Chapter 3 - The Best Man's Shadow
By 8:00 A.M. the following morning, the Moretti estate was bathed in bright autumn sunlight, hiding the dark conspiracy festering within its walls.
I sat in a small private sitting room adjacent to Luca’s office, sipping black coffee. My hand throbbed with a steady beat, but the painkillers kept the worst of it at bay. Through the cracked wooden door, I could hear footsteps approaching the main study.
The heavy oak doors opened.
“Luca! My man!” Marco Rossini’s booming, confident voice filled the hallway. He stepped into the study, wearing an expensive tailored gray suit, carrying a leather briefcase. Marco was handsome in a rough, dangerous way, with sharp features and an easy, charismatic smile that had tricked half of Chicago into trusting him. “You looked like you were carrying the world on your shoulders at the dinner last night. Is everything alright with the dock shipments?”
Through the gap in the door, I watched Luca sitting behind his wide mahogany desk. He looked completely relaxed, reading through a stack of financial reports. “Everything is fine, Marco. Sip of coffee?”
“Sure.” Marco poured himself a cup from the silver carafe on the sideboard, completely unaware that every camera in the room was recording his every movement. “Vanessa mentioned that one of the maids made a scene during the soup course. Some girl named Claire?”
Luca didn't look up from his papers. “She broke her hand. Clumsy girl. I had Edward check her out and sent her home with a month’s pay.”
A subtle wave of relief passed over Marco’s face. He took a sip of his coffee. “Good. You can't have unreliable staff around, especially with the wedding coming up in two weeks. Speaking of which, the security details for the church and the reception hall are fully finalized.”
“Excellent,” Luca said smoothly. He laid his pen down and looked straight at his best man. “How are the preparations for Dock 42 coming along? The shipment from Milan arrives on Tuesday.”
Marco didn't blink. His expression remained flawless. “All set, Boss. I’ve personally cleared the customs inspectors. No paper trail, no complications. Exactly how you like it.”
“And the riverfront accounts?” Luca asked, leaning back in his leather chair. “The ones Danny Dawson managed before he disappeared?”
At the mention of my brother’s name, Marco’s left thumb twitched slightly—a tiny, involuntary micro-expression that only someone looking for it would ever notice. “Fully audited, Luca. We recovered about three million of the fifteen Danny stole. The rest is lost in offshore accounts in Panama. Cold trail.”
“I see,” Luca said softly. He reached out and opened a folder on his desk. “It’s funny you mention Panama. I had our independent auditor run a sweep of the secondary routing numbers yesterday afternoon. A four-million-dollar transfer moved out of Dock 42’s main account three days ago. It was authorized using my private security bypass code.”
Marco froze for a fraction of a second, his coffee cup hovering inches from his lips. “Your code? Luca, that’s impossible. Only three people have access to that bypass. You, me, and…” Marco trailed off, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“And Vanessa,” Luca finished the sentence for him, his voice dangerously sweet.
Marco forced a short, nervous laugh. “Luca, come on. Vanessa is your fiancée. She doesn't even know how the logistics system works. It was probably a bank glitch. I’ll call the head of the maritime board and have it cleared up by noon.”
“Don't bother,” Luca said, standing up from his chair. He walked over to the window, his back turned to Marco. “I’ve already invited the head of the maritime board to lunch today. Along with Vanessa.”
Marco’s smile faded completely. The air in the room instantly grew cold. “Luca… what’s going on? You seem on edge today.”
Luca turned around slowly, his face an unreadable mask. “I’m just getting my house in order, Marco. Before the wedding. A man shouldn't go into a marriage with loose ends hanging around his neck.”
Marco stared at Luca for three long seconds, evaluating his boss, searching for any sign that the truth had been discovered. But Luca Moretti had spent twenty years mastering the art of deception. He revealed nothing.
“Of course, Boss,” Marco said quietly, setting his coffee cup down. “Whatever you need. I’ll head down to the docks and double-check the security perimeter for Tuesday.”
“Do that,” Luca said. “And Marco?”
Marco stopped at the door, his hand resting on the brass handle. “Yeah?”
“Make sure Vanessa arrives at the lunch on time. I’d hate for her to miss the presentation.”
After Marco left, the study went completely silent. I pushed the side door open and stepped into the room, my black sling stark against my white blouse.
Luca looked at me, his dark eyes burning with a quiet, lethal intensity. “Did you hear everything?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “He’s moving the money on Tuesday night during the Dock 42 arrival.”
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“No,” Luca corrected me, walking over to his desk and picking up the silver MicroSD card. “He thinks he’s moving the money on Tuesday. But Marco and Vanessa aren't going to make it to Tuesday.”
He looked at me, offering a rare, cold smile. “Get dressed, Claire. You’re coming to lunch.”
