Chapter 4 - THE FORGED SIGNATURE
The bedroom was suffocatingly silent.
I stared at the thick legal document in Vanessa’s manicured hand, my mind struggling to process the sheer audacity of her claim. She was standing in the middle of a mafia boss’s mansion, holding a piece of paper she believed made her invincible.
"He didn't sign that," I said, my voice steady despite the trembling in my knees. "Luca would never sign away his sister. You forged it."
Vanessa’s smile widened into something genuinely ugly.
"Of course I forged it, you idiot," she whispered, stepping closer to the bed. "But the notary stamp is real. The judge’s seal is real. And in the eyes of the State of Illinois, I am the sole legal guardian of Isabella Moretti and her bastard child."
Matteo whined softly against my shoulder, his small fingers digging into my shirt. I shifted my weight, putting the narrow twin bed between Vanessa and me.
"You're out of your mind," I told her. "Do you honestly think Luca cares about a piece of paper? He is a Moretti. He will kill you for what you've done to his family."
"Luca is a businessman," Vanessa countered, entirely unbothered by the threat. She pointed down at the pearl necklace resting on the cheap quilt of my bed. "He is attempting to legitimize his empire. He is running for the board of the city's largest development firm. If I go to the police and tell them he kept his mentally ill sister locked in a room and tried to steal her child, his legitimate world burns down. He won't touch me. He can't."
Answer one: Vanessa’s endgame wasn't just to hide Isabella; it was a calculated extortion plot, using the law to checkmate a man who operated outside of it.
"Now," Vanessa snapped, the veneer of patience entirely gone. "Pick up the pearls. Hand me the boy. And walk out the back door."
"No."
The word hung in the air.
Vanessa’s eyes narrowed into terrifying slits. "Excuse me?"
"I said no." I took another step back toward the small window of my room. "I'm not giving him to you. And I'm not taking your blood money."
"You insignificant little maid," Vanessa hissed, dropping the legal document onto the bed and lunging across the mattress toward me.
She grabbed my forearm, her sharp acrylic nails digging viciously into my skin. She reached for Matteo’s pajamas with her other hand.
I didn't scream. I didn't cry for help.
I swung my left arm—the one holding the heavy ice pack wrapped in a towel—and brought it down across her face with every ounce of strength I had.
The heavy ice collided with Vanessa’s cheekbone with a sickening thud.
She shrieked, stumbling backward and crashing into my wooden dresser. A framed photograph and a cheap lamp shattered onto the floor. Vanessa clutched her face, a trickle of dark blood escaping from the corner of her perfectly painted lips.
She looked up at me, pure, unadulterated murder in her eyes.
"I am going to destroy you," Vanessa spat, pushing herself off the dresser.
But she never got the chance to take another step.
The door to my bedroom didn't just open. It was violently kicked inward, the brass handle smashing into the drywall, leaving a massive dent.
Luca Moretti stood in the doorway.
He had taken off his tuxedo jacket. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and his chest was heaving. He looked like a wolf that had just kicked down the door of a sheep pen.
Behind him stood Daniel, the head of security, his hand resting on his weapon.
"Luca!" Vanessa immediately screamed, her voice shifting instantly from a venomous hiss to a pathetic, terrified wail. She threw herself toward him, clutching his arm. "Thank God you're here! She hit me! The maid hit me!"
Luca didn't look at her. He didn't even acknowledge the blood on her face.
His dark, lethal eyes were locked entirely on me. Or rather, on the little boy clinging to my neck.
"Matteo," Luca breathed.
The little boy turned his head slightly. He looked at the massive, terrifying man standing in the doorway. He looked at the yellow-haired monster clinging to his arm.
Matteo didn't run to his uncle. He buried his face back into my neck and began to cry.
The sound seemed to physically gut Luca. He looked at me, a silent, desperate question in his eyes.
"He's safe," I said quietly, my voice shaking. "I've got him."
"Luca, you have to listen to me!" Vanessa cried, pulling on his sleeve, playing her role to perfection. "I found her trying to sneak him out! She was trying to kidnap him! She stole your mother’s pearls to finance her escape, look!"
She pointed dramatically at the bed.
Luca finally tore his eyes away from Matteo. He looked at the pearls. Then, he looked at the folded legal document resting next to them.
He slowly reached out and picked up the paper.
Vanessa held her breath, waiting for her trump card to land.
Luca opened the document. He read the heavy black text. He saw the notary stamp. He saw his own forged signature.
The reversal happened in utter silence.
Luca didn't shout. He didn't tear the paper up. He simply folded it back perfectly and slid it into his pocket.
He turned his head slowly, looking down at the woman who had shared his bed, eaten at his table, and systematically tortured his family.
"You think this piece of paper protects you," Luca said, his voice dropping into a deadly, quiet register that made the hair on my arms stand up.
"It's a legal document, Luca," Vanessa said, stepping back, the fear finally bleeding through her arrogant facade. "The judge signed it. If you touch me, I will ruin you."
"A judge signed a document stating that I gave you conservatorship," Luca corrected softly. "But you didn't forge this signature yourself, Vanessa. You don't have the clearance to access my private safe where my signature stamps are kept."
Vanessa swallowed hard.
"Someone inside this house helped you," Luca continued, his eyes drifting away from her and landing squarely on Daniel, the head of security standing in the doorway. "Someone who had the master keys. Someone who knew the east wing was empty. Someone who could tell my guards to ignore a locked door."
Daniel froze.
I looked at the security head. He was wearing a dark, tailored suit. And clipped to his vest pocket, glinting in the harsh hallway light, was a silver pocket watch.
It was the exact same pocket watch I had seen Luca place in his private, biometric safe three days ago.
Luca didn't even look back at Vanessa. He kept his eyes locked on Daniel.
"Shut the door, Daniel," Luca commanded quietly.
May you like
Daniel’s hand dropped from the doorknob. He didn't close the door. Instead, his hand dropped to his holster, and the heavy, metallic click of a safety being disengaged echoed in the quiet room.
He drew his weapon and leveled it directly at Luca's chest.
