Chapter 5 - The Confrontation with the Ex-Wife
The black Maybach cut through the rain-slicked streets of Oak Park, its engine barely a whisper beneath the steady drumming of the storm.
I sat in the leather passenger seat, no longer wearing my black maid’s apron. Instead, Luca had instructed Mrs. Carter to bring me a tailored cashmere coat in deep charcoal and a simple, elegant ivory silk blouse. The bruises on my face were still present, but Dr. Harris had applied a medical concealer that muted the purple discoloration into a faint, shadowy contour.
Beside me, Luca sat with a heavy leather-bound file resting on his lap. He hadn't spoken since we crossed the city limits, but the tension radiating from his frame filled the entire vehicle.
"Are you afraid of her?" I asked quietly, breaking the silence.
Luca turned his head toward me, the amber glow of the passing streetlamps washing over his strong profile. "Elena?" He gave a short, bitter chuckle. "No. I am ashamed of how things ended between us. When we divorced four years ago, it wasn't because of another woman. It was because the violence of my world reached our doorstep, and I couldn't bear the thought of burying her. I pushed her away to keep her alive. But she took the Moretti family archives with her—not out of greed, but as insurance."
"Insurance for what?"
"To ensure that if I ever married someone who posed a threat to the balance of the families, she could release the ledgers to the Commission and strip me of my title before innocent people were slaughtered," Luca said grimly. "Vanessa knew that. That’s why Vanessa needed Elena to believe I had betrayed her for half a decade. She wanted Elena to burn those ledgers in anger. Without them, the Commission would have had no choice but to accept the Bellinis as my legitimate successors."
Ten minutes later, the car pulled up a gated circular driveway leading to a secluded, beautifully restored Victorian manor surrounded by weeping willows.
Daniel cut the engine. "We have the perimeter secured, boss. No tail."
"Stay with the car," Luca commanded. He stepped out into the rain, opened an umbrella, and walked around to my side, offering his hand to help me out.
His hand was warm and steady. I took it, feeling an anchor in his grip that steadied my racing heart.
We walked up the stone steps together. Luca didn't ring the bell. He knocked three times in a distinct, rhythmic pattern.
A few moments later, the heavy door swung open.
Elena Moretti was breathtaking. In her late thirties, with striking emerald eyes and dark auburn hair swept up into an effortless chignon, she possessed the regal poise of mafia royalty. She wore a simple emerald sweater and trousers, holding a delicate cup of tea.
Her eyes flicked from Luca’s face down to where our hands were still lightly touching, and then up to the faint bruising along my cheekbone.
"Luca," she said, her tone cool, analytical, but devoid of malice. "I received a courier package an hour ago containing surveillance photographs of you and me. Along with an anonymous note claiming you’ve been bedding the Bellini girl since our third anniversary."
"It was fabricated, Elena," Luca said directly.
"I know," Elena replied calmly, stepping aside and opening the door wider. "I may have divorced you, Luca, but you were never a coward, and you were never unfaithful. Come inside out of the rain. Both of you."
The interior of Elena’s home smelled of beeswax, old books, and sandalwood. She led us into a cozy sitting room with a roaring hearth, gesturing for us to sit on the sofa opposite her armchair.
"And who is this?" Elena asked, looking at me with genuine curiosity. "She doesn't look like your usual social circle, Luca. She looks honest."
"Her name is Olivia Hayes," Luca answered, his voice ringing with quiet pride. "She uncovered Vanessa’s plot inside my own house. She took a beating from Vanessa and Mercer to preserve the integrity of the family."
Elena’s eyes widened slightly. She set her teacup down on the saucer with a soft chime and leaned forward, studying my face with sharp, intelligent intensity. "Is this true, Olivia?"
"Yes, ma'am," I answered softly, meeting her gaze. "Miss Bellini hired William Mercer four months ago. She was copying your ex-husband's accounts. She wanted to provoke you into destroying the founding archives so the Bellini syndicate could initiate a hostile takeover during the wedding."
Elena let out a long, slow breath. She leaned back against the cushions, shaking her head. "I told your father twenty years ago that the Bellinis were vipers, Luca. He never listened. And neither did you when you announced that engagement."
"I was securing our northern supply routes," Luca admitted, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "It was a business calculation. A mistake."
"A massive one," Elena agreed. She stood up, walked over to a concealed wall safe behind an oil painting of Lake Como, and spun the brass dial with practiced precision. The heavy door clicked open. From within, she retrieved a thick, worn leather binder embossed with the Moretti crest in faded gold leaf.
She walked back and held it out—not to Luca, but to me.
I blinked, freezing. "Ma'am?"
"Take it, Olivia," Elena said gently. "For four years, I held onto these archives because I swore I would only return them to Luca when he found someone who cared more about his soul than his empire. Vanessa Bellini wanted to burn this city for power. You bled to keep the truth alive."
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I reached out with trembling hands and took the heavy ledger. It was surprisingly warm from the hearth, smelling of aged parchment and leather.
Luca stared at the book in my lap, then looked up at Elena. His expression held a profound, unspoken gratitude that transcended years of pain. "Thank you, Elena."
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"Don't thank me yet," Elena warned, her emerald eyes narrowing slightly. "Vanessa is a cornered animal now, Luca. And cornered animals don't run away. They bite."
***
