Chapter 2 - THE EMPTY SEAT
The rain continued to fall heavily in the service courtyard.
Luca Moretti didn't move. He stood perfectly still, the cold water soaking into the shoulders of his tailored suit.
"What address?" Luca asked, his voice completely devoid of emotion.
It was the tone he used right before someone in his organization simply disappeared.
Daniel swallowed hard, pulling up the security log on his phone. "The driver was instructed to take her to 4402 West Elm. It’s an abandoned warehouse district, Boss. There are no medical facilities anywhere near there."
Luca’s jaw clenched so tightly a muscle ticked near his ear.
"Mobilize," Luca ordered softly.
"Yes, Boss," Daniel replied, instantly barking orders into his radio. "We need three SUVs at the front gate right now. Heavily armed. Track the GPS on Vanessa's driver."
Luca didn't wait. He sprinted back through the kitchen doors, leaving Margaret with one of the security guards.
He marched into the dining room.
The engagement dinner was still in full swing. Guests were laughing, drinking expensive champagne, completely unaware that the world was burning around them.
Vanessa was sitting at the head of the table, smiling as a server poured her another glass of wine.
Luca walked directly up to her.
He didn't yell. He didn't cause a scene. He leaned down, placing his hands flat on the table, and spoke just loud enough for her to hear.
"Where is my mother?"
Vanessa’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but she recovered quickly, placing her manicured hand over his.
"Darling, Teresa wasn't feeling well," Vanessa said smoothly. "She complained of a terrible migraine right before dessert. I asked Thomas to drive her to the clinic downtown so she could rest. I was just about to tell you."
Luca stared at her. He didn't pull his hand away, but his eyes were entirely empty of warmth.
"Which clinic?" Luca asked.
"The one on Michigan Avenue," Vanessa replied easily, sipping her wine. "Don't worry, darling. She's in good hands."
"Daniel just pinged Thomas's car," Luca stated, his voice dropping into a lethal whisper. "He's not on Michigan Avenue. He's heading to the warehouse district on West Elm."
Vanessa’s face went perfectly pale. The glass of wine in her hand trembled.
"I... I don't know what you mean," she stammered, looking frantically at the guests sitting nearby, hoping someone would interrupt.
"Get up," Luca commanded.
"Luca, we have guests—"
"I said, get up."
The cold, absolute authority in his voice made the entire table fall silent. Every head turned toward them.
Vanessa slowly pushed her chair back, her red silk gown rustling loudly in the quiet room.
Luca grabbed her arm, his grip like a vice, and pulled her out of the dining room into the grand foyer.
"You're hurting me!" Vanessa hissed, trying to wrench her arm free.
"You locked a sixty-year-old caterer in a freezing storage shed," Luca growled, shoving her against the marble wall near the front doors. "You tried to poison my mother with food you knew she was allergic to. And when that failed, you sent her to an abandoned warehouse with your driver."
Vanessa’s eyes widened in genuine panic. She realized the caterer had been found. Her entire plan was unraveling in front of her.
"I was trying to help you!" Vanessa cried, tears springing to her eyes. "Your mother hates me, Luca! She was going to ruin the wedding! She told me she was going to demand you sign a prenup that cuts me out entirely!"
"So you decided to murder her?" Luca asked, his voice shaking with a terrifying, contained rage.
"I wasn't going to murder her!" Vanessa shrieked, desperation clawing at her throat. "I just told Thomas to take her somewhere quiet so she couldn't make a scene tonight! I wanted to scare her a little, that's all!"
"Where is she, Vanessa?" Luca roared, slamming his fist into the wall inches from her head.
"I don't know!" she sobbed, sliding down the wall. "I swear to God, I just told him to drop her off and leave her there for a few hours!"
The front doors burst open. Daniel rushed inside, his face grim.
"Boss," Daniel said urgently. "We have a problem."
"What is it?" Luca demanded, letting go of Vanessa.
