The Man In The Velvet Chair

Luca stared at the photograph of his dead wife.

The grand foyer of the mansion was completely silent, save for the frantic beating of my own heart.

I know what she did.

Catherine Moretti had died in a tragic car accident three years ago. Everyone in Chicago knew the story. She had lost control of her car on an icy bridge and plunged into the river. It was a tragedy that had broken Luca’s heart and left Sophie without a mother.

But what could Catherine have possibly done that Dominic was holding over her memory?

“Sir,” Marco’s voice interrupted the heavy silence. The massive security chief rushed through the front doors, rain dripping from his heavy coat. “The car is ready. My men are already en route to the nursing home.”

Luca snapped the silver pocket watch shut, his knuckles turning white. He shoved it into his jacket pocket.

“Let’s go,” Luca ordered.

He looked at me. “Hannah. Stay here. It’s too dangerous.”

“No!” I cried out, stepping in front of him. “That’s my mother, Mr. Moretti! She’s defenseless. She can't walk. I am going with you.”

Luca looked into my eyes. He saw the sheer, desperate terror of a daughter who was about to lose her only family. He gave a single, sharp nod.

“Keep your head down,” Luca warned.

We ran out into the pouring Chicago rain and threw ourselves into the back of the armored SUV. Marco slammed his foot on the gas, the heavy vehicle tearing through the wrought-iron gates and speeding into the city.

The drive was agonizing. The rain lashed against the windows like bullets. I sat in the back seat, my hands shaking so violently I couldn't clasp them together.

I thought about my mother. Sweet, tired Mary Collins, who had worked double shifts to put me through school, who was currently lying in a hospital bed recovering from a broken hip.

Dominic was going to kill her because I had given a dinner roll to an old woman.

“We’re three minutes out,” Marco yelled from the front seat, weaving violently through the late-night traffic.

Luca pulled his weapon from his holster, checking the magazine with cold, practiced efficiency.

“Marco,” Luca said, his voice utterly devoid of emotion. “If there are Rossi men inside that facility, no warnings. No prisoners. You clear the floor.”

“Understood, Boss.”

The SUV screeched to a halt in front of the Oakwood Nursing Facility. It was a quiet, unassuming brick building.

It looked too peaceful.

“Stay behind me,” Luca ordered as he kicked the door open.

We sprinted through the pouring rain and burst through the double glass doors of the lobby.

The receptionist was slumped over her desk.

I screamed, but Luca covered my mouth with his hand, pulling me behind a pillar.

“She’s breathing,” Luca whispered, his eyes scanning the room. “She’s just unconscious. They hit her.”

Marco signaled from the hallway. He pointed two fingers upward. The second floor.

My mother’s room was 204.

We moved up the stairwell in absolute silence. Luca moved like a ghost, his gun raised, every muscle in his body tense and ready for violence.

When we reached the second-floor landing, Marco slowly pushed the heavy fire door open.

The hallway was empty. But the door to room 204 was wide open.

I couldn't wait. The terror overtook my obedience. I pushed past Luca and sprinted down the hallway.

“Mom!” I screamed.

I burst into the room.

The bed was empty.

The blankets were thrown on the floor. Her IV pole was knocked over, fluid dripping onto the linoleum.

“No!” I sobbed, falling to my knees beside the empty bed. “No, no, please!”

Luca stepped into the room, his eyes scanning every corner.

“Hannah, get up,” Luca said firmly.

He walked over to the window. It was wide open, the cold rain blowing into the room. Below the window was a fire escape leading down to the alley.

“They took her,” Marco said, his voice grim. “They couldn't kill her quietly without waking the ward, so they took her.”

I buried my face in my hands, weeping uncontrollably. “Why? She doesn't know anything! She’s just a sick old woman!”

Luca walked over to me. He knelt down and pulled me to my feet. His grip was strong, anchoring me to reality.

“They took her for leverage, Hannah,” Luca said quietly. “Dominic knows his plan failed. He knows I will hunt him to the ends of the earth for trying to take Sophie. He needs a bargaining chip.”

“But why my mother?” I cried. “She’s nobody to you! You won't trade your empire for a maid’s mother!”

Luca looked at me. The absolute certainty in his dark eyes made the breath catch in my throat.

“You put your body between a loaded gun and my mother tonight,” Luca said. “You saved my daughter from being sold to a cartel. Your mother is not a nobody to me, Hannah. She is under my protection.”

Before I could speak, Marco’s radio crackled.

“Boss,” a voice said through the static. “We found something in the alley.”

We rushed downstairs and out the back exit.

In the dark, rain-soaked alleyway, one of Luca’s men was shining a flashlight on a heavy, black winter coat lying in a puddle.

It was my mother’s coat.

“They must have grabbed it to cover her when they took her down the fire escape,” Marco muttered. “Dropped it in the rush.”

I knelt down and picked up the soaking wet wool. As I squeezed the water out of it, my fingers brushed against something hard in the deep inner pocket.

“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered.

I reached inside the pocket and pulled out a small, tightly sealed plastic bag.

Inside the bag wasn't a pill bottle or a wallet.

It was a beautiful, heavy diamond bracelet.

Luca stepped closer. The beam of the flashlight hit the diamonds, making them sparkle in the dark alley.

Luca stopped breathing.

“That’s impossible,” Luca whispered.

“What is it?” I asked, my hands shaking.

Luca reached out and took the bag from me.

“This is Catherine’s wedding bracelet,” Luca said, his voice completely hollow. “I buried her in this three years ago.”

He turned the plastic bag over.

There was a piece of white medical tape stuck to the back. Written on the tape, in my mother’s handwriting, were the words: