Chapter 5 - Whispers in the Chapel
The cathedral of St. Jude stood like a gothic fortress in the heart of downtown Chicago, its towering stone spires piercing the gray, overcast sky.
Friday afternoon brought the final, mandatory wedding walkthrough.
The interior of the cathedral was breathtaking. Massive stained-glass windows cast fractured beams of sapphire, ruby, and gold across the polished marble floor. Dozens of florists were already busy wrapping white calla lilies and imported white orchids around the heavy mahogany pews.
Over forty members of the Moretti and Bellini extended families sat scattered throughout the nave, their murmurs echoing softly beneath the vaulted stone ceilings.
I stood in the shadows of the rear transept, tucked away behind a massive marble pillar near the vestry. Daniel stood two feet behind me, dressed in an immaculate black three-piece suit, his sharp eyes continuously scanning the crowd.
I was clad in a tailored black wool coat that concealed my orthopedic sling, my hair pinned back neatly. To any casual observer, I looked like an executive assistant or a high-end coordinator overseeing the logistics.
Down at the altar, Vanessa stood beside Luca.
She looked radiant. She wore an ivory silk designer pantsuit, a four-carat diamond pendant resting against her collarbone, and a look of triumphant serenity plastered across her face. She held Luca’s arm with possessive familiarity, leaning into his broad shoulder as the elderly priest, Monsignor Rossi, walked them through the exchange of rings.
“And remember, my children,” Monsignor Rossi’s voice resonated through the cathedral, “the holy sacrament of matrimony is an unbreakable covenant before God and family. What God has joined, let no man put asunder.”
“Amen, Father,” Vanessa said sweetly, looking up into Luca’s face with pure, fabricated adoration. “I have waited my entire life for this covenant.”
Luca looked down at her. His face was an unreadable mask of stoic perfection.
“As have I, Vanessa,” Luca said smoothly. “Every vow spoken at this altar tomorrow will be honored to the letter.”
Vanessa beamed, turning to whisper something to her maid of honor.
A few pews back, I spotted Lorenzo Bellini.
He was thirty-five, handsome in a slick, predatory way, with slicked-back dark hair and an arrogant smirk that never seemed to leave his lips. He was leaning over the back of the pew, chatting casually with an older man whose silver hair and scarred jaw marked him as an elder captain of the Bellini family.
Lorenzo checked his platinum watch, tapped his phone screen, and smiled.
He had no idea that the fourteen million dollars he had wired to the Valentis was already sitting in a dead-end holding vault controlled by Luca’s forensic accountants. He had no idea that every text, every call, and every betrayal was being compiled into a single, lethal portfolio.
“Ten minutes until the recessional practice,” Daniel murmured in my ear. “Stay behind the pillar, Anna. If Lorenzo spots you—”
“He won't,” I whispered back. “He never paid attention to the domestic staff. To the Bellinis, people like me don't have faces.”
As the bridal party began organizing their exit procession down the center aisle, Vanessa stepped away toward the side corridor leading to the bridal preparation rooms to touch up her makeup.
She turned the corner, walking directly toward the quiet alcove where the secondary restrooms were located—completely unaware that I was standing near the adjacent vestry door.
The sound of her heels clicking against the flagstones grew louder.
I moved to step back further into the shadows, but as she rounded the pillar, her eyes flicked up from her compact mirror.
She froze dead in her tracks.
The color instantly drained from Vanessa’s face. The small gold compact nearly slipped from her manicured fingers.
“You?” she hissed, her voice a sharp, venomous whisper.
I didn't move. I stood straight, my right hand resting over the lapel of my black coat, concealing the sling underneath.
“Miss Bellini,” I said, my tone flat, polite, and completely devoid of the terror I had felt thirty-six hours earlier.
Vanessa’s eyes narrowed into slits of pure, incandescent rage. She took two aggressive steps toward me, looking around quickly to ensure none of the guests were within earshot.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she spat, leaning in until I could smell the expensive floral perfume radiating from her skin. “I ordered you fired. You were supposed to be out of the city by sunrise!”
“Mr. Moretti determined my employment was not concluded,” I answered calmly.
Hearing Luca’s name sent a violent twitch through Vanessa’s left eyelid. She grabbed my right arm—the uninjured one—her fingers digging into the wool of my coat with painful force.
“Listen to me, you pathetic little gutter rat,” she whispered, her face inches from mine, her mask of bridal sweetness completely destroyed. “You think because Luca felt a momentary pang of pity for a crippled maid, you’re safe? Tomorrow afternoon, I will be the mistress of the Moretti empire. The moment the priest finishes those vows, I will have my brother’s men take you to a warehouse in South Chicago. You will disappear, Mitchell. Your family will never even find the pieces.”
My heart hammered, but I did not look away. I stared directly into her cold, sociopathic eyes.
“You won't touch my family, Vanessa.”
She let out a cruel, mocking laugh. “Who is going to stop me? Luca? He doesn't care about you. You are a piece of furniture to him. A servant who wipes his counters.”
“Take your hands off her.”
The voice was not loud. It didn't need to be.
It cut through the vaulted stone corridor like the cocking of a heavy caliber pistol.
Vanessa’s hand snapped back as if she had touched red-hot iron. She spun around, her breath catching violently in her throat.
Luca stood framed in the archway of the vestry.
Behind him, Daniel and two of his personal enforcers stood like towering gargoyles, their faces carved from cold granite.
Luca took three slow, measured steps forward. His eyes weren't looking at Vanessa’s face; they were fixed on the sleeve of my coat where her fingers had just been dug in.
“L-Luca,” Vanessa stammered, her voice instantly shifting back into a fragile, trembling pitch. “Darling! Thank God you’re here. This girl… she followed us to the cathedral! She was lurking in the shadows, trying to intimidate me before the ceremony. She’s unstable, Luca, I swear it!”
Luca didn't look at me. He kept his eyes locked on his bride-to-be.
“Is that so?” he asked softly.
“Yes!” Vanessa cried, clutching her chest. “She must be obsessed with the family, or trying to extort money from the wedding publicity! Please, have Daniel remove her immediately. She is ruining my sacred day!”
Luca stepped closer, towering over her. He reached out, his broad hand gently tucking an errant strand of dark hair behind Vanessa’s ear. The gesture looked intimate, loving even, to anyone watching from afar.
But the look in his eyes made Vanessa’s breath hitch in pure terror.
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“Do not worry, my love,” Luca whispered, his voice smooth as silk and cold as a tombstone. “Nobody is going to ruin your day. Tomorrow, the entire world will bear witness to exactly what you deserve.”
***
