Chapter 10 - THE STRANGERS IN TUSCANY
The words hung in the air like a guillotine.
Your vineyard is currently being occupied.
Luca’s posture instantly shifted from defensive to lethal. He stepped fully into the doorway, blocking the Italian lawyer from seeing me.
“Nobody occupies Moretti property,” Luca growled. “And nobody threatens women in my house.”
Matteo Rossi held his hands up, a placating gesture that didn't reach his cold eyes.
“Please, Mr. Moretti, there is no threat,” Rossi said smoothly. “I am merely a messenger. The estate has been legally sitting empty for forty years. Under Italian squatter laws, the current occupants have filed a claim. I am here to facilitate a legal transfer, or… a negotiation.”
“I’ll negotiate with them,” Luca said, his voice dangerously low.
“Luca, wait.”
I stepped out from the kitchen, clutching the yellowed deed in my hands.
My mother grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. “Hannah, don't. This is a trap.”
I gently pulled my arm away. I was tired of hiding. I was tired of letting other people dictate my life while I stood in the background holding a dusting rag.
I walked up behind Luca.
“Who is occupying my property, Mr. Rossi?” I asked, keeping my voice steady.
Rossi looked at me, his eyes dropping briefly to the vintage deed in my hands. A faint, almost imperceptible smile crossed his lips.
“A family,” Rossi answered. “They moved in shortly after your father passed away twenty years ago. They have cultivated the land, maintained the vines, and turned a profit. They believe the estate rightfully belongs to them now.”
“They believe wrong,” Luca snapped. “Frank bought that land in cash.”
“A fact they are willing to dispute in court, which could take decades,” Rossi replied calmly. “However, the head of the family has offered a generous buyout. They wish to purchase the deed from you directly, Miss Collins. For five million dollars.”
The number echoed in my head.
Five million dollars.
I could buy a house. I could pay off every debt my mother had accrued while in hiding. I could set myself up for the rest of my life.
“Tell them we accept,” my mother called out from the kitchen, desperation in her voice. “Hannah, sign the paper and let it go. We don't need any more ties to that world.”
Rossi opened his briefcase and pulled out a thick contract and a gold pen.
“If you just sign here, Miss Collins, the funds will be wired to your account by morning.”
I reached out to take the pen. It was the logical choice. It was the safe choice.
But as my fingers brushed the cold gold of the pen, I hesitated.
I looked down at the deed Frank Moretti had left for me. The paper was worn, loved, protected for four decades. Frank hadn't just bought this land as an investment. He had bought it as a sanctuary for the man who saved his life.
My father.
If this family had been living there for twenty years… why were they suddenly so desperate to buy it now? Why send an expensive lawyer across the world the exact week the Bellini syndicate fell?
I looked at Rossi.
“What is the name of the family occupying the land?” I asked.
Rossi’s polite smile faltered. “I don't see how that’s relevant to the transaction.”
“What is the name?” Luca echoed, stepping closer to the lawyer, invading his personal space.
Rossi swallowed hard, his composure cracking under Luca’s intimidating presence.
“The… the family name is Bellini,” Rossi admitted quietly.
The silence in the foyer was deafening.
“Bellini,” Luca repeated, the word tasting like poison on his tongue.
“Carlo’s cousins,” my mother gasped from the kitchen, covering her mouth. “They fled Chicago thirty years ago when the feds started investigating. They’ve been hiding in Italy.”
I looked at the contract in Rossi’s hand.
They weren't offering me five million dollars because they wanted the grapes. They were offering me five million dollars because Carlo’s empire in Chicago had just burned to the ground, and they needed legal ownership of a massive, secluded estate to rebuild their syndicate overseas.
They were trying to use my father’s sanctuary to fund a new war.
I looked Rossi dead in the eye.
“Tell the Bellini family I’m not selling,” I said firmly.
Rossi’s face hardened. The polite lawyer facade vanished completely.
“Miss Collins, I strongly advise you to reconsider,” Rossi sneered, his voice dropping into a thinly veiled threat. “The Bellinis do not take no for an answer. Accidents happen in Tuscany every day.”
Before Rossi could finish his sentence, Luca grabbed the lawyer by the lapels of his expensive suit and violently shoved him backward out the door.
Rossi stumbled down the porch steps, dropping his briefcase into the wet grass.
“Get off my property,” Luca roared, his voice echoing across the quiet suburban street. “You tell the Bellinis that if they are still on that vineyard by the end of the week, I won't send a lawyer. I’ll come myself.”
Rossi scrambled to pick up his briefcase, his face pale with fear. He didn't say another word. He ran to his rented sedan, threw it in gear, and sped away.
Luca slammed the front door shut, throwing the deadbolt.
He turned to me, his chest heaving with adrenaline.
“You can’t keep it, Hannah,” my mother cried, running into the foyer. “They’ll kill you for it! You’re a civilian! You can’t fight the Italian faction of the Bellinis!”
I looked down at the deed in my hands.
My mother was right. I was a maid. I didn't know how to run a vineyard, let alone fight off a mafia occupation.
But I looked at Luca. Then I looked into the living room, where little Leo was watching us with wide, innocent eyes.
Frank Moretti had protected my family. He had left this land to us as a safe haven. And I wasn't going to let the people who tried to kill his grandson turn it into a fortress.
“I’m not a civilian anymore, Mom,” I said quietly. “I’m the owner.”
I looked at Luca.
“I need a favor,” I said to the mafia boss.
Luca smiled, a slow, dangerous grin that promised absolute chaos for anyone who stood in our way.
May you like
“Name it,” Luca said.
“I need a flight to Italy,” I said, folding the deed carefully. “And I need you to come with me.”
