Chapter 4 - THE RED CIRCLE AROUND MY FATHER
The silver watch slipped from my shaking hands, clattering dully against the thick Persian rug.
I stared at the torn photograph.
My parents. Standing in front of our modest home in the suburbs. The home we were currently about to lose.
Why was there a red circle around my father’s face? And why was it hidden in Sophie Moretti’s bedroom?
Check the bottom drawer.
Whoever sent that text knew the layout of this house. They knew where the watch was hidden. And they knew who I was.
I scrambled to pick up the watch and the photograph, shoving them deep into my apron pocket just as heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Three sharp knocks on the door.
"Emma. It's Luca."
I rushed over and unlocked the deadbolt.
Luca stepped into the room. He had discarded his suit jacket. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and the holster strapped across his chest was fully visible. He looked exhausted, yet terrifyingly alert.
"Is she asleep?" he asked quietly, glancing toward the bed.
"Yes, sir."
He rubbed a hand over his face. "Vanessa is locked in the basement suite. She finally told me who poisoned Caroline."
My stomach tightened. "Who was it?"
Luca looked directly at me. His dark eyes were filled with a profound, agonizing sorrow.
"It was my uncle. Victor Moretti."
I stopped breathing. Victor Moretti was the legitimate face of the family. He ran the banks, the charities, the real estate. He was supposed to be the clean one.
"Victor wanted control of the offshore accounts my father left strictly to Caroline and Sophie," Luca explained, his voice low and bitter. "Caroline found out. Victor poisoned her, making it look like a heart defect."
"And Vanessa knew?"
"Vanessa was Caroline’s friend," Luca nodded. "Caroline entrusted her with the secret. Vanessa spent two years getting close to me, planning to take Sophie to safety in Zurich before Victor realized the little girl was the sole heir."
Vanessa wasn't a cruel, gold-digging fiancée. She was a terrified woman playing a dangerous, impossible role to save her best friend’s child.
She had tried to fire me to get me out of the crossfire.
"Mr. Moretti," I whispered, pulling the torn photograph and the silver watch from my apron. "Someone just texted me. They told me to look in Sophie's dresser."
Luca frowned, taking the items from my hand.
When he saw the photograph, he went perfectly still.
"Is this your father?" Luca asked.
"Yes," I breathed. "He lost his job at the shipping company three months ago. We’re losing our house."
Luca flipped the silver watch over. He examined the intricate engraving on the back.
His face drained of color.
"This is Victor's watch," Luca said. "I gave it to him for his fiftieth birthday."
"Why is it in Sophie's room?"
"Because Victor has been in this room," Luca realized, pure terror creeping into his voice. "He’s been inside the house. He knows Vanessa failed to get Sophie out tonight."
He looked at the red circle around my father’s face.
"Your father worked at the shipping company," Luca deduced rapidly. "Victor controls those ports. If your father saw something he wasn't supposed to see..."
The reality hit me like a physical blow.
My father hadn't just been laid off. He had been targeted.
My phone buzzed again.
I looked at the screen. It was my mother.
I answered it with trembling hands and put it on speaker.
"Mom?"
"Emma," my mother sobbed through the phone. "Emma, please help us."
"What's wrong? Where’s Dad?"
A smooth, cultured voice replaced my mother’s weeping.
"Your father is right here, Emma."
Luca’s jaw clenched. "Victor."
"Ah, Luca," Victor Moretti chuckled through the speaker. "I see the little maid put you on speakerphone. How efficient."
"Let them go, Victor," Luca ordered. His tone was lethal zero. "This is between you and me."
"It was," Victor agreed. "Until Caroline decided to be clever and hide the account routing numbers. I need those numbers, Luca. And I know Vanessa gave them to you tonight."
Luca looked at his jacket pocket, where he had placed the parchment from the cardigan.
"Bring me the routing numbers, and the girl's parents live," Victor offered pleasantly. "You have one hour. Meet me at the old shipping yard on the south side. Come alone. Or William and Mary burn in their house."
The line went dead.
I collapsed onto the edge of Sophie's bed, burying my face in my hands. My parents. They were going to die because of me.
"We're going to get them back," Luca said firmly.
He didn't hesitate. He pulled his phone out and dialed Daniel.
"Gather the men. We're hitting the south port."
"Luca, wait," I pleaded, standing up. "He said come alone. If he sees your men, he'll kill my parents."
"If I go alone, he kills us all anyway," Luca said softly. "Victor leaves no witnesses."
"Then I'm coming with you."
Luca stopped. He looked down at me. "Emma, no. It's a war zone."
"They are my parents," I said fiercely, wiping the tears from my face. "I'm not hiding in a bedroom while they die. Take me with you."
Luca stared at me. He saw the absolute, unbreakable resolve in my eyes. The same stubbornness that made me refuse to put Sophie's chair away.
"Okay," Luca whispered. "Stay right behind me."
We left Sophie under the heavy guard of Daniel's most trusted men.
We drove through the rainy Chicago streets in a heavily armored SUV. The drive was silent, suffocating.
We pulled into the abandoned shipping yard. The rain pounded against the windshield.
"Stay close," Luca commanded, stepping out of the vehicle, his weapon drawn.
I followed him into the dark, rusted warehouse.
In the center of the room, illuminated by a single, harsh floodlight, sat my parents. They were tied to two wooden chairs.
Victor stood behind them, holding a suppressed pistol. He was flanked by six heavily armed mercenaries.
"Right on time, nephew," Victor smiled. "Do you have the numbers?"
"I have them," Luca said, stepping into the light.
"Hand them to the girl," Victor ordered. "Let her bring them to me."
Luca hesitated, but he pulled the parchment from his pocket and handed it to me.
I walked slowly across the damp concrete, the paper trembling in my hand.
I reached Victor. I held out the parchment.
Victor snatched it, a greedy smile spreading across his face. He looked at the paper.
Then, his smile vanished.
He looked up at Luca in pure, unadulterated fury.
"What is this?" Victor snarled.
Because it wasn't the routing numbers.
It was a faded, handwritten letter.
"Read it, Victor," Luca challenged loudly. "Read what my father wrote before he died."
Victor looked down at the paper. His hands began to shake.
May you like
And as he read the words, I saw the most powerful man in Chicago realize he had walked into a trap he could never escape.
TITLE: The Confession In The Dead Man's Hand
