Chapter 8 – The Photograph in His Pocket

Vanessa clawed desperately at Luca’s hands, her pristine white coat smeared with the blood of her own guards. Her expensive heels kicked wildly at the air as her face turned a terrifying shade of purple.

Luca didn’t flinch. His dark eyes were empty pits of lethal, calculating rage. He was seconds away from snapping her neck.

“Luca! Stop!” I screamed over Leo’s ragged coughing.

He didn’t hear me. The grief, the betrayal, and the sheer terror of almost losing his son had completely deafened him to reason.

“Luca, look at me!” I yelled, shifting Leo higher in my arms. “He’s breathing! Your son is alive!”

At the word son, Luca’s head jerked toward me.

He saw Leo sitting up, his small chest rising and falling steadily, clutching my sweater with his tiny fists.

The murderous tension drained out of Luca’s massive shoulders in an instant.

He dropped Vanessa.

She collapsed to the concrete floor, gasping and retching, crawling backward toward the wall like a terrified animal.

Luca didn’t even look at her. He dropped to his knees beside the mattress, his hands hovering over Leo as if he was afraid the boy would shatter if he touched him.

“Leo,” Luca whispered, tears finally breaking free and tracking down his grimy, exhausted face.

The little boy flinched slightly, pulling back against my chest. He looked at Luca with wide, frightened green eyes. He didn’t know this man. He only knew the violence he had just witnessed.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I murmured, gently stroking Leo’s dark hair. “This is a good man. He’s here to take you home.”

Leo looked up at me. He had been through hell. His mother had died, he had been kidnapped by Dominic, and almost suffocated by Vanessa. But as he looked at my face, some of the terror in his eyes began to recede.

Slowly, Leo reached his trembling, tiny hand into the pocket of his dirty jeans.

He pulled out a crumpled, water-stained piece of paper.

He uncurled his fist and held it out to Luca.

Luca gently took it.

I looked over Luca’s shoulder. It was a photograph. Cut from a magazine or a newspaper years ago. It was a picture of Luca attending a charity gala, looking handsome and formidable in a tuxedo.

Written across the bottom of the photo, in Elena’s familiar, sweeping handwriting, were three words.

This is Daddy.

My breath caught in my throat.

Elena had run because she thought Luca wanted her dead. But she had never stopped loving him. She had made sure her son knew exactly who his father was. She had kept his memory alive in that freezing cabin every single day.

Luca stared at the handwriting. A choked, agonizing sob tore out of his chest.

He lowered the photograph and looked at the little boy.

“Are you him?” Leo asked, his voice tiny and raspy from the asthma attack. “Are you my Daddy?”

Luca nodded, unable to speak, his massive hands covering his face as he wept.

Leo let go of my sweater. He crawled forward on the filthy mattress, reached his small arms out, and wrapped them tightly around Luca’s neck.

“My mommy said you would come find me,” Leo whispered.

Luca crushed the boy to his chest, burying his face in his son’s dark hair, rocking him back and forth. “I have you,” Luca choked out. “I swear to God, I have you, and I am never letting you go.”

I sat back on my heels, wiping my own tears, overwhelmed by the profound beauty of the reunion.

Suddenly, a harsh, bitter laugh echoed from the corner of the room.

Vanessa was sitting up against the wall, rubbing her bruised throat. She picked up the legal documents Luca had signed and held them against her chest.

“How touching,” Vanessa sneered, her voice raspy. “You have your bastard son. But I have the empire. The moment I walk out of this warehouse, the Moretti family is completely bankrupt.”

Luca didn’t let go of Leo. He didn’t even turn his head to look at her.

“You think you’re walking out of here, Vanessa?” Luca asked quietly.

“You signed the papers, Luca,” she spat, waving the documents. “It’s legal. The transfer is complete.”

“Marcus,” Luca said softly.

Marcus stepped forward, stepping over the bodies of the dead guards. He pulled a silver Zippo lighter from his pocket.

“Hey,” Vanessa panicked, scrambling to her feet. “What are you doing? These are legal documents! If you burn them, my family will go to war with you!”

“Your family is dead,” Marcus said bluntly.

Vanessa froze. “What?”

“While you were playing games in this basement,” Marcus explained, his scarred face completely devoid of mercy, “the Boss had the rest of our men hit the Bellini strongholds in Chicago. Your brother is bleeding out in our trunk. Your capos surrendered twenty minutes ago. You have no family left to go to war.”

Vanessa stared at him in absolute horror. The empire she had lied, cheated, and murdered for had crumbled to ash while she wasn’t looking.

Marcus flicked the lighter open. He snatched the papers from her trembling hands and set them on fire.

He dropped the burning documents onto the concrete floor, letting them burn to cinders.

“You have nothing, Vanessa,” Luca said, finally standing up with Leo resting safely in his arms. “You leave Chicago tonight with only the clothes on your back. If I ever see your face in my city again, I will not hesitate to finish what I started.”

Vanessa looked at the ashes on the floor. She looked at Luca holding his son. She looked at me, standing proudly beside them.

Without a word, the defeated, broken woman turned and walked out into the freezing night, disappearing into the darkness forever.

Luca turned to me.

“Let’s go home,” he said softly.

TITLE: The Custody Papers on the Desk

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