Chapter 2 - THE DINNER PARTY IS OVER
The silence in the grand hallway was so heavy it felt hard to breathe.
Thirty of Chicago’s wealthiest elites stood frozen in the adjacent dining room, their champagne flutes suspended in mid-air. They had come for a celebration. Instead, they were witnessing the unraveling of Vanessa Bellini.
Luca didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. The quiet, deadly calm in his tone was exactly what had earned him his reputation on the streets and in the boardrooms.
“Elias,” Luca said, not taking his eyes off his fiancée.
From the shadows of the corridor, the head of estate security stepped forward. Elias was a towering man in a charcoal suit who had served the Moretti family for twenty years.
“Yes, Mr. Moretti.”
“Clear the house. The engagement dinner is canceled.”
A collective gasp echoed from the dining room.
Vanessa’s pale face flushed a violent crimson. “Luca, you can’t be serious! The mayor is in there. The governor’s chief of staff. You are going to humiliate me in front of the entire city over a pile of rotting wood?”
“It isn’t rotting wood,” Luca said, his voice dropping another octave. “It is my father’s legacy. And my son’s gift.”
He turned to Elias. “Five minutes. Anyone still inside after that can explain themselves to me personally.”
It took less than three. The sound of expensive heels clicking hurriedly across marble floors and the murmurs of shocked guests faded into the night.
Claire stood by the staircase, her hand still throbbing from the burn. She kept her body positioned slightly in front of Matteo, shielding the boy from Vanessa’s erratic energy. Matteo’s small hands were gripping the fabric of Claire’s black housekeeping dress.
When the front doors finally clicked shut, the mansion was tomb-silent.
Vanessa dropped her polite facade entirely. She threw her champagne glass into the fireplace. It shattered against the stone, sending shards raining over the ashes of the fire that had almost consumed Matteo’s box.
“You are making a massive mistake, Luca,” she hissed, her chest heaving. “My family is the only reason the zoning board is looking the other way on your Southside development. You need me.”
“I need a wife,” Luca corrected coldly. “Not a parasite who tortures a twelve-year-old boy.”
“He is soft!” Vanessa snapped, pointing a manicured finger at Matteo. “Just like you are becoming! Clinging to an old garage, weeping over a dead old man. You are the head of the Moretti family, Luca. Act like it. I was doing you a favor. I hired the contractors to tear down that eyesore, and I sold those rusty tools to a scrap dealer this morning.”
Luca’s jaw tightened. “You sold my father’s tools.”
“Yes. For pennies. Because that’s all they were worth.”
Luca walked slowly toward her. The sheer menace radiating from him made Vanessa take a step back.
“Elias,” Luca said softly.
“Sir.”
“Bring me Vanessa’s purse.”
“Luca, what are you doing? You have no right!” she shrieked as Elias retrieved the designer handbag from the entryway table and handed it to his boss.
Luca didn’t dig through it. He simply turned the bag upside down and dumped the contents onto the Persian rug. Lipstick, a gold compact, car keys, and a crumpled pink receipt tumbled out.
Luca picked up the receipt. He read it.
The color drained from his face, replaced by a storm of pure, unadulterated fury.
He didn’t look at Vanessa. He looked at Elias.
“She didn’t sell the tools to a scrap dealer,” Luca whispered, the paper crinkling in his fist. “She sold them to the Falcone family.”
Claire felt her breath catch. Even as a maid, she knew that name. The Falcones were the Morettis' oldest, bloodiest rivals in Chicago.
Vanessa’s lips trembled. “It… it was just a business transaction, Luca. They offered top dollar for vintage—”
“They bought my father’s tools to mount them as trophies,” Luca said, his voice deadly quiet. He finally looked up, his eyes entirely black. “And they paid you fifty thousand dollars for the privilege.”
Vanessa backed away, but Luca stepped forward, his foot crushing her gold compact on the rug.
“Get out of my house.”
May you like
Vanessa’s fear suddenly vanished, replaced by a twisted, victorious smile.
“I’m not going anywhere, darling,” she purred, reaching into the pile of her spilled belongings and pulling out a heavy, folded document. “Because as of nine o’clock this morning at City Hall… we are already legally married.”
