Chapter 12 - THE FAMILY YOU CHOOSE
I stared at Luca, confused. “Isabella? But she didn't know where I was.”
“She didn't,” Luca explained, walking closer. “But when she gave you the envelope with the check, she hugged you. She felt you slip something heavy into your apron pocket when you found the keys in the foyer. When she checked the coat closet later, she realized Dominic’s wallet was missing.”
Luca looked down at the metal tin in his hands.
“Isabella knew you wouldn't take money. You’re too honest. Which meant you took something else. When she told me, I had my security team track your cell phone GPS. We followed you to the bank, and then to the bridge.”
He opened the lid of the tin.
He pulled out the manila folder. He scanned the first page of the ledgers, and then the coroner’s payoff receipt.
Luca’s jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek.
He looked at the blood-stained brass fitting, and finally, my father’s journal.
“He found it,” Luca whispered, the weight of a twenty-year betrayal finally validating itself in his hands. “Your father found the truth.”
Luca looked at my dad, who was leaning heavily on his cane, watching the mafia boss with tired, frightened eyes.
Luca didn't act like a boss.
He walked over to my father, a man wearing cheap clothes and struggling to stand, and Luca Moretti bowed his head.
“Mr. Reed,” Luca said, his voice thick with emotion. “You risked your life to expose the man who murdered my wife. You paid a terrible price for my family’s sins. I cannot give you back the years you lost.”
Luca reached out and gently shook my father’s good hand.
“But I swear on my life, you will never want for anything again. You will have the best doctors in the world. And Dominic will rot in a federal cell until the day he dies.”
My father looked at Luca. He squeezed the boss’s hand, and managed to slur a single, profound word.
“Good.”
Luca turned back to me. He handed me the metal tin, but kept the folder of evidence.
“I need this,” Luca said. “To give to the district attorney. It’s the final nail in Dominic’s coffin.”
“Take it,” I said.
Luca looked at the bleeding driver, who was currently being zip-tied by the enforcers.
“Clean this up,” Luca ordered. “And get Mr. Reed to the private wing at Northwestern Memorial. Tell the chief of neurology he is under my personal protection.”
The men nodded, gently escorting my father toward a waiting SUV at the end of the bridge.
Luca turned back to me one last time.
“You’re fired, Emma.”
I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone.
“Sir?”
A warm smile broke across Luca’s scarred face.
“You don't carry towels anymore. Isabella needs an executive assistant to help her manage the legitimate side of the holding company. She wants you. The salary is six figures. No aprons. No picking up broken glass.”
I felt my breath catch in my throat.
“I don't know anything about running a company, Mr. Moretti.”
“You know loyalty,” Luca said quietly. “You know bravery. The rest, you can learn.”
He turned and walked away, disappearing into the Chicago crowd, leaving me alone on the bridge with the cold wind blowing off the river.
One Year Later.
The grand ballroom of the Moretti mansion was unrecognizably bright.
There were no drawn curtains. No armed guards lurking in the shadows.
The heavy oak doors were thrown wide open, letting the warm summer breeze sweep through the estate.
It was Leo and Matteo’s fifth birthday party.
The lawn was covered in balloons, a massive bounce house, and dozens of children running freely.
Isabella was laughing, holding a tray of cupcakes, chasing Matteo across the grass while Leo rode proudly on Luca’s broad shoulders.
I stood on the patio, wearing a tailored navy pantsuit, holding a clipboard with the catering schedule.
I checked off the final delivery of ice cream.
“Looking sharp, Boss,” a voice said behind me.
I turned.
My father sat in a motorized, state-of-the-art wheelchair. His left side was still weak, but his face had regained its color, and months of intense, private physical therapy had worked wonders on his speech. He was wearing a nice suit, a glass of iced tea in his hand.
“Hey, Dad,” I smiled, walking over to kiss his cheek. “Are you comfortable?”
“I’m watching a mafia don wear a party hat,” my father chuckled, pointing his cane at Luca, who indeed had a brightly colored cone strapped to his head. “I’m very comfortable.”
I laughed, looking out at the family.
Dominic was in a maximum-security federal penitentiary serving a life sentence without the possibility of parole.
Vanessa had been arrested trying to board a flight to Dubai and was currently cooperating with the feds.
The shadows that had haunted this mansion for twenty years were gone.
Isabella jogged up the patio steps, slightly out of breath, handing me a cupcake.
“You need to stop working, Emma,” Isabella scolded playfully. “It’s a party.”
“I’m your assistant,” I reminded her, taking a bite of the vanilla frosting. “It’s my job to make sure the party doesn't run out of ice cream.”
“Not today,” Isabella said, taking the clipboard from my hands and tossing it onto a patio chair.
She linked her arm through mine.
“Today, you’re just Aunt Emma. Now come on, Dad is about to try and break the piñata and I need someone to record it before he throws out his back.”
I looked at my dad. He smiled and waved me off.
I walked down the steps onto the bright, green lawn, the sun warm on my face.
May you like
For the first time in my life, I wasn't standing in the background. I wasn't invisible.
I was exactly where I belonged.
