Chapter 3 - THE LOCKET'S SECRET
Vanessa stumbled backward, her designer heels scraping against the concrete. The color completely drained from her face. “Luca, please,” she stammered, raising her hands. “I can explain.” “Explain?” Luca’s voice was dangerously calm. He held up the silver locket, the photograph of Vanessa and his exiled brother mocking him under the harsh garage lights. “You infiltrated my home. You shared my bed. You tried to silence my mother. And now you’ve handed my daughter over to the man who swore to destroy me.”
Answer One, Open Two. Vanessa was Dominic’s inside woman. But what was their endgame? If Dominic just wanted to hurt Luca, there were easier ways than kidnapping an eight-year-old girl. What did Sophie have that Dominic needed? “Dominic isn’t going to hurt her!” Vanessa pleaded, tears finally spilling down her cheeks. “He loves me, Luca. He just needed the leverage! You took everything from him when you banished him. He just wants his rightful share of the legitimate businesses!”
“Lock her in the wine cellar,” Luca ordered his approaching guards, not taking his eyes off her. “If she speaks to anyone, you answer to me.” As the men dragged a sobbing Vanessa away, Luca turned to his head of security, Carlo. A tall, heavily scarred man who had served the Moretti family for twenty years. “Carlo. Get the cars. We’re hunting my brother.” Carlo nodded sharply and ran toward the fleet of black sedans.
I turned to go back inside. My hands were shaking. I was just a maid trying to pay her mother’s medical bills. I had stepped into a war zone. “Hannah.” Luca’s voice stopped me. I turned around. He was looking at me, the fierce anger in his eyes softened by a sudden, desperate exhaustion. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For listening to my mother. For finding the locket.” “I just want Sophie to be safe, sir,” I replied.
May you like
I hurried back into the dining room. The guests had fled, escorted out by security. The massive room was empty except for Teresa Moretti, still sitting in her wheelchair near the table. I rushed to her side. “Mrs. Moretti, Luca is going after them. He knows about Vanessa.” Teresa’s eyes were wide, filled with a frantic energy. She grabbed my apron, pulling me down to her level. Her jaw worked fiercely. She was fighting her own failing body to form the words. “Not... Mich... igan...” she gasped. I frowned. Vanessa had said Dominic was taking Sophie to a safe house in Michigan. “He’s not going to Michigan?” I asked. Teresa shook her head violently. She pointed a trembling finger toward the grand staircase, then specifically at the large, antique oil painting of the Italian countryside that hung on the landing. “Safe...” Teresa whispered. “Behind.”
I didn't wait to ask questions. I ran up the sweeping marble staircase. I reached the landing and grabbed the heavy gold frame of the oil painting. I pulled. It swung open on hidden hinges. Behind it was a steel wall safe. But the door to the safe was wide open. I looked inside. It was completely empty. Answer One, Open Two. The pink suitcase didn’t hold Sophie’s clothes. Dominic hadn’t kidnapped the girl just for leverage. He had used her to smuggle something out of the house. I looked down at the carpeted floor beneath the safe. There, half-hidden by the baseboard, was a torn piece of thick cardstock. I picked it up. It was a luggage tag, ripped from a bag in a hurry. It had a flight number and a destination printed on it. It wasn't a commercial flight. It was for a private airstrip twenty miles outside the city. And the destination was Geneva, Switzerland. I gripped the tag and ran back to the railing. Luca was just stepping into the foyer, holding a loaded pistol. “Mr. Moretti!” I screamed, waving the tag. “They aren’t driving to Michigan! They’re flying to Switzerland!”
