Chapter 2 - THE CATERING VAN
The silence in the study was absolute.
I watched Luca Moretti stare at the heavy oak door. He didn't blink. He didn't move. The only sign he had even heard me was the slow, terrifying tightening of his jaw until the muscle feathered.
I just don’t want people like you reminding him he doesn’t belong with people like me.
The words echoed in the large room, cold and ugly.
Luca had spent his life building an empire, transforming a street-level operation into a legitimate, multi-million-dollar syndicate. He had bought this mansion. He had bought the suits, the cars, the politicians.
But Vanessa had just reminded him that, to her, he was still just a thug in an expensive suit.
And she had used the woman who raised him to deliver the message.
Luca didn't shout. He didn't overturn his desk. He simply turned back to me, his dark eyes entirely devoid of warmth.
“Julia,” he said, his voice dropping into a deadly, quiet register. “Are you certain those were her exact words?”
“I swear on my life, sir.”
He nodded slowly. He picked up Teresa’s navy handbag and gently placed it inside his desk drawer, locking it with a small brass key.
“You did well, Julia. Thank you.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked, shivering despite the warmth of the study.
“I’m going to find my aunt,” Luca said. “And then I am going to remind my fiancée exactly who she is dealing with.”
He walked past me, opening the study door.
“Go to the staff quarters. Lock your door. Do not speak to Vanessa tonight.”
I didn't argue. I practically ran down the servant’s corridor.
When I reached my small room, I locked the deadbolt and sat on the edge of my narrow bed. My shoulder throbbed, a dull, relentless ache. I knew I should sleep, but my heart was hammering too fast.
I couldn't stop thinking about Teresa. A seventy-one-year-old woman, humiliated, separated from her belongings, wandering around Union Station in the dark because she thought her nephew was ashamed of her.
Two hours passed.
The mansion grew quiet as the remaining staff went to bed and the final cleanup crews departed.
At exactly 12:15 AM, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.
I jumped.
It was an internal extension number.
I answered it with a trembling hand. “Hello?”
“Julia.”
It was Daniel. The head of Luca’s security.
“Yes, Mr. Daniel?”
“The Boss needs you in the main garage. Use the service stairs.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
I didn't ask questions. I threw a dark sweater over my shoulders to hide my sling and hurried down the back stairs. The air grew colder as I reached the massive, subterranean garage beneath the estate.
It was brightly lit, smelling of motor oil and expensive leather. Four black SUVs were parked in a neat row.
Luca was standing beside the last one. Daniel and two other heavily armed guards were with him.
Luca wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore. His tie was gone, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. He looked exhausted, but his eyes burned with a dangerous intensity.
“We found the catering van,” Luca said as I approached.
“Did you find Teresa?” I asked anxiously.
Luca shook his head grimly. “No. The driver abandoned the van in a long-term parking lot near O’Hare. He wiped the steering wheel and took the keys.”
“O’Hare?” I gasped. “But he told Daniel he took her to Union Station!”
“He lied,” Daniel grunted, crossing his massive arms. “He was trying to buy time.”
“Time for what?”
Luca looked at me. “We pulled the GPS data from the van before he disabled it. He didn't go to Union Station. He drove straight to a private airfield on the West Side.”
My blood ran cold.
“A private airfield? Why would he take her there?”
“Because Vanessa didn't just want to embarrass my aunt,” Luca said, his voice laced with pure venom. “She wanted to get rid of her permanently.”
He turned to a large, flat-screen monitor mounted on the garage wall. Daniel typed on a keyboard, bringing up a flight manifest.
“We hacked the airfield’s logs,” Daniel explained. “A private charter took off at 5:30 PM. The destination was listed as a private medical facility in upstate New York.”
“A medical facility?” I whispered.
“A psychiatric care home,” Luca corrected. “Owned by a shell company connected to Vanessa’s father.”
The sheer magnitude of the betrayal hit me like a physical blow.
Vanessa hadn't just kicked an old woman out of a wedding. She had kidnapped her. She was trying to have Luca’s aunt committed to a psychiatric facility to ensure she never spoke to him again, permanently removing the 'embarrassing' side of his family.
“Why am I here, sir?” I asked, terrified of the answer.
“Because the pilot of that charter just landed back in Chicago twenty minutes ago,” Luca said softly. “My men intercepted him. He’s in the back room right now.”
Luca walked toward a heavy steel door at the back of the garage.
“He refuses to tell us exactly which facility he dropped her at. He claims he doesn't know. He claims he just followed instructions.”
Luca stopped at the door and looked back at me.
“He won't talk to me, Julia. He thinks I’m going to kill him.”
“Are you?” I asked.
“That depends entirely on whether he answers my next question,” Luca said coldly.
He opened the door.
I followed him into a stark, concrete room. A single metal chair sat in the center.
Sitting in the chair was the pilot. He was young, terrified, and bleeding from a split lip. Two of Luca’s guards stood behind him.
When the pilot saw Luca, he cringed, his eyes wide with panic.
“I told your men, I don't know the address!” the pilot cried out. “The manifest just had coordinates for an airstrip! An ambulance met us on the tarmac! That’s all I know, I swear to God!”
Luca walked slowly into the room. He didn't yell. He didn't raise a hand.
