Chapter 2 - THE LOCKED GATES
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The ballroom air instantly turned as cold as a winter grave.
Nobody dared to breathe as eighty wealthy socialites stared at the towering man in the black tuxedo.
Luca lowered his cell phone, his knuckles turning stark white against the dark glass screen.
His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, burned with an unbridled, volcanic fury.
Vanessa tried to laugh, but the sound caught in her throat like a dry bone.
“Luca, darling, whoever that lawyer is on the phone must be mistaken,” she stammered, smoothing down the diamond-encrusted silk of her bridal gown.
“Banks make clerical errors all the time.”
Luca did not blink.
He did not even look at her face.
Instead, he raised two fingers toward the heavy mahogany double doors at the far end of the grand hall.
Marco, his personal head of security and deadliest enforcer, moved instantly without needing a spoken order.
The heavy brass latches clicked shut with the terrifying finality of a jail cell.
Four armed guards stepped in front of every exit, their hands resting deliberately beneath their tailored jackets.
“Nobody leaves this room,” Luca announced, his voice vibrating through the crystal chandeliers above.
Several women in evening gowns gasped, while prominent business tycoons shifted nervously in their velvet seats.
Rosa Moretti remained trembling in her gilded wheelchair, clutching my apron with frail, paper-thin fingers.
“Claire,” the old woman whispered softly, her voice trembling with an agonizing heartbreak.
“Did I ruin his special day?”
“Did I make my boy angry?”
Tears pricked my eyes as I knelt right beside her, placing my warm hands over her freezing palms.
“No, Mrs. Moretti,” I whispered back so only she could hear.
“You did nothing wrong.”
“You are the bravest mother in this city.”
Luca walked slowly toward his bride, his polished shoes clicking against the Italian marble floor like a countdown timer.
Vanessa stepped backward until the edge of the towering white wedding cake blocked her path.
“Luca, you are humiliating me in front of Chicago’s highest society,” she hissed, her polished facade beginning to crack at the edges.
“We just took our vows an hour ago.”
“You swore to cherish and honor me before God and our families.”
“I swore to honor a wife, not a leech who feeds on my elderly mother,” Luca responded, stopping inches from her face.
His imposing height cast a suffocating shadow over her delicate frame.
He tapped the speakerphone button on his mobile device once more.
“Dominic,” Luca said to the family estate attorney on the line.
“Tell me the exact branch where that money was withdrawn.”
The attorney’s voice crackled through the hall with terrifying clarity.
“The Michigan Avenue private vault division, sir.”
“The entire liquid sum of one hundred and twenty million dollars was transferred into bearer bonds and offshore routing accounts.”
“The woman presenting herself as your mother carried Rosa Moretti’s original passport, social security card, and birth certificate.”
Rosa let out a soft cry and touched her chest.
“My safe box,” she whispered, looking at Luca with wide, terrified brown eyes.
“Luca, my safe box in my bedroom closet.”
“The little silver key was on my nightstand yesterday morning.”
“When I woke up from my afternoon nap, the key was gone.”
Luca turned his predatory gaze toward Vanessa.
“Where is your sister, Vanessa?”
Vanessa swallowed hard, her manicured nails digging into the satin of her gown.
“Mia went home early with a migraine headache.”
“You know how delicate her health is.”
“That is a lie,” I spoke up, stepping forward despite the sudden wave of fear rushing through my veins.
Vanessa whipped her head toward me, her eyes flaring with venomous hatred.
“Shut your mouth, you worthless maid!”
“You clean our toilets and sweep our floors!”
“You do not speak to your betters!”
“Let her speak,” Luca commanded, his voice dropping into a register that made even his armed guards stand rigid.
“Claire has taken care of my mother for five years without a single complaint.”
“If she has something to say, the entire room will listen.”
I took a deep breath, steadying my trembling hands.
“Mr. Moretti, Mia didn’t go home with a headache,” I said clearly.
“Forty-five minutes ago, while the wedding ceremony was ending in the garden, I saw Mia in the servant hallway.”
“She was wearing a long gray wig, an oversized floral coat, and pushing a walker toward the service elevator.”
“I thought it was strange, but when I called out to ask if she needed help, she ran toward the underground parking garage.”
Vanessa’s face lost every remaining ounce of color.
Luca pulled out his personal radio and pressed the transmitter button.
“Security team three, intercept vehicle exiting garage basement B.”
The radio hissed with static before a guard replied.
“Boss, the black town car blew through the lower gate four minutes ago.”
“We have a visual on the driver.”
“It’s Mia Bellini, and she has three heavy steel cases in the back seat.”
Luca closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, inhaling deeply.
When he opened them, the cold fury had transformed into absolute, lethal calm.
“Call the city harbor, the private airfields, and the interstate patrol,” Luca ordered into the radio.
May you like
“Cut off every single exit out of Illinois.”
“Nobody steals from Rosa Moretti and lives to spend a single dime.”
