Chapter 6 - The Setup
The night of the Moretti Foundation Centennial Gala arrived with the grandeur of a royal coronation.
Fleet upon fleet of black limousines lined the private drive of the Lake Forest estate. Inside the great ballroom, crystal chandeliers reflected off towering mirrors, illuminating senators, foreign dignitaries, tech titans, and the cultural elite of the Midwest.
Emma wore a simple, elegant midnight-blue silk gown that Isabella had insisted on commissioning for her. Her hair was pinned in an elegant updo, revealing the graceful line of her neck. She stood near Isabella’s wheelchair at the edge of the dais, ensuring the matriarch was comfortable as guests approached to pay their respects.
Standing a few feet away, Vincent was engaged in discussion with the Governor of Illinois, but Emma could feel his gaze drifting toward her every few minutes. Every time their eyes met, a quiet, unspoken understanding passed between them.
Then, the double doors of the ballroom opened, and a ripple of quiet murmurs washed across the room.
Richard Moretti strode into the hall. On his arm was Victoria Langford.
Victoria looked radiant in a crimson ballgown, her chin held high in defiant arrogance. She walked as if she hadn't been publicly humiliated only weeks prior, though the cold fury in her eyes told a different story.
Emma stiffened. Beside her, Isabella's grip tightened on the armrest of her wheelchair.
"What is she doing here?" Isabella whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
Vincent had already excused himself from the governor. His jaw was set like carved granite as he intercepted Richard and Victoria near the champagne fountain.
"You have ten seconds to explain why she is in my house, Richard," Vincent said, his voice dropping into that terrifying, icy register that signaled imminent destruction.
Richard offered a greasy, confident grin. "Relax, cousin. Victoria is my personal guest. The Langford family is still a legacy member of the Foundation. You can control the company, Vincent, but according to the bylaws, every board trustee has the right to bring a guest of their choosing to the Centennial."
Victoria offered a sickeningly sweet smile. "Good evening, Vincent. I’m simply here to celebrate the Moretti legacy. Surely you wouldn't cause a scene in front of the press?"
Vincent didn't flinch. "Enjoy the appetizers, Victoria. Because before the night is over, you will regret setting foot across my threshold."
He turned on his heel and walked straight back to Emma and his mother. "Julian," Vincent snapped quietly to his chief of staff. "Double the security detail in the private wings. Keep two guards on Miss Carter and my mother at all times."
"Right away, sir," Julian murmured, vanishing into the crowd.
An hour later, the formal speeches were set to begin.
Isabella turned to Emma, looking pale and fatigued. "Emma, dear... I feel a bit faint. The noise is too much. Would you take me to the private sitting room upstairs for just a few minutes?"
"Of course," Emma said immediately.
Emma wheeled Isabella into the elevator and up to the second-floor master suite. The quiet was a welcome relief from the thunderous chatter below. Emma helped Isabella onto the plush chaise lounge, tucking a soft cashmere throw over her legs.
"The brooch," Isabella murmured, touching the front of her gown. "It feels heavy, Emma. Would you take it off and place it on my vanity?"
"Of course," Emma unpinned the magnificent Romanov Sapphire brooch and walked into the adjacent dressing room, placing it securely inside the velvet-lined jewelry box on the marble vanity.
"I'll go downstairs and fetch you some fresh lemon water," Emma said, kissing Isabella's forehead gently.
"Thank you, darling," Isabella smiled, closing her eyes.
Emma took the back service stairs to avoid the crowds, heading toward the kitchen. But as she returned to the second floor five minutes later with the water, she found the hallway outside the master suite swarming with people.
Richard Moretti stood in the center of the corridor, looking distressed. Beside him stood Victoria Langford, along with four estate security guards and two uniformed Chicago police officers who had been stationed at the gate for VIP escort.
"What's going on?" Emma asked, quickening her pace.
Richard turned, pointing an accusatory finger directly at her chest. "There she is! Detain her!"
The two police officers stepped forward, blocking Emma’s path. "Miss, please set the glass down and keep your hands where we can see them."
"What are you talking about?" Emma demanded, her heart seizing with sudden dread. "Is Isabella all right?"
"Cut the innocent act, Carter!" Victoria sneered, stepping forward from behind Richard, her eyes dancing with triumphant malice. "Evelyn just went into the dressing room to bring Mrs. Moretti her shawl, and the Romanov Sapphire is gone!"
From behind the police officers, a middle-aged maid with red, nervous eyes stepped forward, wringing her apron. "I... I saw Miss Carter coming out of the dressing room with something stuffed into her pocket just minutes ago! I swear it on my mother's life!"
"That's a lie!" Emma cried out. "I put it in the jewelry box on the vanity! Isabella watched me do it!"
"My aunt is half-asleep and recovering from a stroke," Richard barked loudly, ensuring his voice carried down the grand staircase toward the ballroom guests who were already beginning to gather at the base of the stairs. "She doesn't know what she saw! Officer, search this girl's quarters immediately. She's been living in the east guest suite."
"You have no right—" Emma began, but the lead officer held up a hand.
"Miss Carter, grand larceny of a four-million-dollar heirloom is a federal offense. We have an eyewitness statement. Step aside."
The group marched down the corridor toward Emma's private room. Emma followed, her hands shaking, cold dread flooding her veins. She knew instantly what this was. A frame-up. A perfectly orchestrated ambush designed to ruin her and strip Vincent of his dignity.
The officer pushed open the door to Emma’s bedroom.
Richard walked straight to the mahogany wardrobe, pointing at Emma's canvas tote bag resting on the lower shelf. "Check that bag. That's what she brings to and from the city."
The officer unzipped the bag. He reached inside, moving past a notebook and a sweater.
His hand paused.
Slowly, the officer pulled his hand out.
Gleaming under the recessed lights, nestled in the palm of his black leather glove, was the Romanov Sapphire brooch.
A collective gasp echoed through the doorway. Victoria let out a theatrical laugh of disgust.
"Look at that," Victoria proclaimed, looking down at Emma with pure, unadulterated hatred. "The loyal little angel. Chicago's favorite Cinderella turns out to be nothing more than a gutter rat."
Emma felt the room spin. The walls seemed to close in around her. "I didn't do this... I swear to God, I didn't touch that brooch after I put it in the box!"
"Save it for the judge, Miss Carter," the officer said, reaching for his handcuffs. "Turn around and place your hands behind your back."
"Don't you dare touch her."
The voice sounded like the crack of winter thunder.
May you like
The crowd parted instantly. Vincent Moretti strode into the room, his eyes blazing with a fury so terrifying that the police officer froze with the cuffs half-opened in midair.
***
