Chapter 10 - SINS OF THE BROTHER
The golden morning light pouring into the foyer suddenly felt cold and thin.
Luca stared at the photograph of his brother, his thumb tracing the handwriting on the back. Just married, big brother. See you soon.
“Michael married Lorenzo’s daughter?” Daniel asked, stepping closer to look at the photo. “Luca, Michael doesn't even know Lorenzo. He’s been in Rome studying architecture.”
“He knows her,” Luca said, his voice tight. “Her name is Isabella. Lorenzo introduced them at a charity gala in Milan last year.”
Answer One. Lorenzo hadn't just attacked Luca’s security and finances. He had infiltrated his family through Michael.
Open Two. But did Michael know who Isabella really was? Was he a pawn, or a willing participant?
“Luca,” I said softly, placing my hand on his arm. “Lorenzo just lost everything. The FBI raided his estate. He’s going to prison. If he set this marriage up to get leverage…”
“He doesn't have leverage,” Luca interrupted, his jaw set in a hard line. “He has a hostage.”
Reversal.
Lorenzo wasn't trying to build an alliance. He was holding Michael hostage by binding him legally to a woman whose father was now a fugitive.
Luca’s phone buzzed in his pocket.
He pulled it out. The caller ID was restricted, but we all knew who it was.
Luca answered it, putting it on speaker.
“Good morning, brother-in-law,” Lorenzo’s voice purred through the speaker. He didn't sound panicked anymore. He sounded triumphant.
“Where is Michael?” Luca demanded.
“Enjoying his honeymoon on my private yacht in the Mediterranean,” Lorenzo replied smoothly. “He’s quite smitten with Isabella. She’s a wonderful girl. Very loyal to her father.”
“If you hurt him, Lorenzo—”
“I’m not going to hurt him, Luca! They’re in love,” Lorenzo chuckled. “But Isabella is terribly distraught. She just heard the news about my unfortunate legal troubles in Chicago. She’s begging Michael to help her poor father escape the country.”
Luca’s grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned white.
“What do you want?” Luca growled.
“I want the original ledger, Luca. The physical book,” Lorenzo demanded. “I know you sent digital copies to the FBI, but without the physical book, my lawyers can claim the files were forged. Bring the ledger to the private airfield in Gary, Indiana, in two hours. I have a jet waiting. You give me the book, I fly away, and I tell Isabella to let Michael go.”
“And if I don't?”
“Then Isabella will convince your sweet, naive brother that you framed me,” Lorenzo said coldly. “She’ll turn him against you. And if he tries to leave… well, accidents happen at sea.”
The line went dead.
Luca stood perfectly still, his chest heaving with suppressed rage. He had just won the war, only to realize the final battle had already moved to another continent.
“He’s going to kill Michael,” Daniel said grimly. “Once he gets that ledger and clears international airspace, Michael is a loose end.”
“I’m not giving him the ledger,” Luca said, his eyes burning with absolute resolve.
“Then how do we save your brother?” I asked, terror gripping my heart.
Luca turned to Leo.
“Marcus… Leo,” Luca corrected himself. “When Carlo sent you to the Swiss bank, how did you get past Lorenzo’s security checks at the airport?”
Leo blinked, caught off guard. “Carlo got me a diplomatic passport. I still have it in my jacket.”
“Good,” Luca nodded. “Daniel, take Leo. I want you both on my private jet in twenty minutes. Fly to Rome. Track Lorenzo’s yacht. Use every contact my father left you. Find Michael before Isabella realizes her father’s plan has failed.”
“What are you going to do?” Daniel asked.
Luca turned his gaze toward the heavy front doors.
“I’m going to Gary, Indiana,” Luca said softly. “I’m going to give Lorenzo exactly what he asked for.”
“No!” I grabbed his arm. “Luca, it’s a trap. If you go alone, Lorenzo’s men will kill you!”
Luca looked down at me, his eyes softening as he cupped my cheek.
“I won't be alone,” Luca whispered. “Because I’m bringing something Lorenzo didn't account for.”
“What?” I asked.
Luca reached into his pocket and pulled out the old, rusted master keys to the basement archives that Vanessa had given to Carlo’s men hours ago.
“Lorenzo thinks the ledger is his biggest threat,” Luca smiled dangerously. “But he forgot what my father kept in the archives.”
Ten minutes later, I stood beside Luca in the damp, freezing basement of the Moretti mansion.
Luca unlocked a heavy iron door that hadn't been opened in over a decade.
He flipped a switch, and bare bulbs flickered to life.
It wasn't a wine cellar. It wasn't a vault of money.
It was a wall of meticulously organized file boxes, stretching from floor to ceiling.
“My father didn't just keep ledgers on his enemies,” Luca explained, walking down the aisle. “He kept leverage on the men who protected his enemies.”
Luca stopped in front of a box labeled 1999 - Federal.
He pulled out a thick yellow envelope and handed it to me.
“Open it,” he said.
I tore open the flap and pulled out a stack of glossy photographs and bank statements.
I gasped.
They were pictures of Lorenzo Ferraro. But he wasn't meeting with mafia bosses. He was meeting with the very FBI director who was currently leading the raid on his estate.
“Lorenzo isn't running from the FBI,” Luca said, his voice echoing in the cold room. “He’s running to them. He wants the physical ledger so he can trade it to the feds for immunity, proving Carlo Bellini was the sole mastermind.”
Reversal. Lorenzo wasn't a victim of the raid; he had orchestrated his own downfall to wipe the slate clean and walk away untouchable.
And if Luca handed him the ledger, Lorenzo would win everything.
“We have to stop him at the airfield,” I said, my heart pounding.
“We are,” Luca said, taking my hand.
We turned to leave the basement, but as we reached the iron door, a shadow blocked the stairwell.
A figure stepped down into the dim light, holding a silenced pistol aimed directly at Luca’s chest.
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It was one of Luca’s most trusted guards. The man who had been standing at the front door all night.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Moretti,” the guard said, his voice shaking. “But Lorenzo pays much better than you do.”
