Chapter 7 - THE INVITATION TO THE ENEMY
The silence in my small servant’s bedroom was deafening.
Luca stared at me as if I had spoken in a foreign language.
“Invite him to the wedding?” Luca repeated, his dark eyes wide with disbelief. “Emma, Victor just ambushed a federal transport. He is a fugitive hunting for your blood. You want to send him an invitation?”
“He wants leverage,” I explained, my voice remarkably steady despite the adrenaline surging through my veins. “He took the adoption file because he thinks my existence is a secret he can use to destroy the Moretti legacy. If we make my existence public, the file is worthless.”
Daniel leaned against the doorframe, crossing his massive arms. “She’s got a point, Boss. Blackmail only works if the secret is kept in the dark.”
Luca ran a hand through his dark hair, pacing the narrow space.
“It’s a massive risk,” Luca muttered. “If we announce who you are, the entire Chicago underworld will know Caroline had a daughter. You’ll be a target for every ambitious captain looking to make a name for himself.”
“I’m already a target, Luca,” I reminded him gently, stepping into his path and placing a hand on his chest. “But if I stand beside you in the light, as your family, they will have to go through the Don of Chicago to get to me.”
Luca stopped pacing. He looked down at me, his eyes searching my face. He saw the fire there—the same fire he had recognized from Caroline.
A slow, profoundly respectful smile touched the corners of his mouth.
“You really are her daughter,” Luca whispered.
He turned to his head of security.
“Daniel,” Luca commanded, the lethal authority returning instantly. “Call Vanessa. Tell her the wedding is back on. Next Saturday. We are hosting the largest, most public gala this city has ever seen.”
Daniel grinned a savage, predatory smile. “Yes, boss. And Victor?”
“Make sure the invitation is delivered to his last known safe house,” Luca ordered. “He won’t be able to resist crashing the party to publicly ruin us.”
The next week was a blur of frantic, highly orchestrated chaos.
The fake engagement between Luca and Vanessa, originally designed to protect Sophie, was now repurposed into the ultimate trap. The mansion was transformed into a fortress disguised as a wedding venue.
I didn’t clean floors. I didn’t polish silver.
I spent the week in the secure wing of the estate, working with Marissa—my adoptive mother—and Vanessa to plan the event. The three of us, bonded by the shared trauma of protecting the family, formed an unbreakable alliance.
On the night of the wedding, the mansion was breathtaking. Thousands of white roses lined the grand staircase. The ballroom glittered with crystal and gold.
Over three hundred guests arrived—politicians, business moguls, and the quiet, dangerous men who ran the city’s shadows.
I stood in front of the full-length mirror in the master suite, staring at my reflection.
I wore a stunning, emerald green evening gown. The diamond bracelet Caroline had left for me sparkled on my wrist. I didn’t look like a maid. I looked like a Moretti.
“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” my mother, Mary, whispered, wiping a tear from her eye as she adjusted my hair.
“Thank you, Mom,” I smiled, squeezing her hand.
A knock on the door interrupted us.
Luca stepped into the room. He wore a flawless, custom black tuxedo. He looked powerful, untouchable, and devastatingly handsome.
He stopped when he saw me, his breath visibly catching in his throat.
“You look perfect,” Luca murmured, walking over and offering me his arm.
“Are we ready?” I asked, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
“Daniel’s men are positioned at every exit,” Luca assured me. “Victor is here. Facial recognition caught him slipping through the service entrance ten minutes ago.”
He was in the house.
I took a deep breath, slipping my hand through Luca’s arm. “Let’s go.”
We walked down the grand staircase together. The ballroom fell silent as the guests turned to watch the Don of Chicago descend with a woman who wasn't his fiancé.
Whispers erupted through the crowd like wildfire.
We reached the center of the ballroom. Vanessa stood waiting near the orchestra, looking radiant in a silver gown. She gave me a small, encouraging nod.
Luca took a microphone from the bandleader.
The room hushed completely.
“Welcome, friends and associates,” Luca’s voice boomed through the speakers, calm and commanding. “You were invited tonight to celebrate a wedding. But plans change.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
“Tonight is not a wedding,” Luca announced, turning to look at me. “Tonight is a homecoming. For years, this family has kept a secret to protect an innocent life. But the shadows have become too dangerous.”
He raised his free hand, gesturing toward me.
“I introduce to you Emma Sullivan. The biological daughter of my late wife, Caroline Moretti, and the rightful, recognized heir to the Moretti legacy.”
The ballroom erupted. Gasps, whispers, and shocked exclamations filled the air.
From the back of the room, near the heavy velvet curtains, a sharp, bitter laugh cut through the noise.
The crowd parted nervously.
Victor Moretti stepped into the light. He looked haggard, desperate, and entirely lethal. He held a silver pistol, aimed directly at the ceiling.
“A beautiful speech, Luca,” Victor sneered, stepping forward as his hidden mercenaries drew weapons, holding the crowd hostage. “But a bastard maid doesn’t inherit an empire. I do.”
Victor reached into his jacket and pulled out the thick, original adoption file.
“I have the proof of your wife’s indiscretions right here!” Victor shouted, holding the file up like a trophy. “This girl is a stain on the family name! I am taking control of the syndicate tonight, or everyone in this room dies.”
Luca didn’t flinch. He didn’t reach for his gun. He just smiled—a cold, terrifying, predatory smile.
“You didn’t read the file very carefully, did you, Victor?” Luca asked softly.
Victor frowned, his confidence wavering. “What are you talking about?”
“The adoption file doesn’t just contain Emma’s birth certificate,” Luca explained, his voice echoing through the silent ballroom. “It contains the genetic testing Caroline ordered ten years ago. The test that proves who Emma’s biological father really was.”
Victor’s face drained of color.
“Open the file, Victor,” I commanded, my voice ringing clear and strong.
With a shaking hand, Victor opened the manila folder. He flipped to the back page. He read the genetic report.
The gun slipped from his hand, clattering loudly against the marble floor.
“No,” Victor whispered in absolute, soul-crushing horror.
Because the man listed as my biological father wasn’t some random teenager from Caroline’s past.
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It was Victor Moretti.
TITLE: The Monster In The Mirror
