Chapter 4 - THE EMPTY APARTMENT
"Luca, they have her!" I screamed, dropping the phone. "Someone was in the hallway!"
Luca didn't say a word. He slammed his foot on the accelerator, the massive SUV blowing through a red light and narrowly missing a delivery truck. His jaw was set in stone, his eyes burning with a cold, terrifying focus.
The man who had gently asked me if I was burned by spilled coffee was gone. The Mafia Boss had taken the wheel.
We careened into the parking lot of my mother’s modest apartment building. The tires smoked as Luca slammed on the brakes. He was out of the car with his gun drawn before the vehicle had even completely stopped.
I ran after him, my legs feeling like jelly.
We burst through the glass lobby doors. The sleepy night security guard jumped up from his desk, dropping his magazine.
"Hey, you can't just—" the guard started.
Luca didn't even look at him. He bypassed the elevator and took the concrete stairs two at a time, moving with terrifying speed. I scrambled up behind him, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
We reached the third floor.
My mother’s apartment door, 3B, was wide open.
Luca held up a hand, signaling me to stay back. He swept into the apartment, his weapon raised, clearing the small living room and the kitchen in seconds.
"Clear," he called out, his voice tight.
I ran inside.
The apartment looked perfectly normal. The TV was off. Her knitting basket was sitting by the armchair. Her favorite mug was in the sink.
But her keys and purse were gone.
"Mom!" I cried, running into her bedroom. It was empty. The bedsheets were thrown back, exactly as if she had just gotten up.
I ran back into the living room, tears blinding me. "They took her. Vanessa took her."
Luca was kneeling by the front door, examining the carpet in the hallway. He reached out and touched a small, dark stain near the doorframe.
"Blood," Luca said grimly, rubbing his fingers together. "Not a lot. A scuffle."
He stood up, looking down the long, empty corridor. "Vanessa didn't come here herself. She sent a professional. Someone fast enough to intercept her before the elevator doors closed."
I collapsed onto the cheap sofa, burying my face in my hands. The guilt was suffocating. I should have kept my mouth shut. I shouldn't have said anything about understanding Portuguese. I had tried to protect Luca's father's legacy, and I had sacrificed my own mother to do it.
"This is my fault," I sobbed. "I should have just let her fire me."
Luca walked over and crouched in front of me. He pulled my hands away from my face, his dark eyes intense but surprisingly gentle.
"Don't you ever apologize for telling the truth, Rachel," he said firmly. "Vanessa has been plotting this since before you even stepped foot in my house. You didn't start this war. You just exposed it."
"But they have her," I cried. "What do they want with her?"
"Leverage," Luca said, standing up and pulling his phone from his pocket. "Vanessa knows I can't touch her if she holds a hostage. Especially a hostage with Moretti blood."
He dialed a number and put the phone to his ear.
"Daniel," Luca commanded when the line connected. "I want the Bellini syndicate locked down. Every warehouse, every club, every offshore account. Freeze their assets and put our men on the streets. I want Vanessa Bellini found, and I don't care how many doors you have to kick in to do it."
He hung up, the tension radiating from his broad shoulders.
I looked at the coffee table. Sitting next to my mother's knitting basket was a small, framed photograph. It was a picture of me graduating from high school. My mother was standing next to me, beaming with pride, wearing a simple silver cross necklace she never took off.
I picked up the frame, fresh tears spilling over my cheeks.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my apron pocket.
I jumped, fumbling to pull it out. It was an unknown number.
I looked at Luca. He nodded, gesturing for me to put it on speaker.
I answered the call with a trembling finger. "Hello?"
"She's remarkably quiet for a woman who just got kidnapped," Vanessa's voice purred through the speaker. She sounded completely calm, a terrifying contrast to the panic she had shown in the dining room an hour ago.
"Where is she?" I demanded, my voice breaking. "If you hurt her—"
"I haven't hurt her," Vanessa interrupted smoothly. "Yet. She's resting comfortably in the back of a van. But her comfort is entirely dependent on you, Rachel."
"What do you want?" Luca’s voice boomed toward the phone, hard and unyielding.
Vanessa laughed. It was a cold, hollow sound. "Ah, Luca. Playing the protective big brother already? How touching. But this doesn't concern you."
"She is my family, Vanessa," Luca growled. "If you touch one hair on her head, there isn't a hole deep enough for you to hide in."
"She's a bastard, Luca," Vanessa sneered. "A stain on your father's legacy. But she's a stain that the Commission will find very interesting."
My blood ran cold. The Commission. The governing body of the five families. If they found out Antonio Moretti had broken a marriage alliance with an illegitimate child, the Moretti family would lose their seat at the table.
"Listen closely, little maid," Vanessa said, her voice dropping the playful tone. "Your mother told me you have something that belongs to me. A safety deposit box key. The one Antonio gave her twenty-five years ago."
I frowned, looking at Luca in confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about. We don't have a key."
"Don't lie to me!" Vanessa snapped. "The ghost account wasn't just paying for her groceries. Antonio was hiding the real ledgers. The ones proving my father's embezzlement. Bring me the key, Rachel, or I will send your mother back to you in pieces."
"I don't have it!" I cried.
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"You have two hours," Vanessa said coldly. "Come to the old shipyard on Pier 9. Come alone. If I see Luca, or if I see his men, she dies."
The line went dead.
