Chapter 4 - THE RECEIPT FOR A ONE-WAY TICKET
Luca stared at the small blue velvet bag resting among the splintered wood.
For a moment, he didn’t move.
The storm outside raged harder, a flash of lightning illuminating the dining room and casting long, dark shadows across the terrified faces of the guests.
Vanessa was still sobbing into her hands, the repurposed gold locket sitting abandoned on the table.
But Luca’s attention was entirely on his brother.
“What is this, Michael?” Luca asked.
“Open it,” Michael challenged, crossing his arms. “You think Dad was some kind of saint? You think he spent his final days writing poetry and begging for his prodigal son to return?”
Luca reached out and picked up the bag.
It was heavy.
He pulled the drawstrings open and turned it upside down.
Three items spilled onto the white tablecloth.
A silver key.
A thick stack of hundred-dollar bills wrapped in a rubber band.
And a crumpled, faded piece of paper.
Luca ignored the money and the key. He picked up the paper and slowly unfolded it.
I stood close enough to see what it was.
It wasn’t a letter.
It was a receipt.
An airline ticket receipt from four years ago.
A one-way ticket to Palermo, Italy.
In the name of Lorenzo Moretti.
Luca’s brow furrowed. “A flight to Sicily? Why would Dad book a one-way ticket to Italy the week he died?”
“Look at the date, genius,” Michael spat.
Luca read the date printed at the top of the receipt.
His breath hitched.
The date of the flight was exactly one day after his father passed away.
“He was leaving,” Michael said, his voice dripping with venom. “Your perfect, loving father was packing his bags to abandon this family. To abandon his empire. To abandon his sick wife.”
Teresa gasped. “No! Lorenzo would never leave me!”
“He was running away!” Michael yelled, pointing at the receipt. “He liquidated two million dollars from the family accounts. He hid it in offshore trusts. And he bought a one-way ticket to disappear.”
Michael took a step closer to Luca, his eyes wild.
“I found out, Luca. I caught him. I confronted him the night he died. He was destroying everything we built. I had to protect this family!”
Luca stared at the receipt, shaking his head.
“He wouldn’t run. Dad built the Chicago outfit from nothing. He would never abandon it.”
“He was weak!” Michael shouted. “His mind was gone! He was a liability!”
Luca looked at the silver key resting on the table.
He picked it up.
It was old, tarnished, with the number 402 engraved on the head.
“What is this key for?” Luca asked quietly.
Michael sneered. “A safety deposit box. Probably where he hid the stolen money. I searched his office for months trying to find that key. I guess the old bastard hid it in his letter box.”
Luca looked at his mother.
Teresa was pale, clutching her chest. She looked like she was about to faint.
I immediately wrapped my arm around her shoulders, guiding her gently back into her chair.
“Mrs. Moretti, breathe,” I whispered.
Vanessa looked up, sensing an opening.
“Luca, listen to Michael,” she pleaded, wiping her mascara. “Your father was stealing from the family. Michael was just trying to keep the business together. We both were.”
Luca slowly turned toward his fiancée.
“You helped him?”
Vanessa swallowed hard. “I… Michael promised me that if I kept an eye on you… if I became your wife… he would make sure I was taken care of when he took over the family.”
A collective gasp echoed through the guests.
She had just confessed.
In front of thirty-six witnesses, Vanessa admitted she was part of a coup to take over the Moretti empire.
Luca didn’t yell.
He just nodded slowly, the ultimate betrayal settling over him like a heavy blanket.
“Take off the ring, Vanessa.”
Vanessa froze. “Luca, please—”
“Take it off,” he said, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. “Leave the ring on the table. Walk out the front door. And if I ever see you in Chicago again, you won’t have to worry about a wedding.”
Vanessa burst into fresh tears.
Her fingers shook as she pulled the massive diamond off her left hand. She placed it next to the melted gold watch.
Without looking at anyone, she turned and ran out of the dining room.
The heavy doors clicked shut behind her.
Now, it was just the family. And me. And thirty-six silent witnesses.
Luca looked back at his brother.
“You orchestrated all of this,” Luca said. “You hid the letters. You planted Vanessa. You wanted the business.”
Michael stood tall. “I deserved the business. You ran away for fourteen years! I stayed! I wiped his mouth when he drooled! I paid off the cops! I ran the streets while you were hiding in New York playing businessman!”
“Then why didn’t he give it to you?” Luca asked quietly.
Michael’s face twisted in rage.
“Because he was obsessed with you! Even when he was dying, all he talked about was Luca! Luca is the true heir! Luca is the only one who can lead!”
Michael kicked a chair violently.
“He booked that ticket to Italy to find you, Luca! He was going to bring you back and hand you the crown!”
Luca looked at the receipt again.
He realized Michael was right.
His father wasn’t running away. He was coming to find him.
But then, Luca looked at the handwriting on the eighteenth envelope.
He looked at the seventeen letters.
“If Dad was paralyzed…” Luca said slowly. “If he couldn’t write…”
He looked directly into Michael’s eyes.
“Who forged the letters?”
Michael smirked.
“Does it matter? They kept Mom quiet. They gave her hope. It was a mercy.”
Teresa suddenly gripped my arm so hard her nails dug into my skin.
“Hannah,” the old woman whispered frantically. “The handwriting.”
I looked at her. “What about it?”
“It wasn’t Michael’s,” Teresa breathed. “And it wasn’t Lorenzo’s.”
Luca heard her. He stepped closer. “Mom, what are you talking about?”
Teresa looked up, her eyes wide with a new, horrifying realization.
“Your father had a brother, Luca. Your Uncle Vincent.”
Luca’s expression hardened immediately. “Uncle Vincent has been exiled from this family for twenty years.”
“Vincent’s handwriting,” Teresa whispered, “is identical to your father’s.”
The room went completely still.
Luca slowly looked at Michael.
Michael wasn’t smiling anymore.
“You brought Uncle Vincent back into the city?” Luca asked, his voice shaking with absolute fury. “You partnered with the man who tried to kill our father?”
Before Michael could answer, my cell phone buzzed violently in my apron pocket.
It was loud. Intrusive.
In the dead silence of the room, everyone looked at me.
I didn’t want to answer it. But the caller ID flashed brightly through the fabric.
It was the hospital where my mother was recovering.
“Answer it,” Luca commanded.
My hands shook as I pulled it out and pressed it to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Hannah Collins?” a nurse’s voice asked.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry to call so late, but we have a problem. Your mother’s medical account has just been completely drained. The payment for her surgery tomorrow was reversed.”
My heart stopped.
“What? No, that’s impossible. I deposited the check yesterday.”
“The check was from a joint account,” the nurse explained. “Someone named Vanessa Bellini just authorized a freeze on all assets tied to that routing number. If you can’t pay by midnight, we have to cancel the surgery.”
The phone slipped from my hand.
It hit the marble floor.
I looked up.
May you like
Michael was smiling again.
“Like I said, Luca,” Michael whispered. “I run the streets. And I run the money.”
