Chapter 19 - The Ghost in the Flour
The wedding was set for the following spring, but the peace of the Moretti household was a fragile, elusive thing.
Two weeks after the proposal, Lily was working late in the development kitchen of the new Culinary Institute. The building was empty, the students having departed at five, leaving only the faint hum of the commercial walk-in freezers and the soft ticking of the wall clock.
Lily was testing a new recipe for the wedding cake—her own creation this time, an almond chiffon infused with orange blossom and crushed pistachios. She hummed softly to herself, dusting the heavy marble prep slab with fine white pastry flour.
A floorboard creaked in the dark corridor outside the test kitchen.
Lily froze, her rolling pin poised in mid-air. "Marco?" she called out. "Luca told you to wait in the car."
There was no answer. Only the low, rhythmic hum of the ventilation.
Lily set the rolling pin down silently. Her instincts, honed by violence and betrayal, screamed a warning. She slid her right hand beneath the edge of the prep table, where Luca had installed a discreet panic button connected directly to his personal security detail.
Her fingers touched the button, pressing it firmly.
The kitchen lights suddenly clicked off, plunging the room into shadow, illuminated only by the pale amber streetlight filtering through the high frosted windows.
From the darkened doorway, the soft sound of slow, mocking applause echoed across the stainless-steel room.
"Bravo, Miss Carter. Or should I say, the future Mrs. Moretti?"
A woman’s voice. Melodic, aristocratic, and dripping with venom.
Lily turned slowly, her heart slamming against her ribs. Emerging from the shadows was a tall, slender figure dressed in a black trench coat, her blonde hair cut sharp to her jawline, her lips painted blood-red.
It was Aurelia.
"Aurelia," Lily whispered, her blood running cold. "You're in a federal supermax in Colorado."
"A federal facility owned and staffed by guards who have families that need money," Aurelia purred, taking three slow, deliberate steps toward the marble counter. In her gloved right hand, she held a long, silver cake knife—the very same blade she had intended to plunge into the poisoned engagement tier four months ago.
"Did you really think Luca could put me in a cage?" Aurelia whispered, her eyes glowing with feral, unhinged madness in the dim light. "Did you really think a kitchen rat could steal my empire, my man, and my life, and just walk away into a fairy tale?"
Lily didn't retreat. She backed herself against the counter, her hands feeling along the edge of the marble until her fingers brushed the heavy, solid oak rolling pin.
"Luca's men are already on their way," Lily said, keeping her voice completely steady, refusing to give the madwoman the satisfaction of fear. "You have thirty seconds to run."
Aurelia smiled—a wide, grotesque, terrifying grin that stretched her red lips. She raised the silver knife, the blade catching the cold streetlight.
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"Thirty seconds is twenty-nine more than I need to carve that pretty face off your skull, baker girl."
Aurelia lunged across the flour-dusted marble—
