the paper crushed in his fist.
“Your brother Leo sent you here,” Luca realized, the puzzle pieces slamming together with sickening clarity. “He couldn't beat me in the streets, so he sent you to infiltrate my home. You were supposed to poison Catherine, marry me, and then quietly slip arsenic into my wine so Leo could take the city.”
Vanessa shook her head frantically, tears streaming down her flawless makeup. “No! No, Luca, I fell in love with you! I couldn't do it! I swear to God, I couldn't kill you!”
“But you could kill my wife,” Luca said softly.
“She was in the way!” Vanessa screamed, finally breaking. The confession tore out of her, raw and ugly. “Leo was going to kill me if I didn't finish the job! Catherine found out who I was! I had to silence her!”
The truth hung in the air, heavy and toxic.
I pulled Mia closer to me, covering the little girl’s ears, but she stubbornly pulled my hands away. She wanted to hear the woman who had terrorized her finally confess.
“And Emily’s mother?” Luca asked, his voice dead.
“She was going to ruin everything!” Vanessa sobbed, sliding down the oak doors until she was sitting on the marble floor, a ruined mess of red silk. “She threatened to expose me! I just went to her house to scare her! I only pushed her because she grabbed my rosary!”
I felt a surge of white-hot anger replace the fear in my chest.
I let go of Mia’s hand, stepped past Alessandro and Michael, and walked directly up to Vanessa.
The two bodyguards didn't stop me.
I looked down at the woman who had humiliated me for eleven months, the woman who had nearly killed my mother and stolen her voice.
“You didn't just push her,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “You left her there to bleed to death on the floor. If Michael hadn't found her ten minutes later, she would have died.”
Vanessa glared up at me, her tear-stained face twisting with sudden, venomous spite.
“I should have finished the job,” Vanessa hissed. “And I should have sent you to Rome in a body bag.”
Before anyone could react, Vanessa lunged forward.
She didn't grab for me. She reached under the hem of her ruined red gown and pulled out a small, silver derringer pistol strapped to her ankle.
Screams erupted from the guests.
Vanessa leveled the tiny gun directly at my chest.
“If I’m going down,” Vanessa screamed, her finger tightening on the trigger, “I’m taking the little maid with me!”
Time seemed to freeze. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move.
But Luca Moretti didn't hesitate.
He threw his massive body across the space between us, shielding me completely just as the gunshot cracked through the dining room.
The sound was deafening.
The crystal on the table shattered.
Luca let out a sharp grunt, his heavy frame colliding with mine, driving us both to the marble floor to protect me.
Instantly, the two bodyguards tackled Vanessa, pinning her violently to the ground and kicking the tiny silver pistol across the room. She shrieked like a wild animal as they wrenched her arms behind her back.
“Luca!” Michael screamed, running toward us.
I pushed myself up onto my elbows, my heart hammering against my ribs. I was covered in shattered glass, but I didn't feel any pain.
I looked down at Luca. He was lying half on top of me, his eyes squeezed shut.
“Luca!” I cried, grabbing his shoulders. “Luca, are you shot? Where are you hit?”
Luca slowly opened his dark eyes. He looked at me, his gaze entirely focused on my face, checking for injuries.
“I’m fine,” Luca grunted, slowly pushing himself up.
He reached into the breast pocket of his tailored suit jacket.
And pulled out the thick, solid gold watch Alessandro had handed him three minutes earlier.
The gold casing was heavily dented, a small lead bullet lodged perfectly in the center of the metal. The heirloom watch had stopped the bullet from piercing his heart.
Catherine’s watch had just saved her husband’s life.
The reversal was staggering. Even from exile, Catherine was protecting her family.
Luca stared at the ruined gold watch for a long moment. Then, he stood up and pulled me to my feet. He kept one arm wrapped tightly around my waist, refusing to let me go.
He looked down at Vanessa, who was pinned to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Call the police,” Luca told Michael, his voice terrifyingly calm. “Tell the Chief of Police I have a confessed attempted murderer waiting for him. And tell him if she accidentally makes bail, the Moretti family will personally declare war on the Falcones by dawn.”
“Yes, brother,” Michael said, immediately pulling out his phone.
But Alessandro Romano suddenly stepped forward. The Italian businessman looked at his watch, a faint smile playing on his lips.
“There is no need to wait for the police, Mr. Moretti,” Alessandro said smoothly.
Luca frowned. “Why not?”
Alessandro looked toward the grand entryway of the mansion.
“Because tomorrow is Friday,” Alessandro said.
Before anyone could ask what he meant, the grandfather clock in the hallway began to chime.
Twelve deep, resonant tolls echoed through the silent house.
Midnight.
May you like
It was officially Friday.
And exactly as the final chime faded, the massive front doors of the Moretti mansion swung open.
