Chapter 3 - THE MANAGER'S CONFESSION
The basement office of the Moretti estate was windowless, smelling faintly of damp stone and old paper.
Patricia Voss sat perfectly rigid in a metal chair, her hands folded tightly in her lap. For thirty years, she had been the terrifying enforcer of the household rules. But right now, beneath the harsh glare of a single overhead bulb, she looked small.
Luca stood on the other side of the metal desk. He didn't yell. He didn't threaten. He just placed the clear plastic bag containing the gold wedding band onto the table.
It landed with a heavy clink.
“Explain the ring, Patricia,” Luca said smoothly.
Patricia didn't look at the ring. She kept her eyes fixed on a spot on the wall. “I found it in the laundry many years ago. I kept it in my desk. It means nothing.”
“Do you know who S.B. is?” Luca asked.
“No.”
Hannah, standing near the doorway, let out a shaky breath. She recognized the lie immediately.
“You’re lying,” Hannah said, stepping fully into the room.
Patricia’s eyes snapped to the young housemaid, her upper lip curling in immediate disdain. “Mr. Moretti, are you really allowing the help to interrogate me?”
Luca didn't flinch. “Hannah has more right to be in this room than you do. The ring belongs to her mother.”
Patricia’s confident facade cracked. Just for a second.
Answer one: Patricia knew exactly whose ring it was, and she knew Hannah was Sarah's daughter.
“If you found it in the laundry,” Luca continued, his voice dropping into a dangerous baritone, “why pack it in a duffel bag with fifty thousand dollars and three fake passports?”
“I was taking a vacation,” Patricia said stiffly.
Luca picked up the heavy black leather ledger Marcus had confiscated. He dropped it onto the desk next to the ring.
“And this?” Luca asked, opening the cover.
He flipped through the pages. It wasn't a list of household expenses. It was a detailed log of blackmail payments.
“Twenty thousand dollars on the first of every month,” Luca read aloud, tracing the ink with his finger. “Deposited into a Cayman Islands account. Paid by my father. For seventeen years.”
He looked up at Patricia.
“My father was paying you for your silence.”
Patricia swallowed hard, her throat visibly working.
“He paid you to help him clean up what happened to Sarah Brooks,” Luca said, taking a step around the desk. “Didn't he?”
“I don't know what you’re talking about,” Patricia whispered, her eyes finally showing real fear.
“My grandfather saw him carry her down the back stairs,” Luca pressed, stepping closer. “But my father couldn't have moved her off the estate alone. He needed someone who knew the guard schedules. Someone who controlled the service gates. He needed you.”
Patricia squeezed her eyes shut.
Open two: If Patricia helped dispose of Sarah Brooks, why was she suddenly running tonight? Luca’s father had been dead for six years. What spooked her?
“Look at me, Patricia,” Luca ordered.
She opened her eyes.
“Where did you put her?” Luca asked.
Patricia looked at Luca, then slowly turned her gaze to Hannah. The sheer malice in the older woman’s eyes made Hannah take a step back.
“Your father didn't kill her, Luca,” Patricia said, her voice dripping with venom. “He was too weak for that. He was terrified of the syndicates finding out he let a civilian witness a murder.”
“Then what did he do with her?” Hannah choked out, stepping up to the desk.
Patricia gave a cold, humorless smile.
“He sold her.”
The room went completely silent.
“What?” Luca breathed.
“He sold her to the Petrov syndicate in New York,” Patricia sneered, enjoying the horror on their faces. “They run underground operations. No names. No records. Just ghosts. He traded Sarah Brooks for a shipping route out of Brooklyn. I brokered the deal.”
Hannah felt her knees give way. Luca caught her arm, steadying her before she hit the floor.
Her mother hadn't been murdered and buried in the woods. She had been sold into a nightmare.
“Why run tonight?” Luca demanded, his grip tightening on Hannah’s arm to keep her standing. “My father is dead. The Petrovs never come to Chicago.”
“Because of the clock, you idiot!” Patricia shrieked, losing her composure entirely. “When she fixed the clock tonight, it triggered the fail-safe!”
Luca frowned. “What fail-safe?”
“The lever she moved,” Patricia gasped, pointing a shaking finger at Hannah. “It wasn't just stopping the chime. It was holding a micro-switch in place! When she moved the lever, the switch disengaged. It sent an automated distress signal to the Petrovs.”
Patricia pulled her hands through her perfect gray hair, looking frantic.
“They think we broke the truce! They think we are coming for her!” Patricia cried. “And the Petrovs don't negotiate, Luca. They eliminate.”
Suddenly, Marcus’s radio crackled loudly on his shoulder.
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“Boss!” a guard yelled through the static. “We have three black SUVs crashing through the main gates! Heavily armed men in tactical gear! They’re speaking Russian!”
TITLE: THE RUSSIAN ASSAULT
