Chapter 2 - The Woman in the Wreckage
The silence in the dining room was absolute, heavy enough to crush the breath from my lungs.
Forty of Chicago’s wealthiest elites sat frozen in their high-backed mahogany chairs. The spilled red wine dripped slowly from the edge of the table, hitting the marble floor with a quiet, rhythmic tap... tap... tap.
Luca Moretti didn't break eye contact with his fiancée.
His phone remained clutched in his large, tattooed hand. The blue light from the screen cast a harsh, unforgiving glow across his sharp features.
“What did you just say?” Vanessa whispered, her voice trembling.
The arrogant, cruel woman who had commanded me to my knees just moments ago had entirely vanished. In her place stood a terrified girl in a red silk dress, her face drained of all color.
“The police recovered the burnt chassis of Michael’s car this morning,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, lethal calm. “They found the VIN number. And they found a piece of melted jewelry fused to the passenger seat.”
Vanessa swallowed hard, instinctively reaching for her own throat.
“A custom-made diamond clasp,” Luca continued, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her. “The exact clasp I bought for you in Milan two weeks before my brother died.”
The guests began to murmur. A few of the men in expensive suits slowly stood up, recognizing the shift in the room from a social gathering to a mafia interrogation.
“Luca, that’s insane,” Vanessa stammered, backing away until her hips hit the edge of the dining table. “I lost that necklace at a gala! You know that! Someone must have stolen it and... and they were in the car with Michael!”
I stood paralyzed, my hand still resting protectively over my swollen belly.
Michael had told me he was going to meet someone dangerous that night. He had kissed my forehead, pressed his plain gold wedding band into my palm because it was too large for his finger after losing weight, and told me to keep it safe.
“If my brother knew who she really was, there wouldn't be a wedding.”
“She’s lying,” I whispered.
The words slipped out before I could stop them, but in the dead-silent room, they echoed like a gunshot.
Vanessa whipped her head toward me, her eyes burning with pure venom.
“Shut your mouth, you pathetic little maid!” she shrieked, her composure shattering. “You’re a gold-digger who got knocked up by a dead man! You don’t know anything!”
Luca didn't look at me. He kept his dark, predatory gaze fixed entirely on Vanessa.
“Anna knows exactly what time my brother left her,” Luca stated softly. “He left her apartment at eight-thirty. The crash happened at nine-fifteen on the coastal highway.”
He took another step, closing the distance between them.
“You told me you were at your sister’s house that entire night,” Luca said. “But my security team just pulled your phone records, Vanessa. Your phone pinged a cell tower on the coastal highway at nine-ten.”
Vanessa’s breath hitched. She looked around the room frantically, searching for an ally, but the guests were backing away, creating a wide, empty circle around her.
“He kidnapped me!” Vanessa suddenly cried, tears spilling over her mascara. “Luca, you have to believe me! Michael found out about our engagement, and he was furious! He forced me into his car! He was driving like a maniac, saying he was going to ruin my life!”
I felt a sickening twist in my stomach.
“Michael would never do that,” I said, my voice shaking but fierce. “He was the kindest man I’ve ever met. He bought baby clothes that afternoon. He was planning our future.”
“He was a lunatic!” Vanessa screamed, pointing a manicured finger at me. “He drove us off the road! The car caught fire! I barely managed to crawl out of the passenger side before it exploded!”
Luca went perfectly still.
The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
“You crawled out,” Luca repeated, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.
Vanessa nodded frantically, sobbing into her hands. “I was terrified, Luca! I was in shock! I didn't know what to do, so I ran! I walked for miles until I found a payphone. I was too scared to tell you the truth because I thought you’d blame me for his death!”
She reached out, trying to grab the lapels of his black suit jacket.
“Please, darling,” she wept. “I only lied because I loved you. I was trying to protect our wedding.”
Luca didn't flinch. He didn't pull away. He just stared at the woman he had planned to marry, dissecting her tears with cold, brutal precision.
“If you crawled out of the wreckage,” Luca asked quietly, “why didn't you pull my brother out with you?”
Vanessa froze. Her hands dropped from his jacket.
“The fire was too hot,” she stammered. “He was trapped behind the steering wheel. I couldn't reach him.”
Luca slowly reached into his pocket.
He didn't pull out a gun. He pulled out a small, charred object sealed inside a clear plastic evidence bag.
He held it up to the crystal chandeliers.
It was a heavy, scorched silver money clip. Michael’s money clip.
“My brother kept this clipped to his sun visor,” Luca explained, his voice devoid of any human emotion. “The police found it in the grass, thirty feet away from the burning car. But it didn't fly out during the crash, Vanessa.”
He turned the bag around so she could see the back of the clip.
“There is no smoke damage on the back,” Luca said softly. “Which means someone took it out of the car before the fire fully engulfed the cabin. Someone who had enough time to rob my brother while he bled to death, before they dropped it while running away.”
Vanessa’s face turned the color of chalk.
“You watched him die,” Luca whispered, the agonizing grief finally breaking through his stoic mask. “You watched my little brother burn, and you stole his cash so you could pay for a taxi home.”
“No!” Vanessa shrieked, backing away until she hit the wall.
Her expensive designer clutch slipped from her trembling hands. It hit the marble floor, spilling its contents across the tiles. Lipstick, a compact mirror, and a small, heavy silver object clattered against the stone.
I looked down.
Resting in the puddle of spilled red wine was a charred, silver Zippo lighter.
Luca saw it.
He slowly looked from the lighter to his fiancée’s terrified face.
“The car didn't catch fire on its own, did it, Vanessa?” Luca asked, his voice shaking with a murderous rage.
Vanessa scrambled backward, her eyes wild with panic. She realized her web of lies had completely unraveled, leaving her exposed to the most dangerous man in Chicago.
She looked at Luca, then at the heavily armed guards standing by the dining room doors.
A manic, desperate laugh suddenly bubbled up from her throat.
“I didn't crash the car, Luca,” Vanessa sneered, her tear-stained face twisting into a mask of pure malice. “And I didn't set the fire.”
Luca drew his weapon, leveling the heavy black pistol directly at her chest.
“Who did?” he demanded.
May you like
Vanessa smiled, a cold, terrifying curve of her lips.
“Ask your security chief,” she whispered. “Ask Victor.”
