Chapter 6 - Bloodlines and Betrayals
The second-floor attic room was warm, but it was the stifling, tragic warmth of a bird trapped in a gilded cage.
Sitting in a faded armchair by the small dormer window was an elderly woman with silver hair braided neatly over one shoulder. She looked remarkably like Teresa—the same high cheekbones, the same gentle, sorrowful brown eyes. She wore a thick woolen shawl and held an old rosary between her trembling, arthritic fingers.
When the door opened, she flinched, clutching the beads against her chest.
"I signed the papers, Michael," she said, her voice raspy from disuse. "Please... just let me have my heart medicine."
Luca stepped forward, sinking down to his knees just as he had done with his mother hours earlier.
"Aunt Sofia," Luca said, his voice breaking. "It’s not Michael. It’s Luca."
The old woman froze. She leaned forward, squinting through the dim light of the floor lamp. She reached out a frail, paper-thin hand, her trembling fingers touching Luca’s cheek, tracing the scar near his jawline that he had gotten when he was ten years old.
"Luca?" she breathed, tears instantly spilling over her wrinkled cheeks. "Salvatore’s boy? The little boy who used to hide in the apple crates?"
"Yes, Auntie," Luca choked out, burying his face in her hands. "It’s me. I'm so sorry. I didn't know. Father made a secret to keep you safe, but the wrong people took the keys."
Sofia began to sob, rocking back and forth. "They told me you were dead, Luca! Michael told me two years ago that a bomb went off in your car. He said if I ever left this house, the Bellini family would find me and slaughter Teresa!"
Pure, unadulterated fury flared in Luca’s eyes, but he kept his voice soothing and calm as he held his aunt.
"Nobody is going to hurt you ever again," Luca swore. "Teresa is waiting for you at the estate. The war is over."
I stepped forward with a warm glass of water and her medication bottles, which had been carelessly tossed onto a nearby vanity table. Sofia looked at me with curiosity and relief.
"This is Hannah, Auntie," Luca said, looking up at me with profound respect. "She’s the reason we found you. She’s the guardian angel of this family."
Sofia took my hand, pressing it against her frail cheek. "Bless you, child. Bless your beautiful soul."
An hour later, Sofia was safely bundled into the back of an armored ambulance escorted by Dante, heading toward the Moretti estate under heavy armed guard.
Luca and I remained in the small study downstairs, reviewing the contents of the steel lockbox he had retrieved from beneath the floorboards.
Outside, the storm had finally begun to break, leaving behind a pale grey dawn that crept through the rain-streaked windows.
Luca sat at the old wooden kitchen table, laying out yellowed documents, handwritten ledgers, and property deeds. As he read through a thick, legal contract dated two weeks ago, his jaw dropped in disbelief.
"Hannah," Luca called out, his voice sharp. "Look at this."
I walked over, looking over his broad shoulder at the document.
At the top of the page was the official letterhead of the Bellini Family Syndicate. Below it was a binding transfer agreement for the West Addison property, the Moretti family’s downtown shipping docks, and three offshore holding accounts.
At the bottom of the page were two signatures.
One was Michael Moretti.
The other was not Vanessa. It was Don Antonio Bellini—Vanessa’s father.
And attached to the back of the contract was an encrypted bank draft detailing an offshore transfer of fifty million dollars. But what made my blood run cold was the small, handwritten addendum stapled to the final page in Vanessa’s elegant, loopy handwriting:
*‘The wedding will proceed as planned on the 18th. The neurotoxin will be administered to Luca’s post-ceremony champagne toast. It will look like a congenital heart failure. Michael will assume the seat of Don, and the Bellini alliance will take full control of the Great Lakes shipping ports. Ensure Teresa is moved to the private sanitarium before the weekend so she cannot demand an autopsy.’*
My hand flew to my mouth. A wave of nausea swept over me.
"They weren't just trying to steal the house," I whispered, horrified. "They were going to murder you."
Luca didn't flinch. The cold, calculating stillness that settled over him was terrifying to behold. He stared at the handwritten note with eyes blacker than midnight.
"They wanted my empire," Luca said quietly, tapping the paper with his finger. "They used my brother's greed and my own desire for family peace against me. They thought because I wanted an end to the bloodshed, I had grown soft."
He stood up, towering over the table. He folded the contract and tucked it into his inner jacket pocket.
"Hannah," he said, turning to look at me. His gaze was burning with an intensity that took my breath away. "The Bellinis think they are coming to an engagement celebration tomorrow evening at the Drake Hotel."
"What are you going to do?" I asked, my heart pounding.
Luca walked toward me, stopping until he was so close I could feel the heat radiating from his chest. He reached out and gently took my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine.
May you like
"I am going to attend the celebration," Luca said softly. "And I want you by my side. Not in a maid’s uniform. But in the finest silk in Chicago. I want them to see the woman who saved the Moretti family while they were plotting in the shadows."
***
