Chapter 2 - THE WINTER COAT IN THE BLACK VAN
“I’ve been waiting twenty-nine years for you to find out why our father wanted me gone.”
Adrian Vale’s voice echoed through the dining room.
He didn’t shout. He didn’t need to. The quiet certainty in his tone was far more terrifying than anger.
Luca Moretti stared at the man claiming to be his brother. The resemblance was impossible to ignore now. The jawline. The posture. The absolute absence of fear.
“You’re lying,” Luca said, his voice dangerously low.
“Ask your security chief,” Adrian replied, smiling as he poured himself another glass of wine. “Daniel has known the truth for six months. Haven’t you, Daniel?”
Daniel didn’t lower his weapon. But his hands were trembling.
“I had no choice, boss,” Daniel said, his eyes darting between Luca and Adrian. “He has my daughter. He took her from her dorm room in Boston. He said if I didn’t help him dismantle you from the inside, he’d send her back to me in pieces.”
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the room.
Vanessa was weeping quietly into her hands.
And little Noah was gripping my apron so tightly his knuckles were white.
“So this was the plan?” Luca asked, never taking his eyes off Adrian. “You infiltrate my home. You manipulate my fiancée. You kidnap the man who saved my life. All for a throne you think belongs to you?”
Adrian took a sip of his wine.
“I don’t want your throne, Luca. I want your life. The life I was supposed to have before our father handed me over to strangers like a piece of garbage.”
Adrian nodded toward Daniel. “Put him on his knees.”
Daniel swallowed hard. He stepped toward Luca, raising the barrel of his gun. “I’m sorry, boss. Please. On your knees.”
Luca didn’t move.
Instead, he looked down at Noah.
“Buddy,” Luca whispered. “Close your eyes.”
Noah squeezed his eyes shut.
In a fraction of a second, Luca moved. He didn’t back away. He stepped directly into the barrel of Daniel’s gun, grabbing the hot metal slide with his bare left hand and twisting it violently upward.
The gun fired into the crystal chandelier.
Glass rained down on the screaming guests.
Luca drove his right elbow into Daniel’s throat. The security chief collapsed, gasping for air.
Before Adrian’s men could draw their weapons, Luca snatched Daniel’s fallen gun from the marble floor.
“Sophie!” Luca roared over the chaos. “Get the boy!”
I didn’t think. I just moved. I scooped Noah into my arms, the adrenaline making him feel as light as paper.
Luca fired twice into the ceiling, sending the remaining guards diving for cover. He grabbed my arm and shoved me through the service doors toward the kitchen.
We ran.
Through the stainless-steel prep area. Down the back corridor. Out into the freezing, driving rain.
“The van!” Luca yelled, pointing toward the black vehicle idling near the service gates. “Thomas is in the van!”
We sprinted across the wet gravel. The driver of the van had stepped out, drawing a weapon, but Luca didn’t hesitate. He fired once, hitting the man in the shoulder. The driver dropped his gun and scrambled away into the dark hedges.
Luca yanked the heavy sliding door of the van open.
“Thomas!” Luca shouted, aiming his weapon inside.
I stood behind him, shielding Noah from the rain. My heart was pounding against my ribs.
But the back of the van was empty.
There was no Thomas Reed. There was no hostage.
Just a single, dim dome light illuminating the metal floor.
Luca stepped back, his chest heaving. “He’s not here.”
I stared into the back of the vehicle. My breath caught in my throat.
Lying in the center of the metal floor was a piece of clothing.
I slowly stepped past Luca and reached inside. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely grip the fabric.
It was a heavy, navy-blue winter coat.
With a small tear on the left pocket. And a missing brass button on the right sleeve.
“Sophie?” Luca asked, noticing the sheer panic on my face. “What is it?”
I pulled the coat against my chest.
“This is my mother’s coat,” I whispered, the rain mixing with my tears. “She wore it to the hospital three days ago.”
Luca went completely still.
May you like
“Your mother?”
Before I could answer, a burner phone resting on the dashboard of the van began to ring.
