Chapter 2 - THE MAN AT THE TABLE
The silence in the dining room was absolute. Forty wealthy guests stared at the man standing beside Luca Moretti. His name was Marcus Thorne. He was Luca’s underboss. His most trusted advisor. The man who had managed the Moretti family’s legitimate businesses for the last seven years. And an eleven-year-old girl in an oversized red coat had just called him "Daddy." Marcus’s face froze into a mask of complete shock. He looked down at the little girl, then shot a desperate, wide-eyed glance at Luca. "I have no idea who this child is," Marcus said. His voice was smooth. Too smooth. "She must be confused. I've never seen her before in my life." Lily’s smile faltered. Her small hands tightened around the tiny silver bracelet she had bought with her allowance. "Daddy?" she whispered, taking a step toward him. "It's me. Lily. You told Mommy you were going to marry her. You said we were going to live in a big house." Vanessa let out a choked sob, pressing both hands over her mouth. She looked terrified. Not of Luca. Of Marcus. Luca didn't look at his fiancée. His dark eyes locked onto his underboss. "Marcus," Luca said quietly. "Why is this child calling you her father?" "It's a shakedown, Luca," Marcus said, straightening his tie. "This old woman and this kid are grifters. Vanessa probably paid them off once out of charity, and now they're trying to extort us in front of your guests." Helen gasped, her hand flying to her chest. "We are not extorting anyone!" the elderly woman cried out. "He came to our apartment, Mr. Moretti! He brought her a bicycle for her birthday. He ate my pot roast!" Marcus took a step toward Helen, his eyes narrowing into cold slits. "Shut your mouth, old woman, before I have security throw you onto the street." I couldn't take it anymore. I stepped directly between Marcus Thorne and the seventy-three-year-old woman. "Don't you speak to her that way," I said. My heart was hammering against my ribs. I was a twenty-five-year-old maid wearing a black uniform and a white apron. Marcus was a man who could destroy my life with a single phone call. But I felt Lily grab the fabric of my apron, hiding behind my legs, and my fear vanished into pure anger. Marcus glared at me. "Get out of my way, Hannah." "No." Luca’s voice sliced through the tension like a blade. "Step back from my housekeeper, Marcus." Marcus stopped. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Luca, be reasonable. Are you going to believe a maid and a street rat over the man who helped you build this empire?" "I'm going to believe the evidence," Luca said. He walked slowly toward Lily. He knelt down so he was eye-level with the trembling eleven-year-old. "Sweetheart," Luca said, his voice astonishingly gentle. "You said you bought a bracelet for your mother?" Lily nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. She held out the tiny silver bracelet. "Let me see it," Luca said. He took the cheap silver jewelry from her small palm. He turned it over under the light of the crystal chandelier. Then, he looked at the inside of the clasp. Luca’s expression turned to stone. "Vanessa," Luca said without looking up. "Did Marcus give you this?" Vanessa couldn't speak. She was shaking violently. "Answer me," Luca commanded. "Yes," Vanessa whispered. "He gave it to Lily to give to me. He said it was a placeholder." Marcus cursed under his breath. "She's lying! I bought that bracelet for my niece!" "Your niece?" Luca stood up. He held the bracelet out. "Then why does the inside of this clasp have a custom engraving?" Marcus went pale. Luca read the inscription aloud. "To Vanessa. My queen. Soon, we’ll have it all. M.T." The guests began to murmur. The reversal was absolute. Marcus hadn't just been visiting Vanessa. He had been plotting with her. "Empty your pockets, Marcus," Luca said. "Luca, you're embarrassing yourself," Marcus tried to laugh. "Empty them. Now." Two of Luca's massive security guards stepped forward, blocking the dining room exits. Marcus’s hands shook as he reached into his tailored suit jacket. He pulled out his wallet, his keys, and a silver money clip, tossing them onto the dining table. But as he pulled his hand out, something caught on the silk lining of his pocket. It fell to the hardwood floor with a sharp, metallic clink. I looked down. It was a velvet jewelry pouch. The tie had come loose. And spilling out onto the floor were two massive, teardrop diamond earrings. I heard Luca draw a sharp breath. Forty guests went dead silent. Because everyone in Chicago’s high society knew those earrings. They were the exact diamonds Luca’s mother had been wearing the night she was murdered fifteen years ago.
