Chapter 6 - The Penthouse Trap
The Chicago skyline outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Moretti downtown penthouse looked like a circuit board glowing in the dark. Rain beat a relentless tattoo against the glass, distorting the neon signs of the Loop below.
Julian Moretti stood by the wet bar, pouring a glass of scotch with effortless, arrogant composure. He wore an expensive charcoal cashmere sweater, his silver-rimmed glasses catching the dim ambient light. When the private elevator chime chimed and the heavy mahogany doors slid open, he didn't even turn around immediately.
"Vance," Julian said smoothly, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "I told you I wanted to review the European shipping manifests tomorrow morning, not tonight. Why are you—"
He stopped mid-sentence as he turned around.
Luca stepped out of the elevator first, his shoulders squared, his face carved from granite. Vance followed close behind, his hand resting near his sidearm. And right behind them, stepping cautiously onto the polished marble floor, was me.
Julian’s eyes flicked over Luca, lingered for a fraction of a second on Vance, and then locked onto my face. The color drained from his elegant features, leaving him looking suddenly old and trapped.
"Well," Julian said, forcing a thin, brittle smile as he set his glass down on the glass-topped bar. "Family reunions are always so full of surprises. Though I didn't expect the kitchen staff to be joining us in the penthouse tonight."
"Cut the charm, Julian," Luca’s voice was a low, lethal purr as he advanced slowly across the room. "The audio file from Sarah's personal server decrypted itself nicely this afternoon. Along with the digital paper trail showing the wire transfers you made to Agent Miller three years ago to close the brake-line investigation."
Julian’s smile vanished completely. The mask of the charming younger brother slipped away, revealing the cold, calculating opportunist underneath. He didn't cower. Instead, he let out a short, dry laugh, reaching calmly into his jacket pocket.
"Sarah was always too clever for her own good," Julian said smoothly. "And Elena... well, Elena was steering the family into a soft, vulnerable era, Luca. She wanted us out of the port syndicates. She wanted legitimacy. If she and Sophia had survived that morning, the board would have voted to strip our family of its core assets within a year. I did what was necessary to preserve the Moretti empire."
"You killed my wife," Luca said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, quiet register that made the air in the room feel heavy and unbreathable. "And you tried to kill my daughter."
"I cut the brakes, yes," Julian admitted with chilling indifference, his fingers still resting inside his coat pocket. "The car seat jam was just a little insurance policy in case the river current didn't finish the job. But you have to admit, brother—it was a masterpiece of efficiency. Until a meddling waitress with a hero complex decided to crawl into a freezing river."
Julian’s hand suddenly whipped out of his pocket, clutching a compact sub-compact pistol aimed directly at my chest.
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"And unfortunately, Hannah arrived just a little too late to save herself from making the same mistake twice," Julian snarled, his finger tightening on the trigger.
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