Chapter 5 - THE BROTHER IN THE ATTIC
The silence that fell over the grand dining hall was heavier and colder than any threat Victor Vance had ever uttered.
The federal agents holding Vanessa's arms paused, looking back and forth between the weeping socialite and the pale, rigid figure of Luca Moretti. Even Assistant U.S. Attorney Alvarez lowered his arrest warrant folder, sensing that the corporate corruption case had just collided with something far darker and more personal.
Luca took two slow steps toward Vanessa, his boots clicking sharply against the marble floor. His face had gone completely bloodless, the color draining from his skin until he looked like a statue carved from gray stone.
"What did you just say?" Luca repeated, his voice dropping into a register so quiet and terrifying that even the federal agents stepped back a fraction of an inch. "What other son?"
Vanessa tilted her chin up, a manic, defiant gleam in her eyes. She had nothing left to lose, and she knew it. She wanted to burn the house down around us on her way out.
"Oh, did nobody tell you?" Vanessa laughed, a harsh, brittle sound. "For all your money, your power, and your little federal task forces, Luca... you really are an idiot. You think Salvatore was the only one your father hid away? Ask your precious mother about the boy she gave up to the orphanage in Milwaukee forty years ago—the twin brother you never knew existed."
My breath caught in my throat. I looked toward the end of the banquet table.
Mrs. Moretti had slumped completely forward, her forehead resting against the edge of the mahogany table, her hands clutching her floral dress so tightly her knuckles were translucent.
"Ma," Luca breathed, abandoning his pursuit of Vanessa as he rushed to his mother's side. He dropped to his knees, ignoring the broken glass and spilled wine on the floor. "Ma, look at me. Tell me she's lying. Tell me that crazy bitch is lying!"
Mrs. Moretti didn't lift her head. Her shoulders shook with silent, racked sobs that seemed to tear right out of her chest.
"She's... she's not lying, Luciano," she choked out, her voice barely a whisper against the polished wood.
The federal agents escorted Vanessa and Victor out through the splintered foyer doors, their footsteps fading into the rainy night air. The thirty-two guests sat frozen, too terrified or too polite to move, until Assistant U.S. Attorney Alvarez cleared his throat quietly.
"Mr. Moretti," Alvarez said, stepping forward. "We'll... we'll secure the premises and finish processing the files. My team will be in touch tomorrow regarding the testimony."
"Get out," Luca said without turning around.
Alvarez didn't argue. He nodded to his agents, and within two minutes, the mansion was cleared of everyone except the staff, the two of us, and an eighty-one-year-old mother who looked as though she had finally broken under the weight of a lifetime of secrets.
I quietly stepped away from the dessert cart, walking over to the sideboard to grab a clean glass of water. My hands were shaking so badly the crystal clinked against the tray. I carried it over and knelt beside Luca on the sticky marble floor.
"Mrs. Moretti," I said gently, holding out the glass. "Please, drink a little water."
She slowly lifted her head. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed and hollow. She didn't take the glass, but she reached out and caught my wrist with surprising strength.
"Hannah," she whispered, her voice cracking. "You stayed. Even when I told you to go... you stayed."
"I'm not going anywhere, Mrs. Moretti," I said softly.
Luca looked up at me, his dark eyes shimmering with unshed tears—the first time I had ever seen vulnerability in the man who ran half of Chicago.
"A twin," Luca whispered, running a shaking hand through his dark hair, leaving a smudge of white plaster dust across his forehead. "I have a brother? For forty years... you kept a brother from me?"
"It wasn't a choice, Luciano," she wept, her voice breaking into ragged pieces. "When you and your twin were born... things were different. Your father was deep in debt to the North Side syndicate. They threatened to take one of you as collateral if Salvatore didn't sign over his share of the docks. In the middle of the night, while your father was hiding from them, I had to... I had to give one of my babies to a nurse who promised she would take him across the state line to safety."
She covered her face with her trembling hands.
"I never saw him again. I didn't even know what name they gave him. Every birthday of yours, Luciano, I bought two cakes. One for the boy sitting at my table... and one for the ghost I sent away in the dark."
Luca stared at her, the anger completely draining out of him, leaving behind a profound, devastating grief. He pulled his mother into his arms, burying his face in her silver hair, holding her the way a terrified child holds his mother during a storm.
"We'll find him, Ma," Luca whispered fiercely against her ear. "I swear to you, on everything I own, I will find my brother."
"You won't have to look very far," a voice said from the shadows of the arched doorway.
We all froze.
Standing in the entryway, holding a heavy leather briefcase and wearing a simple dark trench coat soaked with rain, was a man in his early forties.
He had the exact same dark hair as Luca, the same strong jawline, and the same piercing, intelligent eyes. But unlike Luca’s tailored three-piece suit, his clothes were worn, practical, and dusted with flour from the bakery he owned on the south side of the city.
He looked around the ruined dining hall, taking in the shattered crystal, the federal police tape fluttering in the foyer, and the two men kneeling on the floor.
May you like
Then his eyes landed on my face, before shifting slowly to meet Luca's stunned gaze.
"Good evening, brother," the man said quietly, stepping across the threshold. "I think it's time we talked about why Mom's second cake never had a candle on it."
