Chapter 7 - The Cost of Truth
Luca didn't let me go.
He lifted me easily into his arms, carrying me over to the large leather sofa near the marble fireplace. He set me down gently, kneeling on the floor beside me, his hands resting on my knees to steady my trembling body.
“Breathe,” he commanded softly. “You’re safe now. No one is touching you.”
He reached for a crystal decanter on the side table, poured two fingers of amber brandy into a tumbler, and pressed it into my uninjured hand.
“Drink. Just a sip.”
The liquor burned like liquid fire going down my throat, but it cut through the icy shock paralyzing my chest. The trembling in my limbs began to subside.
Marco burst into the study a minute later, his service pistol unholstered, breathing heavily.
“Boss! We found Julian near the east gate,” Marco reported, his eyes darting to me. “He claimed he was taking a walk. Isabella was waiting for him in an unmarked sedan outside the perimeter wall. We held Julian, but Isabella drove off.”
Luca didn't take his eyes off my face.
“Lock Julian in the carriage house,” Luca said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “Take his phone. Take his car keys. Put two armed guards at the door. If he tries to leave, break his knees.”
Marco blinked, stunned by the cold brutality in Luca’s tone, but he didn't question the order.
“Understood, sir.”
Marco backed out of the room, shutting the door.
Luca turned his full attention back to me. He reached out and gently pushed a strand of dark hair away from my forehead, his touch infinitely gentle compared to the violence in his orders.
“Tell me everything, Emma. Every word.”
I took a ragged breath and told him.
I told him about the emergency board meeting planned for ten o’clock tomorrow morning. I told him about Victor Sterling’s fake assault report, Julian’s proxy votes, and the plan to use the family trust’s morality clause against him.
And then, my voice broke.
“Isabella said… she said they planted files on my personal email,” I whispered, tears spilling over again. “Shipping manifests. They’re going to frame me for corporate espionage, Luca. They’re going to say I seduced you to steal company secrets for Victor Sterling.”
Luca’s expression didn't change, but his eyes turned black as midnight.
“They think they’re clever,” Luca said softly.
He stood up, walked over to his massive mahogany desk, and tapped the intercom.
“David,” Luca said into the speaker.
“Yes, Mr. Moretti?” his chief technology officer responded instantly.
“Trace Emma Vance’s private email server right now. Look for unauthorized incoming packets within the last four hours from IP addresses associated with Sterling Logistics or Julian Moretti’s private residence. Mirror the incoming server logs, freeze the data, and trace the routing path back to the originating terminal.”
“On it, sir. Give me fifteen minutes.”
Luca released the intercom button and walked back over to the sofa.
He sat down beside me, close enough that our shoulders brushed. He looked at my splinted right hand, noticing that the rough sprint through the garden had loosened the bandages Dr. Hayes had applied.
“Give me your hand,” he said softly.
“Luca, you don't need to—”
“Emma.”
His tone was quiet, but it brooked no argument.
I offered him my hand.
Luca reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a fresh roll of medical wrap and surgical tape, and set them on the low coffee table. With patient, methodical care, he unwound the soiled gauze, checking the skin beneath. The bruising was still dark and angry, but the swelling had begun to recede slightly.
He rewrapped the linen around the splint, his long, capable fingers moving with surprising tenderness.
“You ran through the dark to warn me,” he murmured, keeping his eyes on my hand. “You risked yourself to come here.”
“They were going to ruin you,” I said simply.
Luca paused, his fingers resting lightly against my wrist, feeling the rapid flutter of my pulse beneath his skin.
He looked up, meeting my gaze.
“Why do you care so much, Emma?” he asked.
The question hung between us, heavy and fragile.
The study was quiet, save for the crackle of the embers in the fireplace and the steady ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.
“Because you’re a good man, Luca,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “In a world full of people like Isabella and Julian who treat everyone like pawns… you protected my sister. You stood up for me when nobody else would. You didn't have to, but you did.”
Luca’s jaw clenched.
He leaned in slowly, closing the space between us until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. His hand moved from my wrist up to the nape of my neck, his fingers tangling gently in my hair.
“I didn't protect you because I’m a good man,” Luca whispered, his voice dark and rough with suppressed emotion. “I protected you because from the moment you walked into this house six months ago, I haven't been able to think about anything else.”
My breath caught in my throat.
“Luca…”
“I tried to ignore it,” he said, his eyes burning into mine with an honesty that left me defenseless. “I told myself you were off-limits. That you worked for my grandmother. That I was tied to a contract that would protect my family. But every time you smiled at her, every time you spoke to me… I wanted to tear that contract up and throw it in the fire.”
He leaned closer, his lips hovering a breath away from mine.
“You are not a pawn, Emma. You are the only real thing in my life.”
Before I could answer, before our lips could meet, the intercom on his desk chimed sharply.
Luca didn't pull away immediately. He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against mine for one lingering, breathless heartbeat, before releasing me and standing up.
He pressed the intercom. “Report.”
David’s voice came through the speaker, crisp and triumphant.
“We got them, Mr. Moretti. At 7:42 PM, an encrypted data packet containing classified Port of Newark shipping manifests was uploaded to Miss Vance’s email from an IP address registered to the Sterling Tower penthouse suite. More importantly, the digital certificate used to bypass our firewall was signed with Julian Moretti’s private executive key.”
A slow, terrifying smile spread across Luca’s lips.
“Did you capture the handshake logs?”
“Full capture, sir. Complete with Julian’s encrypted digital signature and the Sterling network timestamp. It’s ironclad. Federal wire fraud, corporate espionage, and evidence tampering.”
“Print three copies,” Luca said smoothly. “And call the United States Attorney for the Southern District of New York. Tell him I have a breakfast delivery for him at eight in the morning.”
Luca turned back to me, the darkness in his eyes replaced by the cold, triumphant fire of a predator who had just sprung his trap.
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“They wanted an emergency board meeting at ten,” Luca said, buttoning his sleeves. “Let’s give them one they will never forget.”
***
