Chapter 2 - Shadows of the Estate
The heavy oak doors of the Moretti study closed with a muted thud, shutting out the cool afternoon breeze and the silent guards standing post in the hallway.
Grace stood near the center of the room, her hands tightly clutched together. Titan had followed them inside, unceremoniously slumping his heavy frame onto the Persian rug at Grace’s feet, his chin resting comfortably over her shoe.
Luca walked behind a massive mahogany desk, but he didn't sit. He poured a glass of water from a crystal decanter and offered it to her.
"I don't want water, Mr. Moretti," Grace said, her voice strained. "I want to know why my father’s handwriting was delivered to your gate three days ago. If Samuel Walker is alive, where has he been for twelve years? And why did you let me believe he was dead?"
Luca placed the glass on the desk. His dark eyes remained fixed on her face, reading her reactions with analytical precision.
"Twelve years ago, your father was a master artisan," Luca began, his voice low and measured. "He wasn't just a man who fixed up old furniture or rescued strays in Albany. Samuel Walker was one of the few craftsmen in North America who understood ancient mechanical lockwork and high-security vaults."
Grace frowned. "My father was a carpenter."
"That was his cover," Luca corrected gently. "And it worked—until my father, Marco Moretti, hired him to build something that could never be opened by conventional means."
Grace looked down at Titan, then back at Luca. "A safe?"
"A vault," Luca said. "Buried beneath the foundations of our original family estate in Upstate New York. It held evidence that could dismantle half the corrupt political and criminal networks in this city. But the night your father finished the vault, someone betrayed my family. An ambush was launched. My father was killed. I was twenty-two years old, bleeding out in the back of an armored car."
Grace caught her breath. "And Samuel?"
"Your father dragged me out of that burning vehicle," Luca said, a rare warmth breaking through his icy exterior. "He hid me in a workshop three miles away. He stitched my wounds himself. But he knew the men who killed my father would come for him next—and more importantly, they would come for you."
Grace felt a sudden chill sweep through her veins. "So he staged his own death."
"He had to," Luca insisted. "If the syndicate believed Samuel was alive, they would have taken nineteen-year-old Grace Walker and tortured her until he opened that vault for them. Samuel traded his entire life, his identity, and his relationship with his only daughter to keep you invisible."
Grace staggered back a step, bumping against the edge of an armchair. Twelve years of grief, confusion, and loneliness surged up in her throat. She had spent over a decade wondering why her father’s truck had burned on a forgotten country road. She had spent birthdays alone, believing she was an orphan.
"He left me," she whispered, tears finally threatening to spill from her eyes. "He left me all alone."
"He didn't leave you unprotected," Luca said, stepping out from behind the desk. "He brought Titan to me three days after his staged death. He asked me to keep the dog as a living marker. Samuel told me, 'If the day ever comes where my daughter is in danger, Titan will recognize her. And you will keep her safe.'"
May you like
Grace stared at him, her heart hammering against her ribs. "If he’s been hiding for twelve years, why break the silence now? Why send that note?"
Luca’s expression darkened. "Because the men who killed my father have finally located the vault. And three days ago, they realized they can't open it without Samuel Walker—or his bloodline."
