Chapter 4 - SECRETS IN THE BELLINI VAULT
|
Two hours past midnight, the Moretti estate was quiet, but nobody was sleeping.
The massive wrought-iron gates at the end of the long driveway had been locked and reinforced.
Armed guards patrolled the perimeter with Belgian Malinois attack dogs.
I stood in the vast commercial kitchen, brewing fresh chamomile tea for Antonio.
My hands were still unsteady as I placed the porcelain cups onto a silver tray.
I had tried to take a taxi home, but Luca had flatly refused to let me leave the property.
He insisted that the estate was the only secure place in Cook County tonight.
Just as I picked up the tray, the heavy kitchen door swung open.
Luca walked in, having removed his formal tie and unbuttoned his collar.
A dark tribal tattoo curled gracefully up his neck, disappearing beneath his sharp jawline.
He looked exhausted, but his posture remained razor-sharp.
“Is that for my father?” he asked, eyeing the steaming teapot.
“Yes, sir,” I replied instinctively.
Luca frowned slightly.
“Call me Luca.”
“I don’t think that’s appropriate, Mr. Moretti,” I murmured.
“You saved my father from being committed to an asylum by sunrise,” Luca said bluntly.
“You have earned the right to use my name.”
He reached out and took the heavy tray from my hands effortlessly.
“Walk with me.”
I followed him through the quiet, wood-paneled corridors of the East Wing.
“What did Vanessa say in the holding room?” I dared to ask, my curiosity overpowering my fear.
Luca’s expression darkened in the dim corridor lighting.
“She didn’t have a choice but to talk once Daniel pulled her phone records.”
He pushed open the heavy oak door leading into the grand library.
Antonio was seated near the roaring fireplace, wrapped in a dark cashmere blanket.
On the mahogany desk beside him lay a stack of thick financial ledgers and printed offshore wire transfers.
“The Bellini family has been bankrupt for three years,” Luca explained, placing the tray on the side table.
Antonio scoffed softly, shaking his silver head.
“Marco lost sixty million dollars on illegal shipping ventures in South America.”
“They needed the Moretti wealth to save their skins,” Luca added, pouring a cup of tea for his father.
“The marriage was supposed to merge our banking lines.”
“But Marco knew Antonio would never sign over control of the trusts while he was sound of mind.”
I gasped, realizing the full scope of their calculated wickedness.
“So Vanessa was going to declare Antonio mentally unfit?”
“Exactly,” Luca said, handing a cup to me before pouring one for himself.
“She had a judge on Marco’s payroll ready to grant her power of attorney on Monday morning.”
“They were going to drain our family foundations and transfer our European holdings into dummy accounts.”
Antonio took a sip of his tea and sighed with contentment.
“Delicious, as always, Emma.”
“Thank you, Mr. Antonio.”
Suddenly, Luca’s encrypted smartphone buzzed violently on the desk.
The screen flashed red with an urgent security alert.
Luca tapped the screen and brought the phone to his ear.
“Speak.”
His face shifted from grim exhaustion to stone-cold rage within a fraction of a second.
“How many cars?” Luca demanded into the receiver.
The line crackled with the distant, unmistakable sound of gunfire.
“Hold the stairwell!” Luca shouted into the phone.
“I am ten minutes away!”
He hung up and slammed the phone into his jacket pocket.
My heart leaped into my throat.
“Luca?” I gasped.
“What happened?”
May you like
Luca looked directly into my terrified eyes.
“Marco Bellini’s men just breached your mother’s apartment building on Ashland.”
