Chapter 2 - WHAT DADDY PROMISED THE LADY IN RED
“Uncle Luca? Daddy told me what she made him promise.”
The massive dining room suddenly felt as small and suffocating as a closet.
Vanessa’s face went completely white. The diamonds on her wrist trembled as she took another step backward, hitting the edge of the mahogany table.
Luca didn’t look at her. He kept his eyes locked on my five-year-old son.
“What promise, buddy?” Luca asked. His voice was incredibly soft, yet it carried a weight that made the hair on my arms stand up.
Oliver clutched his silver watch tightly. He looked up at me, his wide eyes seeking permission.
I squeezed his shoulder, my own heart hammering in my throat. “You can tell him, sweetie. It’s okay.”
Oliver turned back to the terrifying, tattooed mafia boss who was kneeling on the imported rug.
“Daddy promised to go away forever,” Oliver whispered, his childish voice echoing in the dead silence. “He said the angry lady in the red dress told him if he didn’t disappear, she would send the bad men to hurt Mommy. And me.”
A collective gasp rippled through the twenty-four dinner guests.
Vanessa’s mouth opened and closed. “He’s lying!” she shrieked, her composed, elegant mask completely shattering. “Luca, he’s a child! He has an overactive imagination. I’ve never seen this boy before in my life!”
Luca slowly stood up. He didn’t yell. He didn’t raise his hands.
He simply turned his head and looked at Vanessa.
“You’ve never seen him before,” Luca repeated, his voice devoid of all emotion.
“Never!” she cried, reaching out to touch his arm.
Luca sidestepped her hand as if she were made of poison.
“Then how,” Luca asked quietly, “did he know you came to his house three years ago? A house that no one in this family supposedly knew existed?”
Vanessa froze. The trap had closed.
“I… I must have been mistaken for someone else,” she stammered.
“Get out,” Luca said.
“Darling, please—”
“Get out of my house!” Luca’s voice suddenly boomed like thunder, rattling the crystal glasses on the table.
Two of Luca’s men, wearing dark suits, instantly materialized from the hallway. They grabbed Vanessa by her arms. She kicked and screamed, her red silk gown twisting as they dragged her out of the room.
Luca turned to the stunned dinner guests.
“Dinner is over. Leave.”
Within sixty seconds, the room was empty. It was just me, my son, and the most dangerous man in Chicago.
Luca dragged a hand down his face, looking suddenly ten years older. He turned to me.
“Claire. You said Matteo left three years ago.”
“He did,” I choked out, tears finally spilling over. “He went to work one night and never came back. I thought… I thought he just couldn’t handle the pressure of being a father anymore. I never knew Vanessa visited him.”
Luca looked at the silver watch in Oliver’s hand. “My brother loved you. He loved this boy. Matteo wouldn’t have run away because he was a coward. If he ran, he did it to save your lives.”
He stepped closer, his dark eyes searching mine. “Did he leave anything behind? Anything at all?”
I wiped my face. “Only a locked metal box. I never had the key, and I couldn't bring myself to break it open.”
Luca’s jaw clenched. “I have his spare keys. Take me to your apartment. Now.”
Twenty minutes later, we were standing in my tiny, cramped living room. It was a stark contrast to the Moretti mansion, but Luca didn't even blink at the peeling wallpaper.
I pulled the heavy metal box from beneath my bed and set it on the kitchen table.
Luca produced a ring of old, brass keys from his coat pocket. His hands actually shook as he slid the smallest key into the lock.
It clicked.
He opened the lid.
Inside, there was no money. No weapons. Just a stack of Oliver’s old child’s drawings from preschool.
Luca looked devastated. “Just drawings?”
But Oliver climbed onto the chair and reached into the box. “Daddy loved my drawings. He said he put his special secrets behind my monsters.”
Oliver pulled out a drawing of a green dinosaur. He flipped it over.
Taped to the back of the thick construction paper was a faded, folded photograph.
Luca peeled it off carefully. He unfolded it, and I saw the blood drain from his face.
I leaned in to look.
It was a picture of Vanessa, sitting in a dark restaurant booth. But she wasn't alone. She was passionately kissing another man. And the man’s hand, resting on her cheek, bore a heavy gold ring—Matteo’s missing wedding band.
Luca’s breath hitched.
Because the man kissing his fiancée wasn't a stranger.
May you like
“Marco,” Luca whispered. His own right-hand man.
But before Luca could even process the betrayal, my front door was suddenly kicked open, splintering the wood into pieces.
