Chapter 4 - THE TICKET TO MILAN
Vanessa couldn’t speak.
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
The twenty-eight guests at the dining table were completely silent.
Some were wealthy investors. Some were made men in Luca’s organization.
None of them moved a muscle.
“I asked you a question,” Luca said.
His voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. The quietness of it was terrifying.
Vanessa stepped backward, her heel catching on the edge of the Persian rug.
“Luca, you’re not thinking clearly,” she stammered. “You’re letting these... these peasants wind you up.”
She pointed at Teresa.
“She’s lying! She always hated me! She’s making up a story about copper wire to frame me!”
Teresa didn’t flinch. She just handed the rosary to Uncle Michael.
Michael inspected the clasp. He nodded once, slowly.
“It’s Elena’s,” he confirmed.
Luca didn’t look at them. He kept his eyes locked on Vanessa.
“Ten years ago, you were just a college student,” Luca said, tracing the timeline in his head out loud. “You didn’t know me. You didn’t know my mother. We didn’t meet until three years ago.”
Vanessa swallowed hard. “Exactly! Which means I couldn’t possibly—”
“Unless,” Luca interrupted, stepping closer, “you were planted.”
The word hung in the air like a drop of poison.
Planted.
In his world, that word meant a death sentence.
Vanessa’s eyes darted toward the exit.
Daniel, the head of security, quietly stepped in front of the double doors. He folded his arms.
Nobody was leaving.
“Luca, please,” Vanessa begged, dropping the proud socialite act entirely. “I bought it at a pawn shop! I swear to God! I saw it, thought it was beautiful, and bought it.”
“Which pawn shop?” Luca asked.
“I... I don’t remember! It was years ago in New York!”
“You keep your cheap pawn shop jewelry hidden in the back of your closet behind a loose floorboard?” Leo asked innocently from across the room.
Everyone looked at the seven-year-old boy.
Vanessa glared at him with such intense hatred that I stepped instinctively in front of Leo, shielding him.
Luca saw her glare.
He snapped his fingers.
“Daniel. Search her room.”
“No!” Vanessa shrieked, lunging forward to grab Luca’s arm. “You have no right! This is my house too!”
“You don’t have a house,” Luca said, peeling her fingers off his suit jacket one by one. “You have five minutes to tell me the truth before Daniel tears your bedroom apart.”
Vanessa was breathing heavily. She looked around the room, realizing she had no allies.
Not a single guest would meet her eye.
She turned to me.
“This is your fault,” she hissed.
She lunged at me.
She moved so fast I barely had time to react. Her hand grabbed the collar of my uniform, her nails digging into my neck.
“You little rat! I should have fired you the day I moved in!”
I grabbed her wrists, trying to pry her off without striking her, mindful of who she was.
But I didn’t have to.
A massive hand wrapped around the back of Vanessa’s neck.
Luca literally lifted her off me.
He threw her backward. She stumbled and fell hard against a serving cart. Crystal glasses shattered on the floor.
“Touch her again,” Luca snarled, standing between me and Vanessa, “and you won’t leave this room with your hands.”
My heart hammered in my chest.
He was protecting me.
Vanessa slowly pushed herself up. Her perfect hair was a mess. Her red satin dress was stained with spilled water.
She started to laugh.
It was a cold, ugly sound.
“You’re pathetic, Luca,” she spat. “You think you’re so smart. You think you’re the untouchable boss of Chicago. But you’ve been sleeping next to a ghost for three years.”
Luca didn’t react. “Daniel. Go.”
Daniel nodded and turned to open the doors.
But as he reached for the handle, I noticed something on the floor.
When Vanessa hit the serving cart, her small designer clutch had fallen off the table.
It popped open on the hardwood floor.
Among the lipstick and the compact mirror, a piece of heavy cardstock had slid out.
I stepped forward and picked it up.
Vanessa saw me. “Don’t touch that!”
I looked at it.
It was an airline ticket.
First class.
“Mr. Moretti,” I said softly.
He looked at me.
I handed him the ticket.
Luca read the destination.
“Milan,” he read aloud.
He looked at the departure time.
“Tonight. At 11:00 PM.”
The room buzzed with shock.
It was 8:00 PM right now.
Vanessa wasn’t just planning an engagement dinner tonight.
She was planning an escape.
“You were leaving,” Luca said, his voice laced with dangerous disbelief. “On the night of our engagement.”
Vanessa pressed her back against the wall.
“Answer me!” Luca roared.
Before she could speak, Mr. Caruso stepped forward.
“She wasn’t just leaving, Luciano,” the old man said quietly.
Luca turned to him.
Mr. Caruso pulled a folded piece of paper from his own pocket.
“She was cashing out.”
He held out the paper.
“The bank called me this morning to verify a signature on your mother’s trust. The trust that transfers to your wife upon your legal engagement.”
Luca took the paper.
“Someone tried to wire fifty million dollars to an offshore account in Milan this afternoon,” Mr. Caruso said.
Luca looked at the signature on the wire transfer.
It was his own signature.
Forged.
He looked up at Vanessa.
But she wasn’t looking at him anymore.
May you like
She was looking at Uncle Michael.
“Don’t look at me like I’m the only villain in the room,” Vanessa smiled cruelly. “Tell him, Michael. Tell him who gave me the account numbers.”
