Chapter 5 - The Gala of Lies
She was pale, wrapped in an ivory cashmere dressing gown, and sitting upright in her polished mahogany wheelchair. Behind her stood Chief of Security Miller and Dr. Mercer.
Though she was weak, her eyes burned with the regal, unyielding pride that had defined the Moretti name for three generations.
"Mother," Luca breathed, moving swiftly toward her.
"I'm alright, son," Eleanor said, raising a trembling hand to touch his sleeve. Then she looked across the ballroom directly at the woman in the red dress. "Victoria Campbell. You underestimated two things when you came into my house."
Victoria stood frozen, her chest heaving against the tight silk of her bodice.
"First," Eleanor continued, her voice gaining strength, echoing against the vaulted ceiling, "you underestimated a mother’s instinct. I knew who you were the second week you stepped into this home. You have your father's habit of tapping your left index finger whenever you tell a lie."
A few guests whispered, glancing at Victoria’s hands, which were now clenched into trembling fists.
"And second," Eleanor said, turning her head toward me with an expression of profound tenderness, "you underestimated Sophie Bennett. You thought because she worked with her hands, because she cleaned your spills and carried your luggage, that she had no courage. But while you were scheming to rob a widow and an orphan, that girl broke her bones to keep an old woman from being dragged into the dark."
Eleanor raised her chin, looking at the assembled crowd of Chicago’s most influential citizens.
"Sophie Bennett has more nobility in her little finger than the entire Campbell bloodline ever possessed."
Victoria’s composure shattered completely. She reached into her small designer evening clutch, her fingers trembling violently.
"You think you won?" she hissed, backing away toward the French doors that opened out onto the lakeside terrace. "I have the transfer orders already stamped! Richard Vance submitted the asset freeze to the circuit court two hours ago! By tomorrow morning, the Moretti accounts will be tied up in litigation for the next decade! You’ll be ruined!"
"Richard Vance won't be submitting anything," Luca said calmly.
He pulled his smartphone from his pocket and tapped the screen once, placing it on speaker.
A gruff voice filled the silent ballroom: *"Mr. Moretti? This is Special Agent Harris, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Chicago Field Office. We picked up Richard Vance at O’Hare International twenty minutes ago trying to board a private flight to Zurich. We have his laptops, the forged signature sheets, and the full financial paper trail linking him to Victoria Campbell."*
Victoria gasped, dropping her clutch to the marble floor. Gold lipsticks, compact powder, and a small glass vial containing a clear sedative rolled across the polished stone.
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"The front gates are surrounded, Agent Harris," Luca said into the phone. "You can come in now."
***
