Chapter 3 - The Blood On The Ivory Carpet
Screams erupted around the banquet table. Chairs crashed to the floor as fifty of Chicago’s wealthiest elites scrambled away from the center of the room.
“Victor, put the gun down,” Luca said.
His voice didn’t rise. It didn’t tremble. It was the cold, dead tone of a man who had built an empire on violence.
Victor backed up against the locked mahogany doors, grabbing Isabella by her hair and pulling her against his chest.
Isabella shrieked in pain, tears streaming down her face.
“Open the doors, Luca!” Victor roared, pressing the barrel against Isabella’s temple. “Tell your men to open the damn doors, or I blow her brains all over this ivory carpet!”
Vanessa was still on the floor, weeping hysterically. “Victor, don’t! You promised me no one would get hurt!”
“Shut up, you stupid bitch!” Victor spat. “You were supposed to keep Elena sedated! You were supposed to marry Luca, transfer the south side shipping ports to my name, and give me the girl!”
I stood frozen near the serving cart. My mind was spinning.
Transfer the ports? Give him Isabella?
“You never wanted to marry her,” Luca realized, his eyes narrowing. “You wanted her inheritance. The trust fund my father left her.”
“Your father was a fool,” Victor sneered, his hand shaking slightly. “He left eighty percent of the clean assets to a little girl who wants to play doctor. I just needed her signature on a marriage certificate. Vanessa owed me two million dollars. This was her way of paying me back.”
“Why did Vanessa owe you two million dollars?” Luca asked, taking one microscopic step forward.
“Because she isn’t who you think she is, Luca!” Victor laughed, a manic, desperate sound. “Tell him, Vanessa! Tell him why Elena came looking for you the night she disappeared!”
Luca didn’t look at Vanessa. He kept his eyes locked on Victor’s trigger finger.
“Elena found out,” Vanessa sobbed from the floor, hiding her face in her hands. “Elena hired a private investigator. She found out I’m not a Bellini.”
“Who are you?” Luca demanded.
Vanessa looked up, her mascara running down her pale cheeks.
“My real name is Vanessa Moretti,” she whispered. “I’m your cousin.”
A collective gasp swept through the room.
Luca stopped moving. For the first time all night, shock registered on his face.
“My uncle didn’t have a daughter,” Luca said slowly.
“He had a bastard daughter,” Vanessa cried. “With a maid in Palermo. I grew up with nothing, Luca! While you and Isabella lived in this mansion, I was begging on the streets. Victor found me. He gave me a new identity. He brought me here to infiltrate the family.”
“And Elena found out,” Victor grinned. “My stupid, nosy wife found the adoption papers. She was going to tell Luca everything. So Vanessa took care of it.”
“I didn’t want to kill her!” Vanessa screamed. “I drove her to the clinic! I paid the doctors to keep her heavily medicated so she couldn’t talk! I just needed time to marry Luca and take what belonged to me!”
I looked at the clinic form still in Luca’s hand.
My mother. Why was my mother’s name on that paper?
“Where does Emily’s mother fit into this?” Luca demanded, asking the exact question screaming in my mind.
Victor looked at me, a cruel, mocking smile spreading across his face.
“Oh, the little maid doesn’t know?” Victor chuckled. “Your mother didn’t just co-sign the mortgage on Ashland Avenue, Emily. She used to be a nurse at Pine Ridge Sanctuary.”
My breath caught in my throat.
“No,” I whispered. “She works at the city hospital.”
“She transferred eighteen months ago,” Victor said. “Right after Vanessa paid her fifty thousand dollars to forge Elena’s psychological evaluation.”
My knees buckled. I grabbed the edge of the table.
My mother? My mother took a bribe to lock an innocent woman in an asylum?
“She needed the money for your college tuition, Emily,” Vanessa cried from the floor. “She did it for you!”
I felt violently ill. The room spun around me. Everything I thought I knew about my life, my mother, my home—it was all built on the suffering of the woman in the private clinic.
“Open the doors,” Victor demanded again, pulling Isabella’s hair harder. “Now!”
Luca looked at his sister. Isabella was crying, but she looked back at her brother with a sudden, fierce determination. She gave him a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
Luca didn’t tell his men to open the doors.
Instead, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a heavy gold pocket watch.
“You want my assets, Victor?” Luca asked quietly. “You want the shipping ports? They’re tied to the family trust. The codes are inside this watch.”
Victor’s eyes darted to the gold watch dangling from Luca’s fingers. Greed flashed across his face.
“Toss it to me,” Victor ordered.
“Catch,” Luca said.
But Luca didn’t toss it to Victor. He threw it hard against the crystal chandelier above Victor’s head.
The heavy gold watch shattered the crystal bulbs. A shower of glass rained down on Victor.
Victor flinched, raising his arm to shield his face.
In that split second, Isabella stomped her velvet heel as hard as she could onto Victor’s foot.
Victor howled in pain, his grip loosening.
Luca moved faster than a human being of his size should be able to. He crossed the ten feet between them in a blur of black suit and tattooed hands.
Before Victor could aim the gun again, Luca grabbed Victor’s wrist, twisted it violently until a sickening snap echoed in the room, and drove his knee into Victor’s chest.
The gun clattered across the floor.
Victor collapsed, gasping for air.
Luca stood over him, straightening his cuffs.
“Thomas,” Luca said calmly. “Take Mr. Romano to the basement.”
As the guards dragged Victor away, Luca turned to me.
May you like
“Emily,” he said. “Get your coat. We are going to Ashland Avenue.”
TITLE: The Blood On The Doorstep
