Chapter 6 - THE BROKEN ROSARY
The words hit me like a physical blow.
Luca's brothers?
I had worked in the Moretti mansion for eight months. I had seen Marco and Dante Moretti at family dinners. They were loud, arrogant men, but they always hugged Luca, kissed his cheeks, and toasted to his health.
"Adrian, are you sure?" I whispered, my heart hammering in my chest.
"I heard Vanessa on the phone with Marco," Adrian choked out, clutching his stomach. "She was promising him the shipping ports if he helped her orchestrate the hit. They needed Luca to sign the marriage trust so the assets would unlock without raising suspicion from the Commission."
I stood up, panic rising in my throat. Luca was walking into a trap. He thought he was negotiating with Vanessa's hired muscle. He was walking into an ambush set by his own flesh and blood.
I looked around the dining room. The guests were huddled in corners, whispering frantically. The remaining bodyguards were stationed at the doors, refusing to let anyone leave.
I ran to the nearest guard. "I need a phone! I have to call Mr. Moretti!"
The guard frowned. "Boss said no phones. Signal jammers are on anyway to keep anyone from calling the cops."
I looked at my own cell phone. No Service.
I had to get out of the house. I had to warn him.
I looked at Adrian. He had passed out on the rug. Allison had taken his car keys when she left with Luca.
"I need to leave," I told the guard.
"Nobody leaves, Emily. Boss's orders."
I thought of my mother again. I thought of how easy it would be to just sit down, stay quiet, and keep my job—if I still had one tomorrow. But then I thought of eight-year-old Leo, terrified in the back of a black SUV. I thought of Luca, who had defended me against Vanessa when he didn't have to.
I turned away from the guard and walked casually toward the kitchen swinging doors. Once inside, I broke into a sprint. I bypassed the main kitchen staff, who were clustered together in fear, and ran to the pantry.
There was a service door that led to the alley. It was locked from the outside, but I knew the chef kept a spare key under the flour bin. I grabbed it, jammed it into the lock, and pushed out into the cold Chicago night air.
I ran down the alley toward the street. My maid's uniform offered no protection against the biting wind.
I needed a car. I spotted Vanessa's silver Mercedes parked near the side gate. The valet usually left the keys in the sun visors of the VIP cars during private parties. I prayed this was no exception.
I yanked the door open, ignoring the blaring alarm, and flipped the visor. The keys fell into my lap.
I started the engine, threw it into drive, and sped away from the mansion.
I knew where the private airfield was. It was twenty minutes outside the city, an old airstrip the Moretti family used for "off-the-books" imports.
I drove recklessly, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tight they ached. I prayed I wouldn't be too late.
When I finally turned onto the dark, gravel road leading to the airfield, my headlights caught the silhouette of three parked cars. Two black SUVs and Luca's sleek sedan.
I killed my headlights and parked a hundred yards away, slipping out of the Mercedes. The wind whipped through the open tarmac.
I crept behind a stack of old shipping crates, peering out into the dim light of a solitary floodlight.
Luca and Allison stood in the open.
Across from them stood Marco and Dante Moretti.
And in front of Dante, with a large hand gripping his small shoulder, was little Leo. The boy was crying, clutching a broken wooden rosary in his hands.
"Let him go, Marco," Luca said, his voice echoing across the empty tarmac. "You want the ports? They're yours. Let the boy walk to his mother."
Marco, the older brother, laughed. He pulled a gun from his coat.
"You always were too soft, Luca. Taking over father's empire but refusing to get your hands dirty. We don't just want the ports. We want the throne. And Vanessa gave us the perfect distraction to take it."
Allison sobbed, taking a step forward. "Please! Take me! Leave my son!"
Dante pointed his gun at Allison. "Shut up, lady."
I was hiding behind the crates, trembling. I had no weapon. I had no plan. I was just a housemaid.
But then, I saw something in the dirt near my feet.
It was a heavy, iron crowbar, abandoned by some runway worker.
I looked at the massive floodlight tower supplying the only illumination on the tarmac. It was powered by an external generator just a few feet from my hiding spot.
If I killed the lights, Luca would have a chance.
I gripped the crowbar, praying my mother would forgive me if I didn't make it home, and raised it high above the generator's control panel.
And then, I heard a voice behind me whisper in the darkness.
"Don't do it, Emily."
May you like
I spun around, dropping the crowbar.
Standing in the shadows, holding a gun leveled straight at my head, was Adrian Romano.