"We tracked the GPS on Thomas's car," Daniel reported, holding up his tablet. "It stopped moving five minutes ago. But it's not at the warehouse."
Luca’s heart hammered against his ribs. "Where is it?"
"It’s parked at the bottom of the river near the Navy Pier."
The color drained completely from Luca’s face.
"The river?" Luca whispered.
"The tracker shows the car submerged," Daniel confirmed, his voice tight. "Boss... we don't know if your mother was still inside."
Luca turned back to Vanessa, who was sitting on the marble floor, staring at Daniel in absolute horror.
"I didn't tell him to do that," Vanessa whispered, shaking her head frantically. "I swear, Luca. I just wanted to scare her."
"Lock her in the wine cellar," Luca ordered Daniel, his voice completely devoid of mercy. "Do not let her out. Do not let her make a phone call."
"Luca, please!" Vanessa screamed as two massive security guards grabbed her by the arms, dragging her away. "I didn't want her dead!"
Luca didn't listen. He turned and sprinted toward the front doors, drawing the heavy pistol from his shoulder holster as he ran to the waiting SUVs.
I was standing at the top of the grand staircase, watching the entire nightmare unfold.
Dr. Harris had just finished wrapping my ribs tightly with medical tape. He had told me two ribs were cracked from where Vanessa had shoved me against the concrete stairs while I was trying to unlock the storage shed.
I was in agony, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the terror I felt watching Luca leave.
I carefully walked down the stairs, clutching the banister.
The mansion was in total chaos. Guests were hastily leaving, murmuring in shocked whispers. Security guards were running through the halls, securing the perimeter.
I walked into the kitchen, looking for Mrs. Carter, the head housekeeper.
I found her standing near the back door, talking rapidly on her cell phone. Her face was pale.
She hung up when she saw me.
"Emily," Mrs. Carter breathed, rushing over to me. "Are you alright? The doctor said your ribs are cracked."
"I'm fine," I lied, wincing as I took a breath. "Mrs. Carter, what is happening? I heard Daniel say Mrs. Moretti's car was in the river."
Mrs. Carter’s eyes filled with tears. She had worked for the Moretti family for thirty years. Teresa Moretti wasn't just her boss; she was her friend.
"They don't know if she survived," Mrs. Carter whispered, her voice breaking. "Luca is on his way there now."
My stomach turned. Teresa Moretti was a sharp, kind woman who always made sure the staff was treated well. The thought of her drowning in the back of a car was horrifying.
"Who is Thomas?" I asked, trying to piece together Vanessa's plan. "I've only seen him a few times."
"He's Vanessa's personal driver," Mrs. Carter explained, wiping her eyes. "He came with her when she moved in six months ago. Nasty piece of work. Never speaks to the staff."
I frowned, thinking back to the events of the afternoon.
"Mrs. Carter," I said slowly, a memory clicking into place. "When I was in the courtyard... trying to open the shed... Thomas wasn't wearing his driver's uniform."
Mrs. Carter looked confused. "What do you mean?"
"He was wearing mechanics coveralls," I recalled, the details suddenly coming into sharp focus. "He was working on Mrs. Moretti's personal town car. The one she refuses to let anyone else drive."
Mrs. Carter froze.
"Why would Thomas be working on Teresa's car?" she asked, her voice dropping to a terrified whisper. "Teresa always takes it to the dealership."
"Because he wasn't fixing it," a deep, raspy voice said from the doorway.
We both jumped.
Standing in the kitchen, leaning heavily against the doorframe, was Thomas.
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He was soaking wet, his expensive suit ruined, dripping river water onto the pristine tile floor. And in his hand, he held a suppressed pistol, aimed directly at us.
"He was cutting the brakes," Thomas smiled, a cold, empty expression. "Vanessa really is an idiot. She thought I was just going to scare the old woman. But her father pays much better for permanent solutions."
