Chapter 3 - THE SECRET IN THE PAINTING
Luca stared at the old photograph, his jaw working as if trying to process a reality that was rapidly shifting beneath his feet. The silence in the study was heavy, broken only by the steady tapping of rain against the windowpanes.
"Daniel," Luca called out softly.
The security chief stepped out from the shadows near the doorway. "Sir."
"Take this photograph. Scan it at the highest resolution. Run the woman's face through every private database, hospital record, and nursing license registry in the tri-state area from thirty years ago. I want a name by sunrise."
"Understood, Mr. Moretti," Daniel took the scanned digital copy on his tablet and slipped out the door.
Luca walked over to his liquor cabinet, poured two fingers of amber whiskey, and downed it in one smooth motion. Then he turned back to me.
"Vanessa thinks she has played me for a fool," he said, his dark eyes ablaze. "She believes she can walk into my life, strip away my family's legacy piece by piece, and replace it with her own greed."
"Mr. Moretti... what are you going to do?" I asked nervously.
He walked over to where I sat, resting his large, warm hand gently on my uninjured shoulder. The gesture was surprisingly tender for a man known throughout Chicago's underworld as a ruthless enforcer.
"First, I am securing you," he said firmly. "You are no longer a housekeeper in this mansion, Claire."
My heart jumped into my throat. "Sir?"
"Starting tonight, you are under my direct protection," he clarified. "You will stay in the master guest suite on the top floor. No one—especially not Vanessa or her family—comes near you without my personal permission."
"I can't stay here... Vanessa will suspect something if I'm not doing my duties!"
A cold smile touched Luca's lips. "Let her suspect. Let her stew in her own arrogance. She thinks she holds power over you because of money. She is about to learn that money is meaningless in my world."
Just then, the study door flew open without a knock.
Vanessa stood on the threshold, her red silk dress trailing behind her, a look of pure rage painted across her face.
"Luca!" she snapped, ignoring my presence entirely. "Your guests are leaving! You disappeared from our engagement dinner for over an hour! What on earth is the meaning of—"
She stopped dead in her tracks when her eyes landed on me sitting comfortably in Luca's leather armchair, a medical sling supporting my arm.
Vanessa’s expression instantly turned murderous.
"What is she doing in your office?" Vanessa demanded, taking a sharp step forward. "Luca, why are you entertaining a clumsy servant who broke estate protocol?"
Luca didn't flinch. He didn't even raise his voice. He simply leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms.
"She didn't break protocol, Vanessa," Luca said smoothly. "She was saving something precious to me."
Vanessa's face went pale, but she quickly recovered, folding her arms across her chest. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"The carriage house," Luca said simply. "The new padlock. The shipment crate bound for Philadelphia."
Vanessa’s breath hitched, but she forced a condescending laugh. "Oh, that! Luca, darling, I was going to surprise you! I was having your parents' old portrait professionally restored and cleaned in Philadelphia as a wedding gift! The frame was decaying—"
"The frame was solid teak, custom-built by my father," Luca interrupted, his voice dropping an octave. "And the dealer in Philadelphia is a known fence for stolen high-end art."
Vanessa’s lips parted, but no sound came out.
"You lied to me," Luca continued, stepping slowly toward her. "You claimed Claire hurt herself moving furniture. But I watched the security footage, Vanessa. I saw you throw her against a cabinet because she tried to stop your men."
Vanessa shot a lethal glare toward me. "She’s lying! She set this up! You're going to take the word of a minimum-wage maid over your future wife?!"
"I trust her eyes more than I trust your tongue," Luca cold-bloodedly retorted. "Because her eyes don't lie to me."
Vanessa's eyes narrowed into slits. She realized her cover was blown, but instead of backing down, she straightened her back, leaning into the formidable power of the Bellini family name.
"Careful, Luca," she hissed softly. "Our wedding is five days away. The merger between the Moretti syndicate and the Bellini family depends entirely on that ring on my finger. You insult me over a servant, and my father will pull every political and financial asset out of your turf."
Luca stood inches from her face, towering over her with overwhelming authority.
"Tell your father to try," Luca whispered darkly. "And as for the wedding... it's still happening."
Vanessa blinked, caught off guard by his sudden turn. "What?"
"We are going to have our wedding, Vanessa," Luca said with a dark, terrifying smirk. "Every guest, every politician, every mob boss in the Midwest will be in attendance. And you will play the perfect bride... until I decide to pull the curtain back."
May you like
Vanessa shuddered under his terrifying gaze. She backed out of the room without another word, her heavy heels clicking angrily down the marble hallway.
Luca turned back to me. "Get some rest, Claire. Tomorrow, the real storm begins."
