Chapter 5 - THE PRICE OF LOYALTY IN CHICAGO
The sound of my phone hitting the marble floor echoed like a gunshot.
Tears immediately flooded my eyes.
My mother’s surgery was tomorrow morning. It was a critical procedure for her heart. I had worked eighty-hour weeks at the Moretti mansion just to save enough for the deposit.
And in one phone call, Vanessa and Michael had destroyed it.
They hadn’t just frozen their own money. They had frozen the household payroll accounts. My money.
I couldn’t breathe. The walls of the dining room felt like they were closing in on me.
Luca noticed my panic.
He didn’t ask what the phone call was about. He didn’t need to. He had heard Michael’s taunt.
Luca turned to his brother, his posture completely rigid.
“You froze the household accounts?”
Michael adjusted his cuffs, trying to look casual, but there was a nervous twitch in his jaw.
“I’m the CFO of the legitimate businesses, Luca. You’re the muscle, but I control the banks. Until we sort out this little family drama, nobody touches a dime. Not you. Not Mom.”
He pointed a finger at me.
“And definitely not the maid.”
Teresa tried to stand up, but her legs gave out. She slumped back into her chair, gasping for air.
“Michael,” she cried, “Hannah’s mother is sick! She needs that money for surgery!”
“That’s not my problem,” Michael sneered. “Hannah should have learned her place before she started digging through false bottoms and reading private letters.”
I felt a tear slip down my cheek.
For eleven months, I had stayed invisible. I had polished silver, ironed shirts, and kept my head down.
But looking at Michael’s smug face, something inside me finally snapped.
“She’s dying,” I whispered.
The entire room fell silent again.
I stepped forward, my fists clenched at my sides. I didn’t care that thirty-six millionaires were staring at me. I didn’t care that I was just the help.
“My mother is dying,” I said, my voice rising. “I earned every single penny of that money. You didn’t give it to me. I worked for it.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “Call a charity, sweetheart.”
Before Michael could blink, Luca crossed the space between them and backhanded his brother across the face.
The crack of skin against skin was deafening.
Michael stumbled backward, crashing into a serving cart. Silver trays and crystal bowls shattered onto the floor.
Guests gasped and backed away.
Blood immediately pooled at the corner of Michael’s mouth.
Luca stood over him, his chest heaving, his eyes black with rage.
“Never disrespect the people who work in this house,” Luca growled. “Dad taught us better than that.”
Michael spat blood onto the marble.
“Dad’s dead! And Uncle Vincent is already moving his men into the South Side! You think hitting me changes anything? By tomorrow morning, you won’t have a business left!”
Luca didn’t hit him again.
He just pulled a sleek black cell phone from his suit jacket.
He dialed a number and put it on speaker.
Two rings. Then a gruff voice answered.
“Boss.”
“Marcus,” Luca said calmly. “I need a favor.”
“Anything.”
“Hannah Collins’s mother is at Chicago General. Her account was just frozen. I want you to walk into the billing department right now. Pay the entire balance in cash. VIP wing. Best surgeons they have.”
My jaw dropped.
“Mr. Moretti, no—” I started.
Luca held up a hand to silence me.
“Done,” Marcus said on the phone. “Anything else?”
Luca looked down at Michael.
“Yeah. Cancel Michael’s access to the warehouse. Strip his security clearance. If he steps foot on any of our properties, break his legs.”
Michael’s eyes widened in sheer terror.
“Luca, you can’t do that! Uncle Vincent will slaughter you!”
Luca hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.
He turned to me.
“Your mother’s surgery is paid for, Hannah. It’s handled.”
I broke down crying. I covered my face with my hands, dropping to my knees. The relief was so absolute, so overwhelming, that my legs simply couldn’t hold me up.
Teresa knelt beside me, wrapping her frail arms around my shoulders.
“Thank you,” I sobbed. “Thank you, Mr. Moretti.”
“You don’t work as a maid anymore, Hannah,” Luca said quietly.
I looked up, confused.
“From tonight on, you are my mother’s personal aide. Your salary is doubled. And nobody in this family will ever speak down to you again.”
He looked around the room, making eye contact with every single wealthy guest.
“Dinner is over,” Luca announced.
The guests didn’t need to be told twice. They grabbed their coats and rushed toward the door, desperate to escape the impending mafia war.
Within five minutes, the massive dining room was empty, save for Luca, Teresa, Michael, and me.
Michael pulled himself up from the floor, wiping the blood from his chin.
He glared at Luca.
“You think you won tonight?” Michael hissed. “You think paying off a maid makes you the good guy? Uncle Vincent wrote those letters. He forged Dad’s handwriting. Do you know why?”
Luca didn’t answer.
“Because he needed Mom to think everything was fine while he quietly bought off the captains. Vincent didn’t just forge letters, Luca. He forged the new will.”
Teresa gasped.
“The will?” she whispered.
Michael smiled, a bloody, wicked grin.
“That silver key on the table? The one with 402 on it?”
Luca looked at the key.
“It doesn’t open a bank box,” Michael laughed. “It opens Dad’s old desk in his private study. The one you never unlocked after he died. Go ahead, Luca. Go open it. Read the real will.”
Michael turned and limped toward the door.
“Enjoy your empty house, brother. By tomorrow, Vincent will own it all.”
He walked out into the storm.
The front door slammed shut.
The mansion was completely silent again.
Luca stood by the table, staring at the silver key.
Teresa looked at her son, terrified.
“Luca… your father locked that desk himself the night before he died. He told me never to let anyone open it unless it was you.”
Luca slowly picked up the tarnished key.
He looked at me.
“Hannah,” he said softly.
May you like
“Yes?”
“Come with me. We’re going to my father’s study.”
