Chapter 6 - THE BLOOD-STAINED DRESS
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The breath left my lungs in a sharp, painful gasp as I stared at the shredded blue silk resting inside the crate.
The delicate lace around the neckline was torn to pieces, stained with dark, coagulated blood that smelled faintly of copper and rot.
"Whose blood is that?" I whispered, my hand flying to my mouth in horror.
Luca tossed the crimson-inked note onto his desk, his jaw ticking with suppressed violence.
"It's animal blood," Luca said coldly, inspecting his fingertips before wiping them on a cloth.
"A scare tactic."
"Lorenzo’s style has always been childish, theatrical, and cowardly."
"How did they get Mama's dress?" Michael’s voice sliced through the tension as he strode into the room, his eyes instantly locking onto the wooden box.
He had two armed guards behind him, both looking tense and exhausted from an overnight sweep of the perimeter.
Luca didn't turn around.
"Someone took it from the laundry room before dawn."
The room fell into an icy, suffocating silence.
The implications of that single sentence hit me like a bucket of freezing water.
The Moretti estate was an impenetrable fortress, surrounded by twelve-foot stone walls, razor wire, and round-the-clock armed patrols.
If someone had stolen Teresa’s dress from inside the manor’s private laundry room, it meant only one terrifying thing.
There was a traitor inside the house.
"Lock down every exit," Michael ordered the guards, his voice trembling with sheer fury.
"Round up every maid, groundskeeper, and kitchen worker in the cellar."
"I want their phones checked, their bank accounts audited, and their lockers torn apart."
"No," Luca said firmly, raising a commanding hand.
Michael stopped, looking at his older brother in utter disbelief.
"Luca! Someone walked into our home while Mama was sleeping upstairs and took her clothes to threaten her life!"
"If you start dragging staff into the basement, the mole will destroy whatever evidence they have left," Luca reasoned calmly.
"Whoever took that dress thinks they were clever."
"They think they've rattled us."
"Let them believe it."
Luca walked back to his desk, picked up the note, and held it over an antique silver ashtray.
With a flick of his gold lighter, the corner of the paper caught fire, curling into black ash that floated upward toward the high ceiling.
"Hannah," Luca spoke, watching the embers die.
"Yes, Mr. Moretti?"
"Did anyone enter the west wing after you took my mother to bed last night?"
I closed my eyes, forcing my memory to replay every second of the previous evening.
"I escorted Mrs. Moretti to her room at approximately eleven-fifteen," I recounted carefully.
"I drew her bath, made sure her fire was burning, and stayed until she fell asleep around midnight."
"When I walked down the back stairs toward the laundry chute, I saw Elena."
Luca’s eyes narrowed into sharp slits.
"Elena Rossi?"
"Yes, sir. The head laundress."
"She was carrying a basket near the service elevator."
"She looked startled when she saw me and dropped a bundle of towels."
"Did she speak to you?" Michael demanded, leaning over the desk.
"She asked how Mrs. Moretti was feeling after the dinner," I said, remembering the nervous tremor in Elena’s voice.
"I told her Mrs. Moretti was resting, and she quickly took the elevator down to the basement."
Luca exchanged a dark, knowing look with his brother.
"Elena Rossi has worked here for four years," Michael muttered, rubbing his stubbled chin.
"Her brother runs an auto body shop on the West Side."
"An auto shop that has been heavily in debt to Salvatore Bellini’s loan sharks since last summer," Luca finished smoothly.
"Bring Elena to my private office in the carriage house," Luca instructed Marco, who had just appeared at the open doorway.
"Quietly."
"Do not let the other staff see."
"Understood, Don Luca," Marco nodded, vanishing down the hall like a specter.
Luca turned back to me, his gaze sweeping over my face with an intense, evaluating focus.
"You have sharp eyes, Hannah."
"Most people in your position would have been too terrified to notice details."
"I've spent my whole life watching people, Mr. Moretti," I answered honestly.
"When you grow up poor, paying attention to the people around you is the only way to stay safe."
Luca studied me for a long moment, then reached into his desk drawer once more.
This time, he pulled out a small, sleek black device no larger than a lipstick tube, along with an encrypted black smartphone.
"This is an emergency transponder," he said, handing them to me.
"Press the side button twice, and Marco’s tactical unit will be at your side in under sixty seconds, no matter where you are on the property."
"Keep this phone on you at all times."
"My direct line is programmed into speed dial one."
"Michael is two."
"I don't expect you to fight off hitmen, Hannah."
"I expect you to keep my mother away from windows, unsealed food, and anyone who doesn't have clearance."
I closed my fingers around the sleek devices, nodding firmly.
"I will protect her with my life, sir."
"I don't want your life, Hannah," Luca said softly, his voice carrying an unexpected layer of warmth that caught me completely off guard.
"I want you both alive and unharmed."
He stepped out from behind the desk and walked with me toward the heavy study door.
"Now, go to the third floor."
"Your belongings have already been moved to the master suite."
"Teresa is expecting you for breakfast in the garden terrace."
I opened the door to leave, but Luca’s hand rested on the wood just above my head, his tall frame towering over me in the threshold.
He looked down at me, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips before rising back to meet my eyes.
"Hannah."
My breath hitched in my chest at the sudden proximity.
"Yes, Mr. Moretti?"
"Whatever happens in the next few days, do not be afraid."
"The Bellinis think they can shake the foundation of this family."
"They are about to find out what happens when you strike a sleeping lion."
I nodded, my pulse racing wildly as he stepped back and let me pass.
I hurried down the grand corridor, clutching the key and the emergency transponder tightly in my hand.
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As I reached the grand staircase, I heard the faint, distant sound of tires screeching violently out on the front drive.
A sudden gunshot cracked through the morning mist, shattering the quiet peace of the estate.
