Chapter 4 - THE TWISTED MERGER
The next morning, the Moretti mansion felt like a fortress on high alert. Armed guards stood at every entrance, and the atmosphere was thick with tension.
I woke up in a luxurious king-sized bed in the grand guest wing. A private nurse came in at 8:00 AM to check my shoulder and administer medication. For the first time in my life, I wasn't rushing to scrub floors or empty trash bins.
At 10:00 AM, Mrs. Carter knocked on my door, holding a beautiful dark blue silk dress.
"Mr. Moretti requests your presence in the private dining room for breakfast," she said with a warm smile. "And he asked me to make sure you were comfortable."
"Mrs. Carter... is this really happening?" I asked, still feeling like I was living inside a bizarre dream. "I'm just a housekeeper."
"My dear," Mrs. Carter placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Luca Moretti hasn't cared about a woman's social standing in his entire life. He cares about loyalty. And yesterday, you proved you have more loyalty than the entire Bellini family combined."
Ten minutes later, I walked down the grand staircase wearing the blue silk dress.
When I entered the private dining room, Luca was sitting at the head of the long table, dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, reading a thick file. Sitting across from him, looking thoroughly miserable, was Vanessa Bellini and an older, broad-shouldered man with grey hair and a stern face—her father, Victor Bellini.
When I entered, Victor stopped talking and stared at me with intense disdain.
"Is this the maid?" Victor growled, his voice deep and gravelly. "Luca, you brought my daughter and me here at 10 AM to sit at a table with your household staff?"
"Sit down, Claire," Luca said calmly, ignoring Victor completely and pointing to the empty chair right beside him—the seat of honor.
I cautiously walked over and sat down. Vanessa looked like she was about to explode with rage, her hands clenched so tight her acrylic nails were digging into her palms.
"Luca, this is absurd!" Vanessa barked. "You're humiliating me!"
"Shut up, Vanessa," Luca said, his tone devoid of any emotion. He threw the thick file onto the center of the table. "Victor, take a look at page four."
Victor grumbled, reaching forward to open the folder. As he flipped through the pages, his arrogant expression slowly dissolved into sheer horror.
"What is this?" Victor whispered, his face turning pale.
"That," Luca explained, leaning forward, "is a detailed financial audit of the Bellini shipping ports in South Chicago. It turns out, Victor, your family hasn't been merging with me out of strength. You're completely bankrupt."
Vanessa gasped. "Father?!"
"You owe thirty million dollars to the Eastern European cartels," Luca continued relentlessly. "And your plan was to marry Vanessa to me, steal my family's priceless art collection to pay off your immediate debts, and quietly bleed the Moretti treasury dry over the next three years."
Victor slammed his fist on the table. "This is slander! You have no proof!"
"The two delivery men Vanessa hired yesterday are currently sitting in my basement," Luca replied casually, taking a slow sip of his black coffee. "They were very talkative once Daniel asked them nicely. They confessed that Vanessa promised them a ten percent cut of the painting's black-market sale."
Vanessa looked at her father in terror. "Luca... please, it was just art! We were desperate!"
"It wasn't just art," I spoke up, my voice surprisingly steady despite the fear racing through me.
Everyone at the table turned to look at me.
"What did you say, girl?" Victor snarled at me.
I looked Victor straight in the eyes. "The portrait was a cover. Vanessa didn't just want the painting. She wanted the photograph hidden behind it."
Luca’s eyes gleamed with pride as he looked at me. He pulled the vintage photograph out of his inner jacket pocket and placed it on the table right between Victor and Vanessa.
The moment Victor Bellini saw the woman in the white nurse's uniform, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened in absolute, undeniable horror.
"Where... where did you get this?" Victor stammered, his hands visibly shaking as he reached for the photo.
"Do you know her, Victor?" Luca asked, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper. "Because my mother wrote on the back that this woman was her sweetest secret. And Vanessa threatened to ruin Claire's life just to keep this photo hidden."
Victor looked at his daughter, then back at Luca. "Luca... you don't know what you're digging into. Leave this alone. Take the estate, take my shipping ports, cancel the merger, do whatever you want! But burn this photograph!"
Luca leaned over the table, his presence suffocating the room.
"Tell me who she is, Victor," Luca demanded. "Or I release these financial audits to the cartels by noon. And you know what they do to men who owe them thirty million dollars."
Victor swallowed hard, sweating profusely. He looked at the photograph again, his voice trembling.
"Her name... her name was Teresa Vance," Victor whispered. "She wasn't just a nurse, Luca. Thirty years ago... she was the chief midwife at the private clinic where your mother gave birth."
Luca frowned. "And why was she a secret?"
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Victor looked up, his eyes filled with genuine dread.
"Because Eleanor Moretti didn't give birth to a boy that night, Luca," Victor revealed softly. "She gave birth to a baby girl who died three hours after delivery. You weren't born a Moretti. Teresa Vance brought you to the hospital in a laundry basket from an unknown mother... and sold you to Eleanor to save the Moretti bloodline."
