Chapter 3 – [THE POISONED HOSPITAL ROOM]

“Luca, stop the car!” I screamed, shoving the phone into his field of vision.

Luca slammed on the brakes, the heavy SUV skidding to a halt in an empty intersection. He stared at the photo of my mother.

His jaw locked.

“Richard’s backup plan,” Luca growled. “He knew you were the wildcard. He stationed a man at the hospital just in case.”

Answer one: Richard Bellini hadn’t just relied on his daughter to keep me quiet at dinner. He had prepared leverage against me beforehand.

Open two: If Richard was locked in the cellar, who sent the text? And how did they know we had left the estate?

“We have to go to the hospital,” I pleaded, tears hot on my cheeks. “Please, Luca. She’s all I have.”

Luca pulled out his encrypted radio. “Arthur. Get down to the cellar. Did Richard have a secondary phone?”

A moment of static. Then Arthur’s voice came through, sounding strained. “Boss. The cellar is empty. The guards are unconscious. Richard and Vanessa are gone.”

Luca cursed and punched the steering wheel. “There’s a traitor in my security detail. Someone let them out.”

He threw the SUV into reverse, spinning the tires as he changed direction toward Chicago General Hospital.

“We have ten minutes,” Luca said, his foot heavy on the gas. “If Richard escapes the city, he’ll kill Sofia to tie up loose ends. But we are saving your mother first. You have my word.”

I gripped the door handle, my heart hammering against my ribs.

When we reached the hospital, Luca didn’t bother parking. He abandoned the SUV in the ambulance bay, flashing a heavy gold badge to the stunned security guard. “Private emergency. Stay back.”

We sprinted to the oncology ward on the fourth floor.

The hallway was quiet. Too quiet. The nurses’ station was empty.

We reached my mother’s room—Room 412. The door was slightly ajar.

Luca drew a suppressed pistol from his jacket. He motioned for me to stay back, but I couldn’t. I crept up behind him.

He kicked the door open.

The room was empty.

My mother’s bed was unmade. The IV line was dangling, dripping clear fluid onto the linoleum floor.

“Mom!” I screamed, rushing to the bathroom. Empty.

Luca checked the closet. Nothing.

Then, he knelt by the bed. “Emily. Look.”

Resting perfectly in the center of my mother’s pillow was a crisp, white envelope.

I snatched it with trembling hands. Inside was a single theater ticket. The Chicago Grand Opera House. Tonight. Box Seat 4.

“He moved her,” I choked out, dropping the ticket. “He’s turning this into a game.”

Luca picked up the ticket. His expression wasn’t angry anymore. It was deadly cold.

“It’s not a game,” Luca said. “It’s a trade. He wants the journal in exchange for your mother and Sofia. He chose a public place where my men can’t breach with heavy weapons.”

“What do we do?” I asked, terror threatening to swallow me whole.

Luca looked at me. “We give him what he wants. But we don’t play by his rules.”

He took out his phone and made a call. “Get me the architect’s blueprints for the Opera House. And tell the armory to prep the silent gear.”

He hung up and looked at my torn apron. “You can’t go in looking like that. The Opera House requires formal attire.”

Thirty minutes later, we were at a high-end boutique that Luca’s family owned. I emerged from the dressing room wearing a floor-length, deep green silk gown. My hair was pinned up, hiding the bruises on my arms.

Luca stood waiting, wearing a fresh tuxedo that made him look less like a gangster and more like a king.

He walked over to me, holding a velvet box.

“Emily, listen to me,” he said softly. “When we go in there, you are not a maid. You are my date. You stand tall. You don’t look away from anyone. Do you understand?”

I nodded, my breath catching in my throat.

He opened the box. Inside was a magnificent diamond necklace.

“Put this on,” he instructed.

I turned around, and he gently fastened the cool metal around my neck.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

“It’s a tracker,” Luca replied smoothly. “And the center diamond is a high-frequency microphone. If we get separated, I will hear everything.”

We arrived at the Opera House as the second act was beginning. The music swelled through the grand lobby.

We walked up the sweeping staircase toward Box 4.

Luca pushed the velvet curtain aside.

Sitting in the dim light of the private box was Vanessa Bellini. She was alone, wearing a smug smile, holding a glass of champagne.

“Hello, darling,” Vanessa purred. “I see you brought the help.”

Luca stepped in. “Where are they, Vanessa?”

She took a sip of her drink. “First, hand over the journal.”

Luca pulled the leather book from his jacket and tossed it onto the empty chair next to her.

Vanessa smiled, picking it up. She flipped through the pages.

Then, she looked at me and laughed.

“You really shouldn’t have worn green, Emily. It clashes with the color of blood.”

Before Luca could react, a cold metal barrel pressed against the back of my neck from behind the curtain.

“Drop the gun, Moretti,” a harsh voice whispered.

It was Arthur.

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