Chapter 5 - THE TRAIN TICKET
Vanessa’s words hung in the air, toxic and paralyzing.
My mother’s life support.
She had been in a medically induced coma for three months following a severe stroke. The machines were breathing for her. If Vanessa turned them off, she wouldn’t last ten minutes.
“You wouldn’t,” I whispered, my legs suddenly unable to support my weight.
Luca caught my arm, keeping me standing.
He looked down at Vanessa, the gun still gripped loosely in his right hand.
“If you touch a hair on her mother’s head,” Luca said, his voice devoid of any human warmth, “I will make sure they never find enough of you to bury, Vanessa.”
Vanessa laughed. It was a sharp, grating sound that echoed off the marble walls.
“Oh, Luca. Always the dramatic romantic.” She slowly walked over to a silver tray on the entryway table and picked up a small, rectangular piece of paper. “I don’t want to hurt the poor woman. I simply want what I was promised. I want the wedding to proceed tomorrow as planned. And I want the maid gone.”
She held the piece of paper up.
It was a train ticket.
“A one-way ticket to Los Angeles,” Vanessa announced, her eyes locking onto mine. “The train leaves Union Station in forty-five minutes. Emma gets on that train, she never contacts this family again, and her mother receives the best care money can buy. If she misses the train… well, hospitals make tragic mistakes every day.”
She was checking mate.
She knew Luca couldn’t kill her without killing my mother in the process. And she knew I would do anything to save the woman who raised me.
Luca tightened his grip on my arm.
“Do not negotiate with her, Emma,” he commanded softly. “I will find where she moved your mother. I have men—”
“We don’t have time,” I interrupted, my voice cracking.
I looked at the train ticket in Vanessa’s hand.
It wasn’t just a piece of paper. It was my mother’s life.
I gently pulled my arm out of Luca’s grasp.
“Emma, no,” Luca said, his eyes filled with a desperate, unfamiliar panic. The Mafia boss who feared nothing was suddenly terrified of watching me walk out his front door.
“I have to,” I whispered, tears spilling hot down my cheeks.
I walked down the grand staircase, leaving Luca and a frightened Oliver at the top.
I stopped in front of Vanessa.
She looked at me with an expression of pure, unadulterated victory. She held out the train ticket.
“Smart girl,” Vanessa sneered quietly. “You always were good at taking orders.”
I reached out with my uninjured hand and snatched the ticket from her perfectly manicured fingers.
I didn’t look back at Luca. If I did, I knew I wouldn’t be able to leave.
I walked out the front doors into the freezing Chicago night, wearing nothing but my maid’s uniform, and started running toward the estate gates.
The ride to Union Station was a blur of neon lights and agonizing terror. I paid a taxi driver with the emergency cash I kept in my apron.
When I finally ran into the massive, echoing terminal of the train station, the clock above the departure board read 2:15 AM.
I had ten minutes.
I found the platform for the Los Angeles express. The massive silver train was idling, steam hissing from the undercarriage.
A conductor stood by the door, punching tickets.
I walked up to him, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold the paper.
“Ticket, miss?” he asked kindly, noticing my panicked state.
I held it out.
He took it, glanced at it, and frowned.
“I’m sorry, miss. This ticket isn’t for this train.”
My heart completely stopped.
“What do you mean?” I gasped, grabbing the edge of the metal doorway to keep from collapsing. “It says Los Angeles. It says 2:30 AM.”
“Yes, it does,” the conductor replied gently. “But look at the name on the passenger line. This is a restricted private sleeper car ticket. It requires a matching ID.”
He handed the ticket back to me.
I looked down at the tiny, printed letters I had been too terrified to read at the mansion.
The passenger name wasn’t Emma Reed.
It read: Oliver Moretti.
A wave of absolute, sickening realization washed over me.
Vanessa hadn’t bought this ticket to get rid of me. She had purchased it days ago.
She was planning to get rid of the heir.
She was going to send a six-year-old boy across the country, alone, into the hands of the Rossi syndicate, removing the only obstacle between her and total control of the Moretti empire once she married Luca.
She only used the ticket tonight as a prop to force me out of the house, knowing in my panic I wouldn’t read the fine print.
Which meant she had no intention of keeping my mother alive.
Once I was gone, she would kill them both.
“Miss? Are you alright?” the conductor asked, stepping forward.
I didn’t answer.
I turned around and sprinted back through the terminal, my lungs burning, the cold air tearing at my throat.
I burst through the station doors and hailed another cab.
“Drive,” I told the driver, throwing a crumpled twenty-dollar bill through the partition. “Take me back to the Moretti estate. Now.”
I had to get back. I had to warn Luca.
But as the cab sped through the empty city streets, my phone buzzed again.
I ripped it out of my apron, praying it was Luca.
It was a picture message from an unknown number.
I clicked it open.
It was a photo of Oliver.
He was sitting in the back of a dark SUV, crying, clutching his favorite stuffed bear.
May you like
Underneath the photo was a single line of text from Vanessa:
You missed your train, Emma. So Oliver took your place.
