Chapter 2 – THE MAN ON THE PHONE

I froze.

The air in the bedroom suddenly felt too thin to breathe.

“Sophie,” I said slowly, trying to keep my voice steady. “Are you sure? Are you sure the man said your father’s name?”

She nodded, hugging the white rabbit tighter. “He said, ‘Luca, it’s done.’ And then he laughed. It was a scary laugh.”

My mind raced. Luca Moretti was a powerful man, the head of a syndicate that controlled half the city. But he adored his daughter. I had watched him read her bedtime stories, help her with math homework, and cancel million-dollar meetings just to attend her piano recitals.

Would a man like that order a fire that almost killed his own child?

No. Something was terribly wrong.

“Sophie, did you ever tell your father about the man on the phone?”

She shook her head vigorously. “Vanessa told me that if I ever told Daddy, he would go to prison forever. She said Daddy wanted Mommy’s house to burn down.”

Bile rose in my throat. Vanessa hadn’t just tried to kill this little girl. She had emotionally tortured her for years, weaponizing her trauma to keep her silent.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Someone gripped the handle of the bedroom door and rattled it violently.

I jumped up, stepping between Sophie and the door.

“Emily, open the door,” Luca’s voice came from the other side. He sounded breathless. Desperate.

I hesitated.

He called my daddy. And he said, ‘Luca, it’s done.’

“Emily!” Luca pounded his fist against the wood. “Open the damn door!”

I looked at Sophie. She nodded slightly.

I unlocked the deadbolt and stepped back.

Luca burst into the room. His tie was gone, and his shirt was unbuttoned at the collar. He looked at Sophie, ensuring she was unharmed, before turning to me.

He held up a shattered cell phone.

“Vanessa had a burner phone hidden in her shoe,” Luca said, his chest heaving. “Marco found it when he searched her. She managed to send one text message before he took it away.”

“To who?” I asked.

“I don’t know. The number is untraceable.”

Luca looked at the cracked screen. “But I know what the message said.”

He turned the phone around so I could see it.

The text message was just four words.

The maid knows everything.

My blood ran cold.

“Me?” I whispered. “But I don’t know anything!”

“Whoever was with Vanessa that night knows you were the one who saved Sophie,” Luca said grimly. “And they know you’re working in my house. They think you recognize them.”

“But I didn’t see anyone! I just broke the window and got her out!”

Luca ran a hand through his dark hair. “It doesn’t matter what you actually saw. They believe you are a threat. Which means you are in immediate danger.”

He grabbed a duffel bag from Sophie’s closet and threw it on the bed.

“Pack some warm clothes, Sophie,” he ordered gently but firmly. “We’re leaving the estate.”

“Where are we going?” Sophie asked, grabbing her rabbit.

“To a safe house. Emily is coming with us.”

“Sir, I can’t just leave,” I protested. “My brother is at the university. If these people think I’m a threat, they might go after him.”

Luca stopped packing. He looked at me, a deep respect flashing in his eyes.

“I already sent two of my best men to your brother’s dorm,” he said softly. “They will move him to a secure hotel under an assumed name. I swear to you, Emily, he is safe.”

I exhaled a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

“Go to your quarters. Pack only what you need. You have five minutes.”

I ran out of the room and down the back stairs to the servant’s quarters. The narrow hallway was dimly lit.

I pushed my door open and froze.

My room had been completely ransacked.

My mattress was slashed. My dresser drawers were pulled out, clothes thrown everywhere.

Someone had been in here while I was upstairs.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I slowly walked into the room, stepping over my torn clothes.

On top of my overturned nightstand, sitting perfectly in the center, was a plain white envelope.

My hands shook as I picked it up and opened it.

Inside was a one-way first-class plane ticket to Italy.

In my name.

And tucked behind the ticket was a photograph.

It was a picture of my younger brother, sitting at a coffee shop on his campus. It was taken today.

Written in red ink on the back of the photo were the words:

Take the flight, or he takes a bullet.

I dropped the picture.

And then I noticed something on the edge of the ticket. A small, distinctive smudge of black ink. A fingerprint.

But it wasn’t just a fingerprint. It was a partial tattoo. A very specific tattoo of a black crescent moon.

I gasped.

Because I had seen that exact tattoo just ten minutes ago.

Resting on the dining room table. On the hand of Luca’s most trusted security chief.

Marco.

Share