Chapter 4 – The Ransacked Apartment

The rain hammered violently against the tin roof of the garage.

Daniel kept the pistol perfectly steady. He didn’t look like the man who had politely opened doors for me at the mansion. He looked like a professional who had just found a loose end.

“Slide the gun across the floor, Mr. Moretti,” Daniel ordered. “Use two fingers.”

Luca didn’t flinch. He didn’t look at the weapon aimed at my chest. He looked at Daniel with a terrifying, absolute calm. Slowly, he drew his handgun and slid it across the greasy concrete.

“Vanessa promised you a seat at the table,” Luca said softly. “But the Bellinis don’t share power, Daniel. You’re a means to an end.”

“I’m the man holding the gun,” Daniel replied, kicking Luca’s weapon under a workbench. He gestured toward the door with his chin. “Both of you. Outside. My car is waiting.”

Earl stood frozen behind the desk, his hands raised. “Take whatever you want. Just don’t hurt Abby.”

Daniel didn’t even look at him. “Move.”

We walked out into the storm. Daniel forced us into the back of an unmarked black sedan. He sat in the driver’s seat, keeping the gun trained on us through the gap in the partition.

“Why did you keep the pawn ticket?” Luca asked as the car sped through the slick Chicago streets. “Why hide Matthew’s toolbox instead of destroying it?”

“Insurance,” Daniel said smoothly. “Vanessa is unpredictable. If she ever tried to cut me out, I needed proof that she hired the hit on your father. That photo in the toolbox was my leverage.”

“And the red ribbons?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Why the initials?”

Daniel laughed, a dry, humorless sound. “Vanessa’s idea of a joke. She likes trophies. She collects items from the widows she creates. A sick little hobby. She thought it was hilarious that you worked in her fiancé’s house, polishing her silver while wearing the ring of the man she had killed.”

Bile rose in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, my hand instinctively pressing against my chest where Matthew’s ring rested beneath my uniform. Matthew had died terrified, trying to protect a family he didn’t even know, and Vanessa had treated his grief as a punchline.

The car lurched to a halt.

I opened my eyes. We were parked in the alley behind my modest apartment building.

“Out,” Daniel commanded.

We walked up the three flights of stairs to my floor. The door to my apartment was slightly ajar. The lock had been forced.

Daniel pushed the door open.

My small, quiet sanctuary had been destroyed. The sofa cushions were slashed. The bookshelves were overturned. Every framed photo of Matthew and me had been smashed on the linoleum floor.

Standing in the center of the wreckage was Mrs. Carter.

The kind, older housekeeper who had made me tea just hours ago was holding a small, brown cardboard box tightly against her chest. She looked terrified, her eyes darting from Daniel to me.

“I found it, Daniel,” Mrs. Carter sobbed, tears spilling down her wrinkled cheeks. “It was in the back of my hall closet. I forgot I even took it inside the day Matthew died. Please, you promised you wouldn’t hurt Abigail if I gave it to you.”

Daniel smiled and stepped into the apartment. “You did well, Mrs. Carter. Put the box on the table.”

Mrs. Carter hesitated, looking at me with profound guilt. “Abigail, I’m so sorry. He said he would kill my grandchildren if I didn’t help him search.”

“It’s okay, Mrs. Carter,” I whispered, stepping forward. “Do what he says.”

She placed the dusty box on the kitchen island.

Daniel kept the gun aimed at Luca with one hand while he pulled a pocket knife from his coat with the other. He sliced the old packing tape and pushed the flaps open.

Inside the box was a heavy, tarnished silver rosary.

Daniel let out a long breath of relief. “Finally.”

“What’s so important about a rosary?” Luca asked, his voice deliberately casual, masking a coiled tension.

“It’s not just a rosary,” Daniel said. He reached into the box and twisted the large silver crucifix at the bottom of the beads.

With a soft click, the crucifix split open, revealing a tiny, hidden USB micro-drive embedded in the silver.

“This drive contains the complete ledger of the Bellini family’s offshore accounts,” Daniel smiled. “It proves they’ve been bankrupt for five years. They don’t have an empire anymore, Luca. They have debt. Vanessa was marrying you to access your vault codes and quietly transfer your wealth to save her family.”

Daniel pocketed the drive and raised the gun, aiming it directly at Luca’s head.

“And Matthew Foster found it,” Daniel sneered. “He found the drive hidden in Vanessa’s car and mailed it away. A tragic hero. Just like you’re about to be, Luca.”

Daniel’s finger tightened on the trigger.

But he had made one critical mistake. He had forgotten the mechanic’s widow.

I didn’t think. I just reacted. I grabbed the heavy, iron base of the reading lamp that had been knocked onto the kitchen counter and swung it with every ounce of strength I had.

The iron base smashed into Daniel’s wrist.

The gun fired, the bullet shattering the window just inches from Luca’s head.

Daniel screamed, dropping the weapon as his wrist shattered. Before he could recover, Luca lunged.

He didn’t just tackle Daniel. He dismantled him. In three brutally efficient moves, Luca swept Daniel’s legs, pinned him to the floor, and pressed his forearm against Daniel’s throat, cutting off his air.

“The hit on me,” Luca whispered, his voice vibrating with lethal fury. “Vanessa’s massacre. When is it happening?”

Daniel gasped, his face turning purple, a bloody smile stretching across his lips.

“You’re… too late,” Daniel choked out. “She didn’t leave the mansion… when you kicked her out. Her men are there right now. They’re slaughtering your entire family.”