Chapter 4 – THE BLOOD ON THE MIRROR

The words echoed through the grand foyer, bouncing off the marble walls and creeping up the stairs like a physical chill.

Look in a mirror, boy. You really think you look anything like Antonio Moretti?

I sat frozen against the bedroom door.

My mind scrambled, trying to process the magnitude of what Carlo had just said.

Luca wasn’t Antonio’s son? He was Carlo Bellini’s?

The heir to the Moretti empire, the man who had waged a silent war against the Bellinis for a decade, was actually their blood?

“You’re a liar,” Luca’s voice finally broke the silence. It was low, dangerous, and completely devoid of the doubt I knew he was feeling.

“Am I?” Carlo mocked. “Look at your hands, Luca. Look at your temper. Antonio was a soft, compromising man who built a business. I built an army. You’re a killer, Luca. Just like me.”

“Antonio raised me,” Luca snarled. “He’s my father.”

“He stole you!” Carlo yelled. “Teresa took you because she couldn’t give Antonio a child of his own! They used my blood to secure their legacy!”

A gunshot echoed.

I jumped, my heart hammering.

“Boss, hold your fire!” Marcus shouted urgently.

“The next one goes between your eyes, Carlo,” Luca roared, the sound of a struggle echoing below.

“Kill me, and my men will burn this house to the ground with your mother inside,” Carlo threatened calmly. “You have five minutes, Luca. Bring Teresa down here to confess the truth, or we kill everyone.”

Heavy footsteps retreated toward the front doors.

A moment later, rapid footsteps pounded up the stairs.

I scrambled away from the door just as Luca pushed it open.

His face was a mask of pure, unrestrained fury. He looked wild, his chest heaving, his gun gripped so tightly his knuckles were white.

He didn’t look at me. He walked straight past me toward the bathroom.

“Mom!” Luca barked, throwing the bathroom door open.

Teresa flinched, looking up from the bathtub.

“Luca, please,” she whimpered, terrified of the man standing in front of her.

He didn’t soften. He didn’t kneel.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out the faded Polaroid photograph, and slammed it against the bathroom mirror.

“Is it true?” Luca demanded.

Teresa stared at the photograph, the color draining completely from her face.

She began to shake violently.

“Luca, listen to me—”

“Is it true?!” he roared, slamming his hand against the wall. The mirror cracked under the force.

Teresa covered her face, sobbing hysterically.

“I had to,” she wailed. “Antonio wanted a son so badly. And Carlo… Carlo was a monster! He was going to turn you into a monster!”

Luca staggered backward as if he’d been shot.

The gun in his hand dropped to the tile floor with a heavy clatter.

“You stole me,” Luca whispered, the betrayal shattering his entire foundation.

“I saved you!” Teresa cried, crawling out of the tub and reaching for his legs. “You were my baby! I loved you!”

Luca stepped away from her, revulsion twisting his features.

“Don’t touch me.”

Teresa collapsed against the tiles, weeping.

I couldn’t just stand there. I stepped forward, putting myself between Luca and his mother.

“Mr. Moretti, stop,” I said firmly. “She’s terrified. She did what she thought was right.”

Luca looked at me, his dark eyes hollow.

“She lied to me for thirty-eight years, Lucy,” he said, his voice breaking. “My entire life is a lie. I’m a Bellini.”

He looked down at his trembling hands—the same hands Carlo claimed were made for killing.

“No,” I said, grabbing his arm. “You are the man who spent the last hour defending an old woman who couldn’t hold a glass. You are the man who threw away a massive business merger because your mother was insulted. Carlo Bellini wouldn’t do that. You are Antonio’s son, no matter whose blood is in your veins.”

Luca stared at me.

For a fraction of a second, the wild panic in his eyes subsided.

But before he could speak, Marcus rushed into the bedroom.

“Boss, we have a massive problem,” Marcus panted.

“Carlo is breaching?” Luca asked, picking his gun back up.

“No,” Marcus said, looking confused. “Carlo just retreated. His men are pulling out of the driveway.”

Luca frowned. “Why would he retreat? He gave me five minutes.”

“Because he didn’t come here for you, boss,” Marcus said grimly.

Marcus pointed out the large bedroom window overlooking the front courtyard.

Luca and I rushed to the glass.

In the driving rain, Carlo Bellini was climbing into the back of an armored SUV.

But he wasn’t alone.

Two of his men were dragging someone out of the mansion, forcing them into the car beside Carlo.

It was a woman in a red satin gown.

Vanessa.

“They took Vanessa?” I asked, completely confused. “Why would he kidnap his own daughter?”

Luca’s eyes widened in horror.

“Vanessa isn’t his daughter,” Luca realized, the pieces finally locking together. “She’s his niece. Carlo’s brother died in a hit ten years ago. Carlo took Vanessa in to use her as a pawn.”

“But why take her now?” I asked.

Luca turned away from the window, his face pale.

“Because Vanessa was the only person who knew where the offshore accounts were hidden,” Luca said. “Carlo didn’t come here for me, Lucy. He used the story about my parentage to distract me while his men grabbed Vanessa. He’s liquidating the Bellini assets and running.”

He looked at Marcus.

“If Carlo gets that money out of the country, he’s going to use it to hire an army. He’ll wipe out every Moretti in Chicago.”

“What do we do?” Marcus asked.

Luca looked back at his mother, still crying on the bathroom floor.

He walked over, knelt down, and gently picked up the little yellow plastic cup that had started this entire nightmare.

He placed it on the counter.

“We go after my father’s money,” Luca said coldly.