Chapter 4 - THE PRICE OF A SICK MOTHER
The heavy steel of Luca’s pistol caught the light of the crystal chandelier.
Thirty-two wealthy guests held their breath. Several women quietly pushed their chairs back, ready to run.
Don Bellini stared down the barrel of the gun. The older mob boss didn't flinch, but his grip on my shoulder slowly loosened. He raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender, a cold, dark smile spreading across his face.
"You would start a war over a maid, Luca?" Bellini asked, his voice dripping with condescension. "Your father would roll in his grave."
"My father is dead," Luca said, his voice deadpan. "I am the head of this family. And in my house, we do not put our hands on women. Step back."
Bellini slowly lowered his hands and took a step back, straightening his expensive suit jacket.
Luca didn't lower the gun. He kept his eyes locked on Bellini but spoke to me. "Megan. Are you hurt?"
"N-no, sir," I stammered, my legs feeling like they were made of jelly. I kept my arm firmly wrapped around Margaret, who was trembling violently against my side.
Vanessa rushed forward, grabbing her father’s arm. "Papa, let it go. Luca is just... he's just emotional. The tape upset him." She turned her desperate eyes to Luca. "Put it away, darling. Please. The guests."
Luca slowly lowered the weapon, slipping it seamlessly back into the concealed holster beneath his jacket.
"The dinner is over," Luca announced, his voice carrying effortlessly across the massive room. "Everyone, please leave. Immediately."
There was a sudden flurry of movement as Chicago's most dangerous and wealthy citizens grabbed their coats and made a hasty exit. Nobody wanted to be in the crossfire of a broken mafia alliance.
Within three minutes, the dining room was empty, save for Luca, Vanessa, Don Bellini, Margaret, and me.
"You're making a terrible mistake, boy," Bellini warned, stepping toward the double oak doors. "Our families need this union. You think your little empire can survive without the ports my family controls?"
"I'll take my chances," Luca replied.
Bellini sneered. He looked at me, his eyes raking over my cheap uniform. Then he looked at Vanessa. "Fix this," he ordered his daughter, before turning on his heel and walking out.
Vanessa whipped around to face Luca. Tears of genuine panic streamed down her perfect makeup.
"Luca, you can't do this! You can't cancel the wedding over a dead woman's sentimental rambling!"
"She wasn't just a dead woman, Vanessa. She was my mother." Luca walked over to the table and gently picked up the faded sketch I had drawn ten years ago. "And she saw something in this girl that she never saw in you."
Vanessa’s face contorted with rage. She turned her venomous gaze onto me.
"You think you've won?" Vanessa hissed, stepping toward me. "You think you're going to trade in your mop for a diamond ring?"
"I don't want anything," I said quickly, backing away. "I just want to keep my job."
Vanessa laughed. It was an ugly, desperate sound. "Your job? Oh, sweetheart. You're going to lose a lot more than your job."
She reached into her designer clutch and pulled out her phone.
"I know exactly who you are, Megan Collins," Vanessa said smoothly, her panic suddenly replaced by a terrifying calm. "I do background checks on all the staff who work near my fiancé. I know you send eight hundred dollars a week to the Oakwood Care Facility."
My blood ran cold. The floor seemed to drop out from under me.
"My mother is a patient there," I whispered.
"Yes, she is," Vanessa smiled. "Recovering from severe kidney failure. Requires expensive, round-the-clock dialysis. A tragic situation."
Luca stepped forward. "Vanessa, stop."
"No, Luca, let the little saint understand how the real world works," Vanessa snapped. She looked back at me. "Did you know that my father’s shell company, Vanguard Holdings, purchased the Oakwood Care Facility three months ago?"
A physical wave of nausea hit me.
"If I make one phone call," Vanessa said, tapping the screen of her phone, "your mother will be discharged tomorrow morning. For non-payment of premium fees. They will put a desperately ill woman on the curb, Megan. She won't survive the week."
I couldn't breathe. Tears spilled hot and fast down my cheeks.
"Please," I begged, stepping away from Margaret and moving toward Vanessa. "Please, don't do that. She has nothing to do with this. I'll leave. I'll quit right now. I'll never speak to Mr. Moretti again."
Luca grabbed my arm, stopping me from walking any closer to Vanessa.
"You aren't going anywhere, Megan," Luca growled.
"Mr. Moretti, let me go!" I cried, trying to pull away from his grip. "She's going to kill my mother!"
Luca turned to his fiancée. The look in his eyes was so dark, so completely devoid of mercy, that even Vanessa took a step back.
"If you make that phone call, Vanessa," Luca said, his voice a lethal whisper, "I will burn Vanguard Holdings to the ground. And then I will go after your father’s shipping ports. I will leave your family with nothing but the clothes on your backs."
Vanessa’s lip trembled. "You would ruin your own business to protect a maid?"
"I'm not protecting a maid," Luca said, his grip on my arm remaining firm, grounding me. "I'm protecting the girl who held my mother when she was dying."
Vanessa stared at him, realizing for the first time that she had completely lost control of the man she intended to marry. She let out a frustrated scream, threw her champagne glass against the wall where it shattered into a hundred pieces, and stormed out of the dining room.
The heavy doors slammed shut behind her.
I collapsed to my knees, sobbing into my hands. My mother was everything to me. The thought of her being thrown out into the cold street was paralyzing.
Margaret knelt beside me, wrapping her frail arms around my shaking shoulders. "Breathe, child. Breathe."
I felt Luca kneel on my other side. The powerful mafia boss, wearing a bespoke suit, kneeling on the floor covered in shattered glass.
He reached out and gently pulled my hands away from my face.
"Look at me, Megan," he commanded softly.
I forced my tear-filled eyes to meet his.
"I give you my word," Luca said, his thumb gently wiping a tear from my cheek. "No one is going to touch your mother. I will move her to a private facility tonight. My security will guard her door."
I swallowed hard. "Why are you doing this for me?"
Luca looked at the silver bracelet on my wrist. Then, he reached into his own jacket pocket.
He pulled out a faded, rectangular piece of paper. It looked like an old ticket stub.
"Because ten years ago," Luca said quietly, handing me the ticket. "I was at that hospital too. I was parking the car when my mother collapsed."
I looked down at the ticket. It was a St. Jude's visitor pass, dated the exact day I had helped Catherine.
"When I ran into the lobby," Luca whispered, his eyes searching mine, "I saw a girl in a yellow sweater running out the sliding doors crying. I never forgot her face."
He paused, the silence stretching between us.
"I saw you, Megan. And I've been looking for you ever since."
But before I could process what he was saying, the grand double doors of the dining room burst open again.
It was Luca's head of security, Marco, breathless and bleeding from a cut on his forehead.
"Boss," Marco gasped, leaning against the doorframe. "Vanessa didn't leave the property. She went down to the estate’s vault."
Luca stood up instantly, his demeanor shifting from tender to lethal. "What did she take?"
Marco swallowed hard. "She didn't take anything. She planted something. The police are pulling up to the front gates right now."
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Marco pointed a shaking finger directly at me.
"They have an anonymous tip that Megan Collins stole the Moretti family diamonds."
