Chapter 2 - THE FROZEN ROOM
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The silence in the grand dining room was so absolute that I could hear the crystal droplets of the chandelier vibrating against the ceiling.
Thirty of Chicago’s wealthiest elite sat frozen with their forks suspended in midair.
Not a single person dared to cough, chew, or even draw a full breath.
Vanessa’s pale face had turned the color of curdled milk as she stared at the trembling old cook.
“You crazy old witch,” Vanessa hissed, her manicured fingers curling into tight claws.
“Luca, she is senile, and she belongs in an asylum!”
Luca did not raise his voice, but the drop in his vocal register made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“Teresa raised me from the crib, Vanessa.”
“She remembers the exact day my first tooth came in, and she remembers the exact day my mother stopped breathing.”
“She does not forget names, and she certainly does not forget dates.”
Luca slowly stood to his full height, towering over the mahogany banquet table.
His dark eyes swept across the frozen dinner guests with terrifying detachment.
“Dinner is concluded.”
“My drivers will escort each of you to your vehicles immediately.”
“Whatever you heard tonight remains inside these walls, or you will answer to me personally.”
Nobody argued or hesitated.
Within two minutes, chair legs scraped violently against the hardwood as the city’s most influential socialites fled into the rainy evening.
The heavy oak doors clicked shut, leaving only the four of us in the vast, echoing room.
Matteo, Luca’s head of security, stepped out from the shadows near the terrace doors with his hand resting firmly on the grip of his jacket.
“Boss?” Matteo asked softly.
Luca did not look away from his wife.
“Lock down the estate perimeter.”
“Nobody enters, nobody leaves, and cut the external cell signals to the guest suites.”
Vanessa took a frantic step backward, her diamond earrings catching the flickering candlelight.
“Luca, you cannot treat me like a prisoner in my own home!”
“I am your wife!”
Luca’s expression was carved out of cold granite.
“This ceased being your home the moment you stole food from the mouth of the woman who fed my father.”
Teresa was weeping quietly into her apron, clutching the small brass key to her chest as if it were a holy relic.
“Luca, please,” the old woman sobbed, reaching out with a calloused hand.
“I never wanted war in this house.”
“Your father loved peace more than anything.”
Luca knelt down beside Teresa’s chair again, his demeanor softening with profound reverence.
“My father loved justice, Teresa.”
“He worked you forty years so you could live your twilight in dignity and comfort.”
“Tell me where this key leads.”
Teresa swallowed hard, glancing nervously toward Vanessa before leaning toward Luca’s ear.
“Behind the painting of Saint Anthony in your father’s old private library.”
“The safe that was built before the new wing was constructed.”
“He made me swear on the Virgin Mary that I would only give it to you if the shadows returned to swallow the house.”
Luca took the brass key into his palm, closing his strong fingers around the cold metal.
He turned his gaze toward me, and my breath caught in my throat.
“Claire.”
“Yes, Mr. Moretti?” I replied, my voice shaking.
“Take Teresa to the master sitting room and bring her warm broth and tea.”
“Stay by her side until I call for you.”
“Matteo, escort my wife to the east parlor and make sure she remains there without a phone.”
Vanessa lunged forward, her voice turning into a shrill shriek that shattered the quiet dignity of the house.
“My father will crush you for this, Luca!”
“The Bellini family owns half the docks in this city!”
May you like
Luca didn’t even blink as Matteo firmly seized her arms.
“Tell your father to enjoy his docks while he still has hands to count his money.”
