Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO ESCAPED INTO THE NIGHT|
Vanessa Moretti was halfway through the front doors when Luca shouted her name.
“VANESSA, STOP!”
His voice shook the crystal chandelier above our heads.
But his wife didn't turn around.
She grabbed her expensive white coat from the entrance hall and stumbled toward the driveway.
For one terrible second, I thought Luca would follow her.
Instead, Olivia made a small, frightened sound behind me.
“Claire, something's wrong.”
I turned and saw her clutching the edge of the dining table.
Her face had gone completely white, and her other hand pressed desperately against her pregnant stomach.
“Luca,” I cried.
He was beside his sister before I finished speaking.
Olivia tried to straighten herself, but another wave of pain forced her forward.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
Those two words seemed to hurt Luca more than anything Vanessa had said that evening.
“Don't apologize,” he told her.
Then he looked directly at me.
“Claire, call an ambulance.”
I grabbed my phone while Luca carefully lifted Olivia into his arms.
Outside, an engine roared to life.
Through the tall dining room windows, I saw Vanessa's black Mercedes speeding toward the gates.
Luca heard it, too.
But he didn't look away from his sister.
“Let her go,” he told the security guard standing nearby.
Then his voice hardened.
“Right now, Olivia is the only person who matters.”
I had worked for Luca Moretti for five years, and I had never heard him sound so frightened.
By the time the ambulance arrived, Olivia was trembling uncontrollably.
The paramedics checked her blood pressure, attached a portable monitor, and asked whether she had experienced similar symptoms earlier.
She nodded weakly.
“I was in the hospital yesterday.”
One paramedic looked at the discharge documents I handed him.
His expression changed immediately.
“Why was she discharged if the physician recommended continued monitoring?”
Nobody answered.
Luca's jaw tightened.
“That's exactly what we're going to find out.”
He climbed into the ambulance beside his sister.
I followed in one of the family cars, watching Chicago's winter streets disappear beneath the headlights.
I prayed the entire journey.
Not for Luca.
Not for Vanessa to be caught.
I prayed for Olivia and the baby girl who had already lost her father before taking her first breath.
At San Marco General Hospital, the emergency department was bright, crowded, and painfully cold.
A physician named Dr. Priya Shah examined Olivia immediately.
After reviewing her symptoms and the earlier discharge notes, she ordered continuous fetal monitoring and additional tests.
“We need to evaluate both mother and baby carefully,” she explained.
“The previous concerns cannot simply be dismissed.”
Luca stood beside the examination bed.
“Tell me whether my niece is going to survive.”
Dr. Shah looked him directly in the eyes.
“We're doing everything necessary to protect them, but I won't promise an outcome before we have the results.”
I watched Luca lower his head.
For the first time, Chicago's most feared man had absolutely no control over what happened next.
A nurse approached us twenty minutes later.
Her name badge read ELENA MORALES.
She looked about forty, with tired eyes and the kind of calm voice that made frightened people feel less alone.
“Mr. Moretti, I need to speak with you privately.”
Luca immediately shook his head.
“Whatever you have to say, Claire can hear.”
The nurse hesitated.
Then she looked toward Olivia.
“Miss Moretti, do you consent to your brother and Claire receiving information about your medical care?”
Olivia nodded.
“Yes, please.”
Elena documented her permission before continuing.
“Yesterday, someone entered a restriction into our patient communication system preventing staff from contacting your brother.”
Luca held up the discharge papers.
“I already know about the forged signature.”
Elena swallowed.
“Sir, the signature isn't the only problem.”
She led us into a small consultation room near the nurses' station.
There, she placed a printed record of telephone activity on the table.
Six calls had been made from Olivia's hospital unit to the contact number registered for Luca Moretti.
Every call had been marked as answered or redirected.
Luca studied the numbers.
“That's my private office line.”
I leaned forward.
“But nobody told you Olivia was hospitalized.”
“No,” he answered.
Elena pointed to another entry.
“At 3:17 yesterday afternoon, a man called the hospital from that same office number.”
She paused.
“He identified himself as Mr. Moretti's authorized representative and instructed us not to contact the family again.”
Luca's expression darkened.
“Who was he?”
“We don't have his name recorded correctly,” Elena admitted.
“But one of our nurses remembers the conversation.”
She opened another page.
According to the nurse's written account, the man had said Olivia was emotionally unstable and that her brother would no longer be responsible for her affairs.
He had also claimed that Vanessa Moretti was handling all future decisions.
I felt sick.
Olivia had been calling for help while someone inside her own brother's office was helping to silence her.
“Can you identify the voice?” Luca asked.
Elena shook her head.
“Not yet, but the hospital is preserving the call records while our compliance department investigates.”
She handed him the final page.
It was an electronic access report showing who had entered the hospital's restricted patient information system.
Most entries belonged to hospital employees.
But one outside contact appeared beside the disputed family authorization.
I recognized the name immediately.
Daniel Voss.
Luca's chief of staff.
The man who had managed his personal correspondence, telephone calls, and private appointments for nearly eight years.
Luca stared at the page for a long moment.
Then he looked at me.
“Claire, Daniel told me Olivia hadn't contacted the office in months.”
A cold realization spread through my chest.
Vanessa might have started this nightmare.
May you like
But she hadn't been working alone.
And somewhere in Chicago, the man Luca trusted with his closest family secrets was still holding the keys to his office.
