Chapter 3 - Blood and Betrayal
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Luca led us up the sweeping grand staircase toward the family's private residential wing.
This was an area of the estate that staff were forbidden to enter on pain of immediate termination.
The walls were lined with oil paintings of stern men and elegant women who had ruled Chicago's underworld for a century.
Oliver walked between us, his small shoes sinking into the plush charcoal-colored carpeting.
He was still clutching the silver watch, refusing to let it go.
Luca brought us into a vast library lined with floor-to-ceiling mahogany shelves and a crackling fireplace.
A leather sofa sat before the hearth, looking warm and inviting compared to the chilly basement staff quarters.
"Sit down, please," Luca said gently.
I helped Oliver climb onto the soft leather cushion.
He looked around the enormous room with wide, tired eyes.
"Mommy, are we in trouble?" Oliver asked in a tiny whisper.
"No, sweetheart," I replied, smoothing his unruly dark curls that were identical to his father's. "We aren't in trouble."
Luca walked over to a heavy desk, picked up a crystal decanter, and poured two fingers of amber whiskey.
His hands, covered in intricate dark tattoos, were trembling slightly.
He tossed back the drink in one swallow.
Then he pulled a chair directly in front of the sofa and sat down, leaning his forearms on his knees.
"Tell me everything, Claire," Luca said. "Start from the day you met him."
I took a deep breath, trying to steady the pounding in my chest.
"I met him six years ago at a diner near the rail yards," I began softly. "He introduced himself as Matt Walker."
Luca smiled faintly, a painful ghost of a smile.
"Walker was our mother's maiden name."
"He was working as a carpenter, building wooden furniture by hand," I continued. "He had calluses on his palms and no money in his pocket, but he was the kindest man I'd ever known."
Luca listened in complete stillness, hanging onto every word.
"He never talked about his past," I said. "He only told me that he had left a world filled with monsters so he could live in the light."
A tear escaped Luca's eye, though he didn't wipe it away.
"When Oliver was born, Matt wept like a baby," I remembered, feeling the warmth of those precious memories. "He held our son and swore on his life that Oliver would never know violence."
Luca looked over at Oliver, who had rested his head on my lap, exhausted from the evening's terror.
"And then three years ago?" Luca prompted, his jaw tightening.
"One rainy Tuesday in November, I went to the grocery store," I said, my voice choking with grief. "When I came home, Matt was gone."
"No note?" Luca asked.
"Only his silver watch left on the kitchen counter, resting on a torn piece of paper," I answered.
"What did the note say?"
"It said: 'Forgive me. Take Oliver and run. If I stay, they will kill you both.'"
Luca closed his eyes, his breathing heavy and ragged.
"For three years, I believed he got involved with bad people or simply decided family life was too hard," I confessed. "I struggled every single day to feed Oliver."
"Why did you come to work here, Claire?" Luca asked, opening his dark eyes.
"Because the agency assigned me here eight months ago," I replied truthfully. "I knew the name Moretti was connected to Matt's past because of the watch's engraving, but I was terrified to ask."
"I was afraid that if you knew Oliver existed, you would take him away from me."
Luca shook his head slowly.
"I would never take a boy from a mother who loved him like this."
Before Luca could say another word, the heavy wooden library doors opened.
A distinguished man in a dark gray suit carrying a black medical bag entered the room.
"You called for me, Luca?" the man asked.
Luca stood up immediately.
"Dr. Evans. Thank you for coming so quickly."
Luca looked down at Oliver.
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"I need an expedited DNA swab right now."
"I want medical proof of what my heart already knows."
