Chapter 3 – THE FREIGHT TICKET BOUGHT WITH BLOOD MONEY
The receipt on the table seemed to mock everyone in the room.
It was printed on cheap, yellow thermal paper, bearing the faded logo of the Chicago Industrial Freight Line. A one-way rental for a decommissioned boxcar, paid for in cash by the Bellini family.
Luca stared at it, his chest heaving as the horrific reality set in.
“You put my sister and a six-year-old boy in a freight car in the middle of winter?” Luca asked, his voice completely devoid of its usual warmth. It was the voice of a mafia boss about to go to war.
Vanessa casually snapped her evening bag shut. “Don’t be dramatic, darling. The boxcar is insulated. Mostly. They have blankets. They’ll survive the night, provided we come to a reasonable agreement.”
“An agreement?” Matteo shouted, tearing himself away from Luca’s grip. He lunged toward Vanessa, genuine terror in his eyes. “You told me you were just going to pay her to leave the state! You never said you were taking my son!”
Vanessa didn’t even flinch when Matteo approached her. She simply raised a manicured eyebrow.
“Oh, Matteo,” Vanessa sighed, shaking her head. “You really are stupid. Did you honestly think I was going to let the biological heir to the Moretti empire walk away? Sofia’s bastard son is the only thing standing between me and the total inheritance of Luca’s estate.”
I felt sick to my stomach. Vanessa hadn’t just isolated Luca; she had orchestrated a kidnapping to secure her financial future. She was planning to use the child as leverage, or worse, eliminate him entirely.
“Marco,” Luca commanded, his dark eyes never leaving Vanessa. “Arrest her. Tie her to the chair.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Vanessa warned, a venomous edge entering her voice. She looked at her diamond wristwatch. “It is currently nine-thirty. The freight train carrying your sister and her bastard child is scheduled to be decoupled at the abandoned rail yard at midnight. If my men don’t receive a phone call from me by eleven, they have orders to lock the boxcar from the outside and set it on fire.”
Rosa let out a strangled cry, burying her face in her hands. “No! Dear God, no!”
I put my arm around the old woman’s frail shoulders, my own hands shaking uncontrollably. I had needed this job to pay for my mother’s medical bills, but I had just walked into a nightmare of blood and greed.
“What do you want?” Luca asked, his voice tight with agonizing restraint.
Vanessa smiled, walking slowly back to the head of the dining table. She picked up a crystal champagne flute and took a delicate sip.
“I want the wedding to proceed tomorrow as planned,” Vanessa said smoothly. “And I want you to sign the irrevocable trust documents my lawyers drafted. The ones naming me the sole beneficiary of your estate in the event of your… untimely passing.”
Luca stared at the monster he had almost married. “You want me to sign my own death warrant.”
“I want security, Luca,” Vanessa corrected. “You sign the papers, we say our vows, and I make the phone call. Sofia and the boy are released safely in Boston. You refuse, and your sister burns. The choice is yours.”
Matteo stepped forward, his face pale with desperation. “Luca, you can’t sign that. She’ll kill you the second the ink is dry.”
“Shut up, Matteo,” Luca growled. He looked at Vanessa. “I need proof they are alive. Right now.”
Vanessa sighed dramatically, reaching into her purse and pulling out her cell phone. She dialed a number, put it on speaker, and placed it on the table.
It rang twice before a gruff male voice answered. “Yeah, Boss?”
“Let me hear them, Dominic,” Vanessa ordered.
There was the sound of heavy metal sliding open, followed by the howling of the bitter Chicago wind.
Then, a woman’s terrified voice echoed through the phone.
“Luca? Luca, is that you? Please, don’t let them hurt my baby!”
“Sofia!” Luca shouted, leaning over the table. “Sofia, I’m here! Are you hurt? Is Leo okay?”
“We’re so cold, Luca,” Sofia sobbed. “Leo is freezing. Please, just do what they want. They have guns.”
“Auntie Sofia?” a tiny, frightened voice whimpered in the background. “I want my mom.”
The entire dining room froze.
Luca stopped breathing. He stared down at the speakerphone.
“Sofia,” Luca whispered, his brow furrowing in deep, agonizing confusion. “Why did Leo just call you Auntie?”
The line went dead silent. Only the sound of the wind echoed through the speaker.
Vanessa’s smug smile completely vanished. She snatched the phone off the table, her eyes widening in sudden panic. “Dominic! Cut the line! Cut it now!”
The call disconnected with a sharp beep.
Luca slowly stood up straight. He turned his head and looked at Matteo, who was backing away toward the door, his face the color of ash.
“Matteo,” Luca said, his voice dropping an octave into something truly terrifying. “Why did that little boy ask for his mother?”
Matteo swallowed hard, shaking his head frantically. “He’s confused, Luca! It’s dark in there, he’s scared—”
“Don’t lie to me again!” Luca roared, flipping the heavy mahogany chair out of his way. “If Sofia is his aunt… who is his mother?”
Rosa Caruso let out a soft, broken gasp.
The seventy-nine-year-old nanny slowly stood up, her faded blue eyes staring at Matteo with profound horror.
“Oh, dear God,” Rosa whispered, her hands flying to cover her mouth. “It wasn’t Sofia who came to you six years ago, was it, Matteo?”
Rosa turned to Luca, tears streaming down her wrinkled face.
“Luca,” Rosa cried, her voice shattering the silence. “Sofia didn’t run away because she was pregnant. She ran away to hide the baby of the woman Matteo actually assaulted.”
Luca’s blood ran cold. He looked at Matteo.
“Who is the mother?” Luca demanded.
Matteo backed against the door, trembling violently as he finally confessed the truth.
“It was Elena, Luca,” Matteo choked out. “The boy is Elena’s son.”
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