Chapter 2 - THE WRONG ADDRESS
"A completely different address?" Luca’s voice was dangerously quiet.
Daniel stood rigidly in the rain. "Yes, sir. I checked the gate logs. The driver punched in a destination on the West Side. The old industrial district."
Luca didn’t yell.
He didn’t throw anything.
He simply walked past Margaret, past the empty catering crates, and straight into the kitchen.
I was sitting on a stool near the pantry, pressing a bag of crushed ice against my ribs.
The pain was throbbing, a sharp, constant reminder of the concrete steps.
But when the kitchen doors swung open and Luca walked in, I forgot how to breathe.
His dark eyes swept the room, ignoring the terrified kitchen staff, until they locked onto me.
"Where is she?" he demanded.
I stood up too quickly. The ice pack slipped from my fingers, shattering against the tile.
"Mr. Moretti? I don't—"
"My fiancée, Emily. Where did she go?"
Before I could answer, the dining room doors opened.
Vanessa stepped through, her red silk gown trailing behind her. She had a crystal champagne flute in one hand and a calm, perfectly practiced smile on her face.
"Darling, there you are," she said smoothly. "Your guests are wondering why the groom has abandoned his own engagement party."
Luca didn’t look at her dress.
He didn’t look at her smile.
He walked slowly across the kitchen tiles, stopping inches from her.
"Where is my mother?"
Vanessa’s smile didn’t falter, but her knuckles turned white around the glass.
"I told you, Luca. She was feeling unwell. I sent Thomas to take her to Chicago Memorial."
"Daniel just pulled the GPS logs from Thomas’s car," Luca said softly. "They aren’t heading to the hospital."
The silence in the kitchen was absolute.
Vanessa took a slow sip of her champagne. "Technology is so unreliable these days. I’m sure Thomas just took a shortcut."
"To the West Side?"
"Traffic," she replied smoothly.
"Thomas has worked for my family for twenty years," Luca said. "He doesn’t take detours without my permission. Unless someone gave him a very specific, very threatening reason to."
Vanessa sighed, setting her glass on the counter. "Luca, you’re being paranoid. This is our night. Let’s go back inside."
She reached for his arm.
He caught her wrist.
Not hard enough to bruise, but firm enough that she froze.
"Margaret is in the courtyard," Luca said.
Vanessa’s confident expression finally cracked. Just a fraction of an inch, but I saw it.
Her eyes darted toward me, a flash of pure, venomous panic, before snapping back to Luca.
"I don't know anyone named Margaret," she lied perfectly.
"She’s the caterer you locked in the storage room," Luca said. "The one you threatened. The one whose dessert you tried to poison my mother with."
Vanessa jerked her hand back. "That is an absurd accusation! That woman is clearly unstable. And if you’re going to take the word of the help over your future wife—"
"I’m taking the word of the GPS," Luca interrupted. "Call Thomas. Right now."
Vanessa lifted her chin. "No."
"Call him."
"I will not be interrogated in front of the maid," she snapped, glaring at me. "Especially a clumsy, eavesdropping girl who can't even carry a platter properly."
I stepped back, my ribs burning.
Luca turned his head. "Emily."
I swallowed hard. "Yes, sir?"
"When you were in the courtyard… did you see Vanessa give Thomas anything?"
My heart hammered against my chest.
Vanessa was staring at me. A promise of destruction in her eyes.
"Answer him, Emily," she challenged smoothly. "Tell him what you saw."
I looked at Luca. His expression was completely unreadable, a wall of pure authority. But beneath it, I saw the genuine fear for his mother.
"She gave him an envelope," I whispered.
Vanessa’s face went pale.
"And a watch," I added, my voice shaking but clear. "A gold pocket watch."
Luca went completely still.
The air in the room seemed to freeze.
He slowly turned back to his fiancée.
Vanessa was no longer arrogant. She was trembling.
Because we both knew the truth. Luca’s father had carried a gold pocket watch. It had been missing since the night he was murdered.
"Where did you get that watch?" Luca asked, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper.
Vanessa backed against the counter. Her arrogance was gone. "I didn't—I was trying to fix it, Luca. I was trying to save us."
"Save us from what?"
She opened her mouth, a tear spilling over her lashes.
But before she could speak, Daniel burst through the kitchen doors.
"Boss." Daniel’s face was ashen. "We found Thomas’s car."
Luca didn’t look away from Vanessa. "And my mother?"
"She’s not in it." Daniel held up a small, crumpled piece of paper. "But we found this on the passenger seat."
Luca took it.
He unfolded it.
And as he stared at the paper, the color drained from his face.
It wasn't a ransom note.
It wasn't a threat from a rival family.
It was a child’s drawing in blue crayon.
A drawing of a house with a red door, two stick figures, and a large, crooked sun.
Luca slowly lifted his eyes and looked directly at me.
Because I knew exactly what that drawing was.
May you like
My six-year-old son, Leo, had drawn it yesterday at the kitchen table.
"Emily," Luca said, his voice hollow. "Why was this in the car that took my mother?"
