Chapter 2 - THE SIGNATURE THAT EXPOSED THE BRIDE|
The date on that eviction notice was fourteen days before Luca Moretti's wedding.
Fourteen days before Vanessa Bellini had walked down the aisle in a wedding gown worth more than most people earned in a year.
Fourteen days before she had officially become Vanessa Moretti.
Yet there was her married name, printed beneath an authorization to remove a seventy-nine-year-old woman from her own home.
I watched Luca read the document a second time.
Then a third.
His expression changed from confusion to something that made every person standing near him instinctively step backward.
"Vanessa," he said quietly.
His new wife straightened her diamond necklace.
"Darling, this isn't the place to discuss family finances."
"Whose signature is this?"
"Yours, obviously."
Luca held up the paper.
"Then explain why you signed your name as Vanessa Moretti two weeks before we were married."
The silence that followed was almost unbearable.
Vanessa opened her mouth, then closed it.
For the first time that evening, the woman who had humiliated Aunt Gianna couldn't find an insult to hide behind.
"It's a business form, Luca."
"My assistant prepared the paperwork in advance."
"Your assistant prepared an eviction notice for my aunt?"
"You're making this sound much worse than it is."
Gianna's fragile fingers tightened around mine.
I could feel her trembling.
She had traveled six hours to attend the wedding of the nephew she'd helped raise, and now she was sitting in a ballroom full of strangers while his bride tried to explain why she'd arranged to take away her home.
Luca turned toward the wedding guests.
"Everyone, please excuse us."
Vanessa grabbed his arm.
"You cannot dismiss our guests because of one ridiculous misunderstanding."
Luca looked at her hand.
"Take your hand off me."
She immediately obeyed.
Then he turned toward me.
"Claire, please take Aunt Gianna into the library."
"Bring her whatever she needs."
"She's staying here tonight."
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
"In that dress?"
Luca stopped walking.
He turned around slowly.
"That dress helped keep me alive when I was a child."
"Speak about it disrespectfully again, and you will be the one leaving."
I had worked for Luca Moretti for five years.
I'd seen him furious before.
But this was different.
He wasn't angry because someone had challenged his authority.
He was angry because someone had hurt a person who loved him.
And somehow, that frightened Vanessa more.
I helped Gianna stand.
She leaned heavily on my arm as we crossed the ballroom.
Several guests lowered their eyes in embarrassment.
A woman wearing an enormous diamond brooch whispered something to her husband.
I heard him answer, "That old lady has more class than everyone at this table."
Gianna pretended not to hear.
But I noticed the smallest smile touch her lips.
When we reached the library, I brought her a blanket and a glass of water.
She stared at the fireplace without speaking.
"Mrs. Gianna," I whispered, "are you feeling all right?"
She nodded.
Then she began crying.
"I didn't come here to ruin his wedding, Claire."
"You didn't ruin anything."
"I should have stayed home."
I knelt beside her chair.
"No one should have to hide because somebody else is ashamed of them."
She looked at me for a long moment.
Then she touched my cheek.
"You remind me of his mother."
Before I could answer, the library doors opened.
Luca entered with the eviction notice in his hand.
Behind him came Marco Ruiz, his longtime head of security.
"Marco, find out who owns the company named on this document."
"Bellini Renewal Group," Marco read aloud.
My stomach tightened.
Bellini.
Vanessa's maiden name.
Luca noticed it too.
"Call Evelyn Mercer," he ordered.
"Tell her I need an attorney here tonight."
Marco hesitated.
"Sir, it's your wedding."
Luca looked toward his aunt.
"Exactly."
Then he pulled a chair beside Gianna.
"Auntie, tell me everything Vanessa said to you."
Gianna looked down.
"She called me three weeks ago."
"She said you wanted a modern life, sweetheart."
"She said people from your past would only embarrass you."
Luca closed his eyes.
"Why didn't you call me?"
"I tried."
She reached into her handbag and removed an old cell phone.
"I called your number six times."
"Each time, a woman answered."
"She said you were unavailable."
Luca stared at the phone.
I watched him scroll through the call history.
His jaw tightened.
"Those calls never reached me."
Gianna wiped her eyes.
"Then Vanessa offered me fifty thousand dollars."
"She said I could move into a retirement community and nobody would have to worry about me anymore."
"What did you tell her?"
Gianna straightened her back.
"I told her my brother bought that house for me because he wanted me to grow old somewhere I felt safe."
"And I wasn't selling my memories for fifty thousand dollars."
Luca lowered his head.
For several seconds, he couldn't speak.
Then he whispered, "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."
Gianna brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead.
"You were six years old when I first promised to protect you."
"Love doesn't stop being love because the little boy grows into a powerful man."
Suddenly, my phone vibrated.
The message came from Mrs. Alvarez, Gianna's longtime neighbor, whose number she'd given me earlier.
There was a photograph attached.
Two men were standing outside Gianna's little house on Taylor Street.
A white moving truck was parked beside the sidewalk.
Across its side were the words BELLINI PROPERTY SERVICES.
Underneath the photograph was a single message.
Claire, I don't know what's happening, but they're breaking into Mrs. Moretti's house.
I looked toward Luca.
"Sir, there's something you need to see."
He took my phone.
The moment he saw the photograph, his face hardened.
"Marco, get the car."
Gianna struggled to stand.
"My home?"
Luca reached for her.
"Nobody is taking your home, Auntie."
But as we hurried toward the front entrance, another message arrived.
This time it contained a photograph of Gianna's living room.
Her furniture had been overturned.
Her wooden cabinets stood open.
And on the floor lay a broken picture frame containing a photograph of six-year-old Luca.
Beneath the photograph, someone had written five words.
Tell Luca to stop looking.
That was when I understood something terrifying.
Vanessa wasn't simply trying to get rid of an embarrassing elderly relative.
May you like
Someone was searching Gianna's house for something.
And whatever they wanted was important enough to frighten a woman who had just married Chicago's most dangerous man.
