Chapter 10 – THE FLIGHT TO NAPLES

The private jet tore through the night sky over the Atlantic.

I sat in the plush leather seat, clutching my mother’s frail hand. We had pulled her out of her small apartment less than an hour after Donatello left the mansion.

Teresa and Sofia were asleep in the back cabin, the baby resting safely between them.

Luca sat across from me, staring out the window into the pitch-black sky.

“Where are we going, Luca?” my mother asked softly, her voice weak from the rush.

“Naples, Clara,” Luca said, finally looking at her. His voice held a surprising gentleness. “To our family’s old estate. It’s heavily fortified. Donatello’s reach is strong in America, but in Italy, the Moretti name still commands absolute authority.”

My mother touched her gold medallion. “Your father promised me he settled the debt with Donatello before I left.”

“My father lied about a lot of things,” Luca sighed. He looked at me. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I just found out you were my sister, and I’ve already dragged you into a war.”

“You didn’t drag me,” I said firmly. “You saved us. If you hadn’t come for me tonight, Donatello would have found me eventually.”

Luca nodded, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease.

“There’s something else,” Luca said quietly, leaning forward. “Donatello doesn’t just want you for a marriage alliance. He wants the medallion your mother is wearing.”

I looked at the heavy gold crest resting against my mother’s chest. “Why? It’s just jewelry.”

“It’s not just jewelry,” Luca corrected. “That medallion is the physical key to a safety deposit box in Zurich. A box my father set up thirty years ago. He told my mother it contained the original deeds to Donatello’s entire empire. Evidence that Donatello stole his wealth from the old families.”

My mother gasped, her hands shaking as she touched the gold. “He gave it to me to hide it in plain sight.”

“Exactly,” Luca said. “If Donatello gets the medallion, he destroys the evidence. If we get to Zurich first, we can bankrupt him and end this threat forever.”

The plane suddenly hit massive turbulence, shuddering violently.

The pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom.

“Mr. Moretti? We have a problem.”

Luca pressed the intercom button. “What is it?”

“Air traffic control just ordered us to ground the plane in London,” the pilot said, sounding tense. “They said our flight manifest has been flagged by Interpol. Someone reported a kidnapping.”

Luca cursed under his breath. “Donatello.”

“Sir,” the pilot continued, his voice dropping an octave. “We have two fighter jets flanking us. They’re ordering us to descend immediately.”

I looked out the window.

Flying silently in the clouds beside us, illuminated by the moonlight, was a dark grey military jet.

And from the rear cabin, Sofia screamed.

“Luca!” she cried out. “The baby’s breathing! Something is wrong with her breathing!”

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