Chapter 3 - THE BLUE COAT
I couldn't breathe.
Dominic’s eyes were like dark glass, reflecting the chandelier light but showing nothing underneath.
“It was just broken glass, Mr. Moretti,” I said.
My voice trembled.
I hated myself for it.
Dominic took a step closer.
He was shorter than Luca, but broader. He handled the family’s 'logistics.'
Everyone in the house knew what that really meant.
“Are you sure, Emma?” he asked gently. “Because it looked like you found something belonging to Vanessa.”
He reached his hand out.
Palm up.
A silent demand.
If I gave him the photo, he would know Isabella had a son.
I didn’t know why Vanessa was having Isabella followed, but the way Dominic had looked at her earlier—the way his hand had drifted to his jacket—told me everything I needed to know.
Vanessa wasn't the mastermind.
She was terrified of the man standing in front of me.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I said, looking down.
I pulled a jagged piece of crystal from the napkin.
I purposefully pressed my thumb against the sharpest edge.
Pain flared.
Blood instantly welled up, dripping down my hand and onto the mahogany floor.
“Oh!” I gasped, wrapping the napkin tightly around my bleeding thumb. “I cut myself. I need to get to the sink.”
Dominic’s smile vanished.
He looked at the blood.
He hated blood. It was a well-known secret among the staff.
He stepped back, his expression turning to mild disgust.
“Go get cleaned up,” he muttered, turning his back on me.
I hurried out of the dining room, my heart hammering so hard it hurt.
I burst into the kitchen, bypassing the main sink, and ducked into the small employee pantry.
I locked the door behind me.
My thumb was throbbing, but the cut wasn’t deep.
I rinsed it under the small utility faucet and wrapped a paper towel around it.
Then, with shaking hands, I pulled the photograph from my apron.
Isabella.
The little boy.
He had dark curls. He was clutching a small, stuffed bear.
He looked exactly like the childhood portraits of Luca.
I flipped the photo over.
Written in black marker on the back was a single line:
Target secured. Waiting for your green light. - M.
My stomach dropped.
Target secured.
They weren’t just taking pictures of Isabella’s child.
They were planning to take him.
A sharp knock on the pantry door made me jump.
“Emma?”
It was Maria, the head housekeeper.
“Open the door. Mr. Moretti wants to see you.”
I quickly shoved the photo deep into my shoe.
I unlocked the door.
Maria looked pale. “In the study. Now.”
I walked down the long, silent corridor.
The guests had already been escorted out. The mansion felt hollow, like a tomb.
I reached the heavy oak doors of Luca’s study.
I knocked once.
“Enter.”
Luca was standing by the massive stone fireplace.
He had taken off his suit jacket and tie.
He looked exhausted, the weight of a betrayal finally settling into his shoulders.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
He turned.
“You could have thrown those letters away, Emma.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Vanessa told you to ignore them. You risked your job to bring them to me.” He studied my face. “Why?”
I thought about my father.
Sitting in his wheelchair in our cramped apartment, waiting for me to come home.
“Because a father has a right to know if his child is trying to reach him,” I said quietly.
Luca’s eyes softened.
For a moment, he wasn’t the feared head of the Chicago syndicate.
He was just a dad who had lost three years with his little girl.
“I sent a car for her,” Luca said.
He checked his watch.
“She should be arriving any minute. I want you to prepare the blue guest suite. She’s coming home.”
Before I could answer, the heavy front doors of the mansion slammed open.
The sound echoed like a gunshot.
Luca and I both rushed into the foyer.
Standing in the doorway, soaked from the sudden evening rain, was Isabella Moretti.
She was beautiful, with her mother’s high cheekbones and Luca’s piercing dark eyes.
But she was completely out of breath.
Wild-eyed.
Terrified.
“Isabella,” Luca breathed, taking a step toward her.
“Don’t touch me!” she screamed, backing up against the heavy wooden door.
Luca froze. “Bella, please. I didn’t know. I swear to you, Vanessa hid the letters. I never wanted you gone.”
“I don’t care about Vanessa!” Isabella cried, her voice cracking.
She was shaking violently.
“I don’t care about the letters, or the locket!”
Luca looked confused. “Then why did you come?”
Isabella pulled back the heavy rain jacket she was wearing.
She wasn’t alone.
Standing behind her legs was a little boy.
He was wearing a bright blue winter coat.
He was clutching the exact same stuffed bear from the photograph.
Luca stared at the child, the breath completely knocked out of him.
“Bella… who is that?”
Isabella dropped to her knees, pulling the boy tight against her chest.
She looked up at her father, tears streaming down her face.
“They took him, Dad.”
Luca’s confusion instantly morphed into a lethal, terrifying focus.
“Who took him? He’s right here.”
“Not him,” Isabella sobbed, holding the boy tighter.
She looked past Luca, staring directly down the hallway.
May you like
Dominic was standing at the edge of the shadows.
“This is Leo,” Isabella whispered, her voice trembling with absolute terror. “But they took his twin brother.”
