Chapter 9 – THE MAN AT THE GATE
The heavy mahogany doors of the mansion groaned as Luca pulled them open.
I stood on the landing of the grand staircase, gripping the banister.
Standing on the front steps, flanked by two men in dark suits, was a man who looked to be in his late sixties. He leaned on a silver-tipped cane, his posture immaculate despite the pouring rain.
“Good evening, Luca,” the man said. His voice was smooth, cultured, and carried an unmistakable Italian accent.
Luca didn’t step aside to let him in. “Donatello. It’s late.”
Donatello smiled, though his eyes remained completely flat. “It is late. But I received a disturbing phone call from Vincent before the FBI confiscated his phone. He mentioned my surrogate agency.”
“Vincent is going to federal prison,” Luca said coldly. “Whatever business you had with him is over.”
“My business is never over until I say it is,” Donatello replied softly. “Vincent promised me something in exchange for providing Vanessa with a child. A massive percentage of the Moretti shipping lines. Now that Vanessa is out of the picture, I’m afraid the debt falls to you.”
“I owe you nothing,” Luca growled.
Donatello sighed, leaning slightly on his cane. “Luca, Luca. You misunderstand. I am not here for the shipping lines.”
He looked past Luca, his dark eyes fixing directly on me standing on the stairs.
“I am here for Clara’s daughter.”
My breath hitched.
Luca instantly stepped into Donatello’s line of sight, blocking me from view. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know your father had a bastard daughter,” Donatello said, his voice hardening. “And I know your father owed me a blood debt from thirty years ago. He promised me his firstborn daughter to marry my son, to unite our families.”
Teresa gasped from the top of the stairs.
“Sofia was already married,” Donatello continued calmly. “But it seems you have another sister. An unmarried one.”
Panic surged through my veins.
“Leave my property,” Luca warned, his hand inching toward his waistband.
“I will leave,” Donatello nodded smoothly. “But I will return in three days for the girl. If she is not ready to fulfill her father’s contract, I will take the newborn child instead. The blood debt will be paid, one way or another.”
He turned and walked back out into the rain.
The doors clicked shut.
Luca turned to me, his face grim. “Pack a bag, Hannah. Right now.”
“What?” I stammered. “Where are we going?”
“To get your mother,” Luca said, grabbing his car keys. “And then we are leaving Chicago. Tonight.”
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