Chapter 3 – THE RANSOM
The glowing screen of Luca’s phone felt like a physical blow.
I stared at the photograph of Sophie’s mother. Her name was Rachel. I had only met her twice during brief custody handoffs at the front gates of the estate, but she had always been kind, offering a warm smile and asking if I was being treated well.
Now, she was bruised, terrified, and held hostage in a concrete basement.
“They took her,” I whispered, nausea violently twisting my stomach. “Before the dinner?”
“Yes,” Luca said, his voice a low, lethal rumble. He locked his phone and shoved it back into his pocket. “Don Bellini orchestrated this perfectly. He knew Vanessa was going to push Sophie to the breaking point tonight. He knew I would cancel the wedding once I found out.”
“He wanted you to cancel it?” I asked, confused.
“The Bellini family is hemorrhaging money,” Luca explained, pacing the cold hallway of the safe house. “The feds froze their international shipping accounts last week. Don Bellini didn’t want a marriage merger anymore. He needed a hostage. He needed ransom to keep his empire from collapsing.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “He wants money for Rachel.”
Luca stopped pacing. He looked at me, the ruthless mafia boss fully eclipsing the devastated father.
“He doesn’t want money, Hannah,” Luca corrected coldly. “He wants territory. He wants my South Side distribution lines. And he wants total immunity from the Commission for breaking the truce.”
“If you give it to him, will he let her go?” I asked desperately, glancing back at the steel door where Sophie was sleeping.
Luca let out a harsh, bitter breath.
“Don Bellini doesn’t leave loose ends,” Luca said. “If I hand over the territory, he kills Rachel anyway to ensure she can’t testify against his men for the kidnapping.”
“So what are we going to do?” I panicked, my hands shaking. “If you don’t give him what he wants, he kills her. If you do, he kills her. Sophie will lose her mother!”
“I am not going to let that happen,” Luca promised, his eyes burning with an intense, terrifying focus. “I am going to get Rachel back.”
“How?”
Before Luca could answer, Silvio marched down the hallway, his heavy boots echoing on the concrete.
“Boss,” Silvio grunted, his face grim. “We got a location.”
Luca’s demeanor instantly shifted into combat mode. “Where?”
“The phone trace on the photo came back to a burner tower on the West Side, but one of our informants just called in,” Silvio reported rapidly. “They saw Bellini’s men dragging a woman matching Rachel’s description into the old meatpacking plant on Halsted Street.”
Luca nodded, a cold, predatory smile touching the corner of his mouth. “He’s getting sloppy. He thinks he holds all the cards.”
Luca turned to me.
“Hannah, I am leaving ten heavily armed men outside this door. You do not leave this room. You do not let anyone inside unless it is me or Silvio.”
“You’re going to the meatpacking plant?” I asked, fear gripping my chest.
“I’m going to bring my daughter’s mother home,” Luca stated.
He didn’t wait for a response. He and Silvio turned and sprinted down the hallway, shouting orders to the tactical team waiting in the warehouse bay.
The heavy steel doors of the safe house slammed shut, leaving me in the deafening, terrifying silence of the concrete bunker.
I slowly pushed the bedroom door open and slipped back inside.
Sophie was still asleep, curled into a tight ball under the blanket. I sat on the edge of the cot, my hands trembling so violently I had to clasp them together in my lap.
I prayed. I prayed for Rachel. I prayed for Luca.
Two hours passed. The silence was agonizing. Every creak of the building made my heart stop.
Suddenly, Sophie shifted on the cot. She groaned softly, her eyes fluttering open.
She blinked, looking around the stark, windowless room, confusion quickly morphing into panic.
“Hannah?” Sophie sat up quickly, clutching the blanket. “Where’s Daddy?”
“He had to go take care of some business, sweetie,” I lied smoothly, forcing a warm, reassuring smile. “He’ll be back soon.”
Sophie didn’t look reassured. Her twelve-year-old intuition was too sharp.
“Did something happen to Mom?” Sophie asked, her voice cracking.
My heart broke. “No, baby, your mom is fine. She’s… she’s still out of town.”
Sophie stared at me. Her dark eyes, so much like Luca’s, searched my face for the truth.
She reached into the pocket of her sweatpants and pulled out a small, bright pink cell phone.
“Then why isn’t she answering my texts?” Sophie whispered, holding the phone up.
I froze. I hadn’t realized she had her phone.
“I texted her three times since we left the house,” Sophie said, a tear slipping down her cheek. “She always texts back. Always. Even if she’s asleep.”
“Sophie, please,” I begged, gently taking her hand. “Your dad is handling everything.”
But before I could calm her down, Sophie’s pink phone buzzed loudly in her hand.
A text message lit up the screen.
Sophie gasped, instantly swiping the screen open. “It’s Mom!”
“Sophie, wait!” I panicked, reaching for the phone, terrified that Don Bellini was using Rachel’s phone to taunt the little girl.
But I was too slow.
Sophie read the text message.
All the color drained from her face. Her hands started shaking violently, and the phone dropped from her fingers, clattering onto the concrete floor.
I scrambled to pick it up.
I looked at the bright screen.
It wasn’t a message from Don Bellini. It wasn’t a ransom demand.
It was a message from Rachel.
Sophie, baby. I am so sorry. I love you so much. But you can never trust your father.
I stared at the words, my mind completely short-circuiting.
Before I could even process the horrifying implications of the text, a heavy, deafening explosion rocked the safe house.
Dust rained down from the concrete ceiling.
The heavy steel door to our bedroom groaned violently as something massive slammed against the other side.
“Hannah!” Sophie screamed, covering her ears.
Gunfire erupted in the hallway—the distinct, terrifying chatter of automatic weapons.
Luca’s men were dying right outside our door.
We had been found.
