Chapter 13 - THE NIGHT THE MANSION LOST ITS POWER|
The Moretti mansion had always looked magnificent at night.
Its tall windows glowed beneath elegant stone arches.
The chandeliers reflected against polished marble.
And expensive cars usually lined the circular driveway.
But on Tuesday evening, the mansion looked different.
Police vehicles waited beyond the gates.
Investigators moved through the entrance under a search warrant.
And for the first time since I had begun working there, the people entering the house weren't concerned with impressing Luca Moretti.
They were looking for evidence.
I remained outside with Maya while officers secured the building.
Detective Brooks had asked me to help identify the household office and other rooms where Vivienne might have stored employee documents.
I had agreed.
After five years in that house, I knew nearly every cabinet, hallway, and storage closet.
I knew where the holiday decorations were kept.
I knew which floorboards creaked.
And I knew which doors Vivienne had recently ordered employees to avoid.
Once the investigators confirmed the relevant areas were secure, Detective Brooks brought me inside to help locate the records described in the warrant.
The dining room was empty.
The Thanksgiving decorations remained.
A few abandoned flowers had begun to wilt.
And Frank's chair still stood beside Luca's seat.
I stopped when I saw it.
So much had happened since Thursday.
Only five days earlier, I had carried that chair into a hallway because I was afraid of losing my job.
Now I was walking through the same mansion helping investigators uncover the truth.
"Claire?"
Detective Brooks stood beside me.
"Are you all right?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
But my eyes remained on the chair.
"I just never thought things would end this way."
She looked around the room.
"Neither did the people who planned it."
We continued toward the study.
Inside, investigators were examining documents and electronic equipment.
A locked cabinet stood against the wall.
Matteo had provided information about the combination and the records stored inside.
An officer opened it.
The shelves contained business folders.
Property records.
Copies of financial agreements.
And a thick black binder labeled LAKEFRONT DEVELOPMENT.
Detective Brooks examined the contents.
Then she carefully removed a sealed envelope.
Inside was the original acknowledgment showing that Frank's settlement payment had been received.
The document was dated four years earlier.
It bore Lakefront Capital's official letterhead.
And it identified the guaranteed obligation as satisfied.
I stared at it.
That single piece of paper could undermine the claim that Frank still owed the debt being used to pressure him.
"That's it," I whispered.
Brooks nodded.
"It's important evidence."
An investigator photographed and documented the envelope.
Other officers continued their work.
Then a shout sounded from the main hallway.
"Police! Stop!"
I turned.
Vivienne was moving toward the servants' entrance.
She wore a long cream coat over a black dress.
Her handbag was clutched tightly against her chest.
Two officers intercepted her near the door.
She struggled.
"Get your hands off me!"
Detective Brooks approached.
"Mrs. Moretti, please remain still."
Vivienne stared at her.
"Do you have any idea who my husband is?"
I nearly laughed.
For months, she had used Luca's name to frighten everyone.
Now she was trying to use it to protect herself.
Brooks remained calm.
"We know who your husband is."
Vivienne's gaze shifted toward me.
Her expression twisted.
"You."
I stood still.
She pointed at me.
"This is all because of you."
I didn't answer immediately.
I remembered Frank sitting alone in his new suit.
I remembered his untouched turkey.
I remembered his trembling voice asking me not to let them take him away.
Then I looked directly at Vivienne.
"No."
My voice was steady.
"This happened because of what you did."
She laughed bitterly.
"You're a maid."
"Yes."
"You were supposed to clean the house."
"I did."
I took a step closer, remaining beside the detective.
"And because I cleaned it, I saw the things you thought nobody important would notice."
Her expression changed.
"I saw Mr. Frank crying after you insulted him."
"You don't know anything."
"I saw you take control of the household records."
"Claire—"
"I heard you tell staff members to keep him away from family dinners."
She stared at me.
"And I heard him ask why his own son had stopped loving him."
For the first time, Vivienne had no answer.
Detective Brooks instructed the officers to escort her away.
Investigators had located a storage device in her handbag.
Its contents would be examined under the appropriate procedures.
At the other end of the hall, officers were questioning Victor Sloan.
He had arrived earlier to collect documents.
The investigation had already connected him to suspicious financial transactions and the restaurant fire.
He attempted to leave when the search began.
But police stopped him before he reached the garage.
I watched him being escorted toward the front entrance.
He looked nothing like the powerful businessman whose name had frightened Matteo for years.
He looked like an angry man discovering that the rules finally applied to him.
Luca stood near the staircase.
When Vivienne saw him, she stopped struggling.
"Luca!"
He turned.
"Darling, you can't let them do this."
He looked at her.
For a moment, I remembered the first time I saw them together.
She had been beautiful.
Elegant.
Charming.
Luca had seemed genuinely happy.
Now he looked at the woman he had married as though he were seeing a stranger.
"You told my father I didn't want him," he said.
Vivienne's eyes filled with tears.
"I was trying to protect us."
"From what?"
"From losing everything."
Luca shook his head.
"You were willing to destroy the only things that mattered."
She reached toward him.
"Please."
He stepped back.
"No."
His voice was quiet.
"We're finished."
Vivienne stared at him.
Then the officers led her away.
I watched through the front window as she was placed in a police vehicle.
The investigation wasn't over.
There would be interviews, legal proceedings, challenges to evidence, and questions no one could answer that night.
But the fear she had created inside the mansion had finally begun to disappear.
Later, Luca called his father.
Frank answered almost immediately.
"Son?"
"It's over for tonight, Dad."
There was a pause.
"Are you safe?"
"Yes."
"And Claire?"
Luca looked toward me.
"She's right here."
Frank sighed.
"Good."
Then he asked something that made Luca's eyes fill with tears.
"Did they find the letter?"
Luca frowned.
"What letter?"
"The one your mother left."
I looked toward the wooden box on the study desk.
Luca had brought Elena's watch box back from the townhouse while searching for documents connected to the restaurant.
Frank had asked him to keep it close.
"There's something beneath the velvet," Frank explained.
Luca opened the box.
He lifted the lining.
A folded sheet of paper rested beneath it.
The handwriting on the front was faded but unmistakably personal.
TO MY TWO BOYS.
Luca stared at it.
Then he whispered, "Mom?"
Frank's voice trembled over the phone.
"She wrote it before she died."
May you like
Luca carefully unfolded the paper.
And when he began reading, I saw the most feared man in Chicago cover his face and cry.
