Chapter 7 - THE RETURN TO MAPLE STREET
The drive back to the Moretti mansion felt entirely different than the frantic, stormy ride north.
The rain had finally stopped, leaving behind a clear, star-studded Chicago night sky that shimmered over the dark waters of Lake Michigan. Inside the armored SUV, the heater hummed softly, filling the cabin with a warm, comforting glow.
Sophie had fallen fast asleep in the back seat, curled up safely against her father’s side with her head resting on his shoulder, still clutching her stuffed rabbit.
Luca kept one arm securely around her, his gaze fixed out the window as the familiar iron gates of his estate loomed into view.
The security guards at the gate clicked their flashlights off and saluted as our vehicle rolled through, gliding up the long gravel driveway toward the grand double doors of the mansion.
When Luca cut the engine, the vehicle fell into a peaceful silence.
“Let me carry her inside,” I whispered, turning around in the front passenger seat.
“No,” Luca said softly, a tender smile touching the corners of his mouth. “She needs to feel her father walking her through that front door. After tonight... she needs to know she’s never leaving this house again.”
Carefully, so as not to wake her, Luca scooped Sophie into his arms and stepped out of the SUV into the crisp autumn air.
I followed closely behind them as he walked up the marble steps of the porch.
Before Luca could even reach for the brass handle, the heavy oak door swung wide open.
Mrs. Moretti stood in the entryway, wrapped in her embroidered cardigan, her hands clasped tightly over her silver rosary. Behind her stood Arthur Vance, looking grave but relieved.
The moment Mrs. Moretti saw Sophie sleeping safely in her son's arms, a loud, ragged sob broke from her throat.
She covered her mouth with both hands, tears streaming freely down her wrinkled cheeks.
“Oh, my precious angel,” Mrs. Moretti whispered, stepping aside to let them pass into the warm, brightly lit foyer.
Luca carried Sophie up the grand staircase and down the familiar hallway, gently laying her down in her own pink-and-white bed. He pulled the thick down quilt up to her chin, smoothed her dark hair back from her forehead, and pressed a long, lingering kiss to her temple.
“Sleep well, my little princess,” he murmured. “Daddy’s right here.”
When he stepped back out into the hallway, Mrs. Moretti was waiting for him.
She threw her arms around her son's neck, burying her face against his chest as the strong, powerful mafia boss held his elderly mother just as tightly as he had held his daughter.
“She’s safe, Ma,” Luca whispered into her hair. “It’s over. Everyone is safe.”
I stood quietly in the hallway, feeling a sudden wave of profound exhaustion wash over me. My clothes were damp, my shoes were ruined, and my hands were still faintly trembling from the adrenaline of the hangar.
I quietly turned toward the back staircase leading down to the staff quarters, figuring it was time for me to slip away and let the family heal in private.
“Hannah.”
Luca’s voice stopped me mid-step.
I turned around. Luca was standing at the end of the hallway, watching me with an intensity that made my breath catch.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I... I thought I’d head downstairs, Mr. Moretti. You and your family need time together,” I answered, keeping my eyes lowered respectfully.
Mrs. Moretti stepped forward, taking my hand in both of hers. Her skin was warm and soft.
“Nonsense, child,” the old woman said firmly. “You are not going downstairs. Tonight, you saved my granddaughter's life. You stood up to Vanessa when everyone else was too afraid to speak. You are family now.”
Luca walked over, stopping just a foot away from me.
“Ma is right,” Luca said, his voice dropping into a tone of quiet, absolute sincerity. “You came with me into a war zone tonight, Hannah. You risked everything to protect my daughter. In this house, your word carries more weight than any board member or business partner I’ve ever dealt with.”
Before I could formulate a reply, the front doorbell chimed softly downstairs.
May you like
Arthur Vance, who had been waiting quietly at the bottom of the stairs, called up to us.
“Luciano? You’re going to want to come down to the parlor. The federal prosecutor just sent over the emergency asset forfeiture documents for Vanessa and Dante's corporate holdings. And... there’s someone else here to see you.”