He stopped directly in front of the pilot.
“You picked up a seventy-one-year-old woman,” Luca said quietly. “Without her purse. Without her phone. Without her glasses. And you handed her over to strangers in an ambulance.”
“I was paid to fly!” the pilot sobbed. “Miss Bellini authorized the payment! I didn't ask questions!”
“But you noticed things,” Luca insisted. “You spent two hours in a small plane with her.”
The pilot nodded frantically. “Yes! Yes, I noticed things!”
Luca turned to me.
“Julia. What did Teresa look like when she left the ballroom?”
I stepped forward, my voice shaking. “She was crying. She was very upset.”
Luca turned back to the pilot.
“Was she crying on the plane?”
The pilot hesitated. He looked down at the concrete floor.
“No.”
Luca went completely still.
“No?”
“She wasn't crying, Mr. Moretti,” the pilot said, his voice dropping to a terrified whisper. “She was unconscious.”
The room went dead silent.
“Unconscious?” Luca repeated, the word sounding foreign.
“She was asleep the whole flight,” the pilot stammered. “The catering driver... he carried her onto the plane. He said she had taken a sedative for her nerves.”
My hand flew to my mouth.
Teresa hadn't just been tricked. She had been drugged.
Luca’s expression didn't change, but the air around him seemed to drop ten degrees. The terrifying, calculated monster everyone whispered about finally surfaced.
“Daniel,” Luca said softly.
“Yes, Boss.”
“Find the catering driver. I don't care what hole he’s hiding in. Find him tonight.”
“It’s being handled, Boss.”
Luca looked back at the pilot.
“You said an ambulance picked her up.”
“Yes! A private transport!”
“What was the name on the side of the ambulance?”
The pilot squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to remember.
“I don't know! It was dark! It just had a logo... a green cross with a circle around it!”
Daniel immediately typed on a tablet.
“Boss. Green cross, circle. That’s the logo for Oakwood Sanctuary. It’s an elite, private psychiatric facility near the Canadian border.”
Luca nodded slowly. He didn't look at the pilot again.
He turned and walked out of the concrete room.
I followed him back into the garage.
“Are we going to New York?” I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“I am,” Luca said. “You are staying here.”
“But—”
“Julia,” Luca interrupted, turning to me with a fierce, protective intensity. “Vanessa knows you were in the ballroom. She knows you saw what happened. If she realizes you told me, she will target you.”
“She’s upstairs sleeping!” I pointed out.
“For now,” Luca said grimly. “But when she wakes up and realizes I’m gone, she will start asking questions. I need you to pack a bag. Daniel is moving you to a secure safehouse until I return.”
I stared at him. The reality of the danger finally hitting me.
“Mr. Moretti, if you go to that facility with your men, they’ll call the police. You can't just storm a hospital.”
Luca smiled, a cold, terrifying expression.
“I don't need to storm it, Julia.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, encrypted cell phone.
“I own the bank that holds the mortgage on Oakwood Sanctuary,” Luca said smoothly. “By the time my plane lands, I’ll own the building.”
He turned to Daniel.
“Get the jet ready.”
Daniel nodded. “Yes, Boss.”
Luca looked at me one last time.
“Pack your things, Julia. Quickly.”
I didn't argue. I turned and ran back toward the service stairs, ignoring the throbbing pain in my shoulder.
I reached the second-floor landing, intending to go straight to my room.
But as I stepped out of the stairwell, I froze.
The long, carpeted hallway leading to the guest suites was dark.
And standing at the far end of the corridor, silhouetted in the moonlight spilling from a window, was Vanessa.
She was wearing a silk robe.
And she was holding my cell phone.
“Looking for this, Julia?” Vanessa asked softly, her voice echoing in the quiet hallway.
She held the phone up. The screen was glowing.
I had left it on my nightstand when Daniel called me down to the garage.
“Why were you in my room?” I whispered, backing toward the stairwell door.
Vanessa smiled, a chilling, predatory expression.
“I heard the garage doors open,” she purred, walking slowly toward me. “I went to check on my darling fiancé, but his bed was empty. So, I thought I’d check on the maid he seems so fond of.”
She stopped ten feet away.
“Imagine my surprise when I found a text message on your phone from his head of security, calling you to a secret meeting in the middle of the night.”
Vanessa tilted her head, her eyes narrowing.
“Now, why would Luca’s head of security need a clumsy maid at 12:15 in the morning?”
I couldn't speak. My mouth was bone dry.
Vanessa took another step closer.
“You told him, didn't you?” she hissed.
“I don't know what you mean,” I lied, stepping back until my hand hit the cold handle of the stairwell door.
Vanessa laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound.
“You stupid girl,” Vanessa sneered. “You think Luca can protect you? You think a mafia boss cares about a maid?”
She reached into the pocket of her silk robe.
She pulled out a small, suppressed pistol.
“Luca is a powerful man,” Vanessa said smoothly, aiming the gun directly at my chest. “But he’s arrogant. He thinks he controls everything. He doesn't know that half of his security detail actually works for my father.”
My blood ran cold.
May you like
Daniel wasn't the only one in the garage.
“If Luca leaves for New York tonight,” Vanessa smiled, “he won't make it to the airport.”
