Chapter 3 - The Lockdown
"Boss! They're hitting the gas!" Marco’s voice blasted back through the phone speaker a second later. "The transport van just rammed the side barrier—!"
"Shoot the tires," Luca commanded coldly. "Do not let that vehicle leave the grounds."
"Understood!"
The distant, muffled CRACK-CRACK of two suppressed gunshots echoed from the front of the estate, followed immediately by the loud, metallic screech of grinding steel and a heavy crash that shook the windowpanes of the sewing room.
Luca didn't wait. He turned and sprinted back down the third-floor corridor, his long stride effortlessly clearing the distance.
"Stay here," he threw over his shoulder at me.
"No!" I yelled, running after him despite the searing pain in my elbow. "I'm coming with you!"
He didn't waste time arguing. We bolted down the private staircase, bursting out onto the second-floor landing just as the heavy oak doors of the grand foyer below slammed open.
Down in the foyer, the scene was absolute bedlam.
The twenty-eight wealthy guests were huddled near the grand piano, looking terrified as four heavily armed, black-suited security guards stood at the exits, arms crossed over their broad chests.
In the center of the room, Vanessa Bellini was screaming at Marco. Her red silk gown was slightly disheveled, her diamond necklace catching the light as her chest heaving with fury.
"How dare you?!" Vanessa shrieked, pointing a manicured finger at Marco’s broad chest. "Do you have any idea who I am?! I am about to be the mistress of this house! I will have every single one of you fired and thrown in prison by morning!"
"You won't be firing anyone, Vanessa."
Luca’s voice descended from the top of the marble staircase like a thunderclap.
The entire foyer fell dead silent once again.
Luca descended the stairs slowly, his expression devoid of any human emotion. He looked like a storm incarnate, wrapped in tailored wool. I walked two steps behind his left shoulder, holding my arm, my maid's apron torn and stained with dry plaster and fresh blood.
Vanessa turned around, forcing a look of outraged innocence onto her face. "Luca! Thank God! Your brainless thugs have locked the doors and shot at an ambulance! They've gone completely rogue! Tell them to open the gates this instant!"
Luca reached the bottom step. He didn't stop until he was standing less than two feet from her.
"Where is my mother, Vanessa?"
"I told you!" Vanessa cried, throwing her hands up in frustration. "She was being transferred to the private medical center in Evanston! The transport van was supposed to take her quietly through the back gate so as not to disturb the guests! Your mother is sick, Luca! Her mind is failing her!"
"Her mind is fine," I spoke up, my voice trembling but clear as a bell.
Vanessa’s head snapped toward me, her eyes flaring with pure, unadulterated venom. "Shut your mouth, you pathetic little thief! Luca, are you really listening to a housemaid who can't even drag a piece of furniture without bleeding all over the marble?!"
"The transport van didn't leave through the back," Marco reported, stepping up to Luca’s side, holding a black radio. "We blew out the front tires as it hit the main security gate. The vehicle is immobilized fifty yards down the driveway."
Luca turned his head slowly toward Marco. "Secure the van. Bring everyone inside."
"Already done, boss. My men are bringing the driver and the medical escort up the steps right now."
Vanessa’s jaw worked silently for a second. Panic—real, raw, unscripted panic—flickered deep within her dark eyes before she managed to cover it up with another mask of indignation.
"Luca, this is insane!" Vanessa hissed, stepping closer and dropping her voice to an urgent whisper so the guests couldn't hear. "You're embarrassing us in front of the Senator and the board members! If news of this gets out to the press—"
"I don't give a damn about the press," Luca said softly, leaning down until his face was inches from hers. "And if my mother has so much as a single scratch on her body... you won't live long enough to see the newspapers anyway."
Vanessa flinched backward as if he had struck her.
The heavy front double doors were shoved open by two security guards.
Dragged into the foyer were two men in blue paramedic uniforms. One was a tall, burly man with a thick neck—the very man who had grabbed my arm on the third floor. His lip was split from where Marco’s team had subdued him.
Behind them, supported by two gentle female security officers, walked Eleanor Moretti.
She was frail, wrapped in a thick wool blanket, her silver hair slightly messy. But her eyes—the same sharp gray as her son's—were wide open, clear, and brimming with fierce intelligence.
"Luca!" Eleanor cried out, her frail voice echoing across the marble.
"Mother!"
Luca crossed the foyer in three massive strides, pushing past the guards, and caught his mother in a deep, desperate embrace. He dropped to his knees right there on the cold marble, wrapping his broad arms around her small, fragile frame, resting his face against her shoulder.
"I'm here," Luca whispered, his voice cracking slightly—the first time I had ever heard a crack in the powerful mob boss's composure. "I'm here. You're safe."
Eleanor held onto his suit jacket with her thin, pale fingers, weeping softly. "They tried to take me, Luca... she paid them... she paid them to put me away in that place..."
Luca pulled back slightly, holding his mother’s face in his large hands. "I know. I know."
Eleanor’s eyes shifted over Luca’s shoulder. She looked past the security guards, past the terrified guests, until her gaze found me standing near the bottom of the stairs, clutching my bloodied arm.
"Sophie," Eleanor called out, reaching a trembling hand toward me.
I took a step forward. "Mrs. Moretti..."
Eleanor reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me down toward her. Despite her frailty, her grip was remarkably firm. She looked up into her son's eyes with absolute seriousness.
"If it wasn't for this girl, Luca," Eleanor said, her voice ringing clear throughout the silent room, "I would be locked in a padded room in Wisconsin right now. She fought them off. She took the blows meant for me."
Luca slowly stood up, keeping one protective arm around his mother’s shoulders.
He looked at me. The look in his gray eyes was no longer just gratitude—it was something far deeper, something terrifyingly profound.
Then, he turned his head and looked at the burly man in the paramedic uniform—the man with the split lip who had twisted my arm.
"Marco," Luca said quietly.
"Yes, boss?"
"Take those two down to the basement holding cell." Luca’s voice was as smooth as silk and cold as ice. "I will be down to speak with them personally in ten minutes."
"Understood, sir."
Luca turned his gaze back to Vanessa. She was backing away slowly toward the dining room entrance, her red gown rustling against the floor, her hands shaking.
"And Vanessa?" Luca added softly.
May you like
She stopped, paralyzed by his voice.
"Don't bother taking off the gown," Luca said, stepping forward. "You're going to answer every single question my mother has... right here, in front of all your guests."
