Chapter 3 - Shadows in the Study
The second-floor study of the Moretti mansion was a sanctuary of dark mahogany paneling, leather-bound books, and old amber whiskey decanters that smelled of aged oak and expensive tobacco. Outside the tall arched windows, the Chicago rain continued to lash against the glass, blurring the distant neon lights of the city into bleeding smears of red and blue.
I gently guided Samuel toward the plush leather armchair beside the unlit fireplace, wrapping a heavy wool throw blanket around his shivering shoulders. The boy looked impossibly small swallowed by the oversized furniture, clutching his father’s old coat across his lap like a shield against an invisible enemy.
"Stay here, Sammy," I said softly, crouching down beside his chair and handing him a glass of warm water from the mahogany side table. "Your brother is going to sort everything out. You’re safe now."
Samuel took the glass with trembling hands, staring down at the water’s surface where a single tear had just splashed. "Hannah... do you think he's really going to let me stay? Or is Vanessa going to convince him again?"
"She's not going to convince him of anything ever again," I replied firmly, though a knot of cold dread twisted tightly in my stomach. I knew what the Moretti family was capable of. I knew the kind of power Luca wielded in the underworld—and I knew what kind of enemies people like Vanessa Bellini had behind the scenes. Exposing a lie in front of high-society elites was one thing; unravelling a deeper, darker conspiracy rooted in a dying man's final hours was entirely another.
Before Samuel could answer, the heavy oak study door clicked open.
Luca walked in.
His suit jacket was gone, his crisp white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the intricate web of dark tattoos that wound up his forearms—symbols of his syndicate’s history, his father’s legacy, and the heavy burdens he had carried since he was just a boy himself. His face was a mask of cold, unreadable marble, but the muscle ticking rhythmically along his jawline betrayed the boiling fury raging beneath the surface.
He walked straight to Samuel’s chair, dropping heavily to one knee once more.
"Sammy," Luca’s voice was remarkably gentle, contrasting sharply with the terrifying aura that still clung to him from the ballroom confrontation. "Are you warm enough?"
Samuel nodded, sniffing slightly. "Where's Vanessa?"
"Vanessa is gone, buddy," Luca said quietly. "She left. She won't be coming back here."
The boy’s eyes widened in disbelief. "She left? But... what about the wedding?"
"There isn't going to be a wedding," Luca replied, a shadow passing briefly across his dark eyes. "Not with her. Not ever."
Samuel let out a long, shaky breath, the tension visibly draining from his frail shoulders for the first time in months. "She told me... she told me you hated me. She said I was a constant reminder of the weakness Dad showed at the end. She said you wanted a clean slate."
Luca closed his eyes for a second, his jaw tightening so hard I thought bone might fracture. When he opened them, they burned with a fierce, protective intensity.
"Listen to me very carefully, Samuel," Luca said, his voice dropping an octave, steady and absolute. "Your father was the strongest man I ever knew. And loving you—taking care of you—was never a weakness. It was his greatest pride. And it is mine."
May you like
He reached out and gently touched the hem of their late father's old coat resting across the boy's lap. "Now... tell me everything she said to Aunt June last Sunday. Every single word. Leave nothing out."
Samuel swallowed hard, his young eyes darting between his brother and me before he began to speak, unspooling a web of deceit that would shake the foundations of the Moretti empire.
