Chapter 4 - THE TICKET
Emma dropped her duffel bag.
The heavy canvas hit the Persian rug with a dull thud.
She stared at the cream-colored paper in Luca’s hand. Even from across the room, she recognized the gold embossing of the Romano family crest.
“My name is Emma Reed,” she whispered, but the words shook.
Luca walked slowly around the mahogany desk. He didn’t take his eyes off her.
“Emma Reed is the name on your payroll file,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a dangerous baritone. “It’s the name on your background check. A check my father personally oversaw when he hired you three years ago.”
Emma took a step back, hitting the closed oak door. “I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s a train ticket,” Luca said, holding it up. “Dated twenty years ago. Issued to a child named Emmaline Romano. A child who vanished the same night the Romano crime family was slaughtered in New York.”
Emma’s breathing turned shallow. She clutched her bleeding hand to her chest.
“Mr. Moretti, please—”
“The Romanos were our biggest rivals,” Luca continued, his eyes searching her pale face. “They were wiped out by a rival syndicate. Everyone assumed the youngest daughter died in the fire.”
He stopped two feet away from her.
“But here is her ticket. Hidden in my safe. Beside a knife covered in your blood.”
Emma squeezed her eyes shut. “I didn’t put that there. I swear to you, I didn’t know.”
Luca studied her. The absolute terror. The way she instinctively curled her body as if waiting for a physical blow. She wasn’t a mastermind. She was a pawn.
But whose?
“Vanessa didn’t put this ticket in here,” Luca said quietly.
Emma opened her eyes. “What?”
“Vanessa is twenty-six. This ticket is twenty years old. My father kept this in his personal lockbox at the bank. I’ve seen it once, years ago.” Luca looked at the paper, his mind clicking through the deception. “My father moved it here tonight.”
“Why?” Emma choked out.
“Because framing a random maid for my murder is sloppy,” Luca explained, the dark reality settling in his chest. “But framing the long-lost heir of the Romano family? A girl who infiltrated my house under a fake name to avenge her murdered family? That gives the police a perfect motive. It gives the syndicate a perfect story.”
Emma let out a small, broken gasp. “He knew. Your father knew who I was the whole time.”
“He didn’t just know,” Luca said. “He orchestrated it. He hired you. He kept you close. A perfect scapegoat, just waiting for the right moment.”
Emma slid down the heavy oak door until she hit the floor. She buried her face in her good hand, sobbing quietly.
“I didn’t know,” she cried. “I never knew. My mother changed our names when I was seven. She told me my father died in a car crash. She gave me this life so I would be safe.”
Luca looked down at her.
A housemaid in a black dress with a white collar. A girl who had served him coffee every morning for three years, completely unaware that she was the heir to a mafia throne.
Suddenly, a heavy knock echoed against the study door, vibrating right against Emma’s back.
Emma screamed softly and scrambled away from the wood.
Luca grabbed her arm with his free hand, pulling her up and behind him.
He slid the bloodied hunting knife under a stack of ledgers on his desk. He shoved the train ticket into his inner jacket pocket.
“Who is it?” Luca called out, his voice instantly returning to the smooth, commanding tone of a boss.
“It’s Marco, boss.”
Luca relaxed slightly. Marco was his underboss. Loyal only to Luca, not his father.
Luca unlocked the door and opened it a crack.
Marco stood in the hallway, looking grim. He glanced past Luca and saw Emma standing near the bookshelves, clutching her wrapped hand, looking terrified.
Marco’s eyes snapped back to Luca.
“We have a situation downstairs,” Marco said in a low voice.
“What is it?”
“Your father just made a toast,” Marco said. “He announced that you and Vanessa are retiring to the study to sign the prenuptial agreement. He told the guests they could begin leaving.”
Luca’s blood ran cold.
The timeline.
As soon as the guests leave, we do it.
“Where is Vanessa?” Luca asked sharply.
“She left the dining room five minutes ago,” Marco said. “She said she was coming up here to meet you.”
Luca looked down both ends of the long, shadowed hallway. Empty.
“She’s not here,” Luca said.
Marco frowned. “Boss, one of the valets just radioed in. He said Vanessa went out the back kitchen exit. She had a heavy wool coat on.”
Luca’s mind raced. Why would Vanessa leave the house if the assassination was supposed to happen inside?
Unless she wasn’t the one pulling the trigger.
“Marco,” Luca said urgently. “Where is my father right now?”
“He’s at the front door, seeing off the mayor.”
Luca turned back to Emma. “What kind of coat was Vanessa wearing when she cut you in the pantry?”
Emma blinked, trying to process the rapid questions. “It was… it was dark. A men’s coat. It was much too big for her.”
Luca cursed under his breath. “It was my father’s coat.”
He turned back to Marco. “Lock down the perimeter. No one leaves. No one enters. If my father tries to walk out the front door, detain him.”
“On what grounds?” Marco asked, his eyes widening.
“Treason,” Luca said coldly.
Marco nodded once and jogged down the stairs.
Luca turned back to his office. He grabbed his own sidearm from his desk drawer and racked the slide.
He looked at Emma.
“You’re staying here,” he ordered. “Lock the door behind me. Do not open it for anyone except me.”
Emma shook her head frantically. “Vanessa took his coat. Why did she take his coat?”
“I don’t know,” Luca said.
“Mr. Moretti!” Emma gasped, her eyes widening in sudden, horrific realization. “The drawing!”
Luca froze at the door. “What?”
“Lily’s drawing!” Emma cried, pointing at her duffel bag on the floor. “When you came into my room, I dropped it. But I had it tucked inside an envelope.”
Luca strode over to the bag. He unzipped it. He pulled out the scattered clothes.
He found the envelope. It was empty.
“Vanessa was in my room earlier today,” Emma whispered, her whole body shaking. “She threatened Lily. I thought she just saw the drawing on my dresser. But what if she took the envelope it came in?”
Luca turned the empty envelope over.
On the back flap, in neat cursive, was the return address.
St. Jude’s Academy for Girls.
Burlington, Vermont.
Luca looked at Emma. The pure devastation on her face mirrored the dread in his own chest.
Vanessa wasn’t running away.
She was going to finish the job. If the framing fell apart, she needed leverage.
The radio on Luca’s belt buzzed. It was the valet.
“Mr. Moretti? Vanessa Bellini just drove through the front gates in your father’s Mercedes. She told security you authorized it.”
May you like
Luca pressed the mic. “Stop that car.”
“Sir, she’s already gone.”
