Chapter 8 - THE GUEST LIST
The delicate music box melody tinkled merrily in the quiet study, completely oblivious to the explosive secret resting in my trembling hands.
Luca Moretti. November 12th. The Gala.
Tonight.
"Emily?" Noah asked, his small brow furrowed as he watched the color drain completely from my face. "What does it say?"
I quickly folded the aged parchment, shoving it deep into my apron pocket. I forced a calm, reassuring smile, though my heart was hammering violently against my ribs.
"It's just an old grocery list your mom wrote, sweetie," I lied smoothly, my voice remarkably steady. "The ink is really faded. Thank you for showing me."
Noah accepted the lie easily, distracted by the shiny new hinge on his box. "Okay. I'm going to go show Aunt Nina how it works now!"
He bolted out of the study, leaving me alone in the deafening silence of the room.
I pulled the paper back out, staring at Claire's frantic handwriting.
The betrayal is inside the house.
Claire hadn't just hidden a ledger proving the Bellinis broke the truce. She had uncovered a systematic assassination plot dismantling the leadership of the Moretti syndicate from within. And she had known they were coming for Luca.
But who was they?
If the betrayal was inside the house, it meant someone Luca trusted implicitly was orchestrating a coup.
My mind raced frantically. Silvio? No, Silvio had taken a bullet for Luca. Marco was dead.
The annual Moretti Foundation Charity Gala was tonight. It was a massive, public event held at a luxurious downtown hotel. It was supposed to be Luca's final official appearance as the head of the syndicate before announcing his retirement to the city's elite.
It was the perfect place for a public assassination.
I had to warn him.
I bolted out of the study, sprinting down the grand hallway toward the boardroom where Luca was meeting with the lawyers.
I burst through the heavy double doors, ignoring protocol entirely.
The room was filled with five men in sharp suits, reviewing stacks of legal documents.
But Luca wasn't there.
"Where is Mr. Moretti?" I demanded, breathless.
One of the lawyers looked up, irritated by the interruption. "He left ten minutes ago, Miss. He said he had to go to the hotel early to oversee the security sweep for the gala tonight."
Panic seized my chest in a vice grip. He was already at the location of the hit.
"Who is with him?" I asked frantically.
"Just his driver and Mr. Vance," the lawyer replied, returning to his paperwork.
My blood ran cold.
Mr. Vance.
Elias Vance was Luca's oldest advisor. He was a gray-haired, distinguished man who had served as a consigliere to Luca's father before advising Luca. He was considered family. He was the only person left in the inner circle with enough authority and respect to take over the syndicate if Luca died.
I pulled the crumpled list from my pocket. I looked at the first three names. Capos who had died in "accidents."
All three capos had been fiercely loyal to Luca. All three had opposed Elias Vance's aggressive expansion policies.
The betrayal was inside the house.
I didn't wait to explain. I turned and ran out of the boardroom, sprinting toward the staff quarters. I grabbed my coat and my purse, my hands shaking so badly I could barely zip my bag.
I couldn't call Luca. If Elias was in the car with him, Elias would know he had been compromised. I had to get to the hotel.
I ran out the back service entrance and flagged down a taxi on the main road.
"The Drake Hotel, downtown," I ordered the driver, sliding into the backseat. "Please, hurry."
The drive felt agonizingly slow. The Chicago traffic was dense, the autumn twilight settling over the city in a bruised purple haze.
I kept my eyes glued to the window, silently praying I wouldn't be too late.
The taxi pulled up to the grand entrance of the Drake Hotel. The red carpet was already rolled out, paparazzi setting up their cameras behind velvet ropes.
I threw a twenty-dollar bill at the driver and bolted out of the car.
I rushed through the revolving doors, ignoring the concierge, and headed straight for the grand ballroom on the second floor.
The ballroom was a hive of activity. Caterers were arranging massive floral centerpieces, sound technicians were testing microphones, and security personnel were sweeping the perimeter.
I scanned the massive room frantically, searching for Luca's dark hair and broad shoulders.
I spotted him.
He was standing near the edge of the stage, reviewing a seating chart with a clipboard. He looked relaxed, completely unaware of the crosshairs trained on his back.
And standing right behind him, speaking quietly into his ear, was Elias Vance.
I started running across the ballroom floor.
"Luca!" I screamed, my voice cutting through the noise of the event prep.
Luca whipped his head around, his eyes widening in shock when he saw me sprinting toward him in my street clothes.
"Rachel?" Luca asked, confused, stepping away from Elias. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be with Noah."
I reached him, breathless, my chest heaving. I didn't care who was watching. I grabbed his arm, pulling him forcefully away from the stage.
"You need to leave," I gasped, my eyes darting nervously to Elias, who was watching us with a cold, calculating glare. "Right now."
"Rachel, calm down," Luca said gently, resting his hands on my shoulders. "What's wrong? Is Noah okay?"
"Noah is fine," I whispered, stepping closer so only he could hear. I shoved the crumpled piece of aged parchment into his hand. "But you aren't."
Luca frowned, unfolding the paper.
He recognized Claire's handwriting immediately. His eyes scanned the list of names, stopping on his own at the bottom.
I watched the realization hit him. The terrifying, brilliant mind of the mafia boss instantly connected the dots. The "accidents." The timing. The gala.
He slowly looked up from the paper, his dark eyes locking onto Elias Vance.
Elias didn't look confused. He didn't look concerned.
He looked caught.
"Elias," Luca said, his voice dropping into a low, lethal register that sent shivers down my spine. "You ordered the hits on the capos."
Elias sighed, adjusting his expensive silk tie. The facade of the loyal advisor completely evaporated, leaving behind a ruthless, power-hungry predator.
"They were weak, Luca," Elias stated calmly, his voice echoing slightly in the large ballroom. "Just like your father. They wanted peace. They wanted legitimate business. This syndicate was built on blood and fear, not real estate contracts. You are dismantling our legacy."
"So you decided to murder my loyal men and orchestrate a coup," Luca summarized coldly, stepping slightly in front of me to shield my body.
"I did what was necessary for the survival of the family," Elias defended smoothly. "And tonight, the family needs a new head."
Elias raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
Instantly, six of the security personnel sweeping the ballroom stopped moving. They turned around, drawing heavy, suppressed pistols from beneath their jackets, aiming them directly at Luca and me.
They weren't Luca's men. They were Elias's loyalists, planted in the security detail.
The caterers and sound technicians screamed, dropping their equipment and scrambling for the exits in absolute panic.
Within seconds, the grand ballroom was empty, save for us and the gunmen.
"You really think you can execute me in the middle of a public hotel, Elias?" Luca challenged, not showing a single ounce of fear.
"There will be a tragic security breach," Elias smiled coldly. "A rival gang retaliation. You will die a martyr, Luca. And I will step in to fiercely avenge your death, rallying the entire syndicate behind my leadership."
May you like
Elias gestured to the gunmen.
"Kill them both," Elias ordered. "Make it messy."
