Chapter 9 – the photograph in the dark

The walls of my small room seemed to close in on me.

I stared down at the crumpled photograph resting on my desk. It was an old Polaroid, slightly faded. In the picture, a much younger version of myself was standing outside a diner in the rain. Standing next to me, holding an umbrella over my head, was Marcus Vance.

Luca stood perfectly still, his massive frame blocking the only exit. His eyes were no longer the warm, grateful eyes of the man who had hugged me in the kitchen. They were the cold, dead eyes of the Don.

“I found it in Marcus’s wallet,” Luca said softly. “When we stripped his belongings before handing him over to the feds.”

I couldn’t breathe. My hands started to shake.

“Five years ago, Emma,” Luca continued, his voice dangerously calm. “That’s two years before you started working in my house. Two years before you supposedly met him.”

He took a slow step toward me.

“Who are you?”

“Mr. Moretti, please,” I choked out, tears instantly spilling over my eyelashes. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“It looks like I brought a rat into my home,” he whispered. “It looks like you’ve been playing me from the very beginning. Did Marcus plant you here? Were you his inside girl? Did you help him drive my sister out?”

“NO!” I screamed, the force of my own voice startling us both.

I slammed my hands down on the desk.

“I didn’t help him! I hate him! I hate him more than you do!”

Luca paused, his eyes narrowing. “Explain.”

I took a ragged breath, wiping the tears aggressively from my cheeks.

“Five years ago, I was twenty-two,” I started, my voice trembling. “My younger sister, Chloe, was nineteen. She got mixed up with a bad crowd. She started borrowing money to pay off a gambling debt. She borrowed it from Marcus.”

Luca’s expression shifted, just a fraction.

“She couldn’t pay him back,” I sobbed. “So he came to collect. He told her she could work off her debt at one of his underground clubs. I found out. I went to meet him at that diner.”

I pointed a shaking finger at the photograph.

“That picture was taken by one of his goons as a joke. I begged him to let my sister go. I offered to take her place. I offered him everything I had.”

“And what did he say?” Luca asked quietly.

“He laughed at me,” I wept, the painful memory ripping open like a fresh wound. “He said she was already his property. Three days later… they found her body in the river. The police called it an accidental drowning. But I knew. I knew Marcus killed her.”

Luca stared at me in stunned silence.

“I spent two years trying to get the police to listen to me,” I cried, the anger finally boiling over. “But nobody touches Marcus Vance in this city. So I realized the only way to destroy him was to get close to the only man more powerful than him.”

I looked up, meeting Luca’s terrifying gaze without flinching.

“You.”

“You infiltrated my house to get revenge on Marcus,” Luca realized, the puzzle pieces finally snapping together.

“Yes,” I admitted. “I took the maid job. I kept my head down. I watched him. I listened to his conversations. I was waiting for the perfect piece of evidence to bring him down. But then… Sofia found the ledger. She found the proof of his embezzlement.”

“And you helped her hide it,” Luca finished softly.

“I tried to protect her because she reminded me of Chloe,” I sobbed, collapsing back onto my small bed. “I swear to God, Mr. Moretti. I never betrayed you. I never hurt your family. I just wanted justice for mine.”

The room was completely silent for a long minute.

I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for him to call his guards. Waiting for him to drag me out into the street.

Instead, I heard the sound of paper tearing.

I opened my eyes.

Luca had picked up the photograph. He tore it in half, then in quarters, and dropped the pieces into my trash can.

He walked over to me and knelt down, so we were eye to eye.

“I’m sorry about your sister, Emma,” Luca said, his voice thick with genuine sorrow.

“You believe me?” I whispered.

“I believe the woman who stood in front of a gun for my sister today,” Luca said firmly. “I believe the woman who held my nephew while the world was ending.”

He stood up and picked up the deed to the house.

He held it out to me again.

“This isn’t severance,” Luca said softly. “This is a gift. For a woman who spent five years fighting a war all by herself. You don’t have to fight alone anymore, Emma.”

I took the paper, crying so hard my chest physically ached.

“Now,” Luca smiled gently, “pack your bags. You’re moving upstairs. I need my Head of Estate to start planning a welcome home dinner.”

I nodded, wiping my face. “Yes, sir.”

I thought the drama was finally over. I thought the ghosts of the past were finally buried.

But as I was cleaning out the back of my closet ten minutes later, pulling out my old winter coat, a small, folded piece of paper fell out of the pocket.

It was a note.

But it wasn’t from Sofia.

It was written on Vanessa’s heavy, monogrammed stationery.

And the message written on it made the blood freeze in my veins.