Chapter 3 – THE SINS OF THE FATHER

The line went dead.

I stood there in the freezing apartment, the phone slipping from my hand and clattering onto the linoleum floor.

“Elena.” Luca’s hands gripped my shoulders, steadying me. “What did he say?”

I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt like it was wrapped in iron. “It was your uncle Marcus. He has my mother. He said… he said if you want Anna back, you have to trade him the documents my mother is hiding.”

Luca didn’t hesitate. He didn’t panic.

He immediately picked Lucy up from my arms and pulled his coat tight around her.

“We are going to get your mother,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “Nobody is dying tonight.”

We rushed back down the dark stairwell and into the SUV. Luca gave the driver my mother’s address in West Addison.

“Drive fast,” he ordered. “Run every light.”

As the SUV tore through the slick Chicago streets, Luca pulled out his phone. He dialed his private security chief again.

“Send two tactical teams to the West Addison apartments. Do not engage until I get there. If Marcus Moretti harms a hair on Margaret Brooks’s head, I want him bleeding before I walk into the room.”

Lucy sat quietly in the seat next to me, her little hand gripping my apron.

“Are the bad men going to hurt your mommy, Elena?” she whispered.

Tears hot and fast spilled down my cheeks. “No, sweetheart. We’re going to save her.”

Luca looked at me, his intense dark eyes cutting through the shadows of the car. “Elena, what documents is your mother hiding? What happened fifteen years ago?”

“I don’t know!” I cried, my voice breaking. “She worked for your father. She cleaned his private study. One night she came home in tears, packed our bags, and we moved to a different neighborhood. She never spoke of the Morettis again until I got the housekeeping job, and she begged me not to take it.”

Luca’s expression darkened.

Fifteen years ago.

“My father died fifteen years ago,” Luca said softly. “A sudden heart attack. At least, that’s what the coroner said.”

I stared at him. The pieces were starting to align in a horrific picture.

“You think your uncle…”

“I think my family is built on a foundation of blood,” Luca said bitterly. “And Anna somehow found out.”

The car slammed to a halt outside my mother’s apartment building.

There were no police. Just two black, unmarked vans parked near the alley. Luca’s men.

Luca didn’t wait. He grabbed a heavy steel flashlight from the side door compartment and stepped out into the rain.

“Stay here with the child,” he ordered the driver. “Lock the doors.”

He turned to me. “Stay behind me.”

We ran up the stairs to the third floor. My mother’s door was completely smashed off its hinges. The wood was splintered across the cheap hallway carpet.

Luca drew a concealed weapon from his shoulder holster. I didn’t even know he was armed.

He stepped over the threshold.

The apartment was wrecked. Drawers were pulled out, photos shattered, the couch flipped over.

“Mom!” I screamed, pushing past Luca into the living room.

She was sitting on the floor in the corner, clutching a bleeding cut on her forehead. Two of Luca’s heavily armed security men were standing guard over her, while another man was pinning someone against the wall.

It was Richard.

Not Marcus.

Richard’s expensive tuxedo was torn, and his lip was bleeding.

Luca lowered his weapon, his eyes blazing with a fury that made the room temperature drop.

“Where is Marcus?” Luca demanded, walking slowly toward his brother.

Richard spat blood onto the carpet. “You’re too late, Luca. Marcus already took what he came for.”

I ran to my mother, dropping to my knees and pulling her into my arms. “Mom! Mom, are you okay?”

She was shaking violently, crying into my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Elena. I tried to keep it hidden. I tried.”

Luca grabbed Richard by the throat, slamming him harder against the drywall. “Where is Anna?”

“You don’t understand what you’re doing!” Richard choked out, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and desperate defiance. “Anna isn’t just some innocent waitress, Luca! She lied to you from the day you met her!”

“She is the mother of my child!” Luca roared, the sound shaking the apartment walls.

“And her father was the man who murdered ours!” Richard screamed back.

Silence slammed into the room.

I stopped breathing.

Luca froze, his hand slowly loosening around his brother’s throat.

“What did you say?” Luca whispered.

Richard slid down the wall slightly, gasping for air. He looked at Luca with tears of frustration in his eyes.

“Her maiden name wasn’t Mitchell, Luca. It was Anna Vance. Her father was the rival boss who poisoned Dad fifteen years ago. Marcus found out the truth when you proposed to her.”

Richard looked at the floor. “I didn’t threaten her to protect the money, Luca. I threatened her to protect you. Because Marcus was going to have her killed.”

My mother suddenly grabbed my hand, her fingers gripping me so tight it bruised.

“He’s lying, Luca,” my mother wheezed, looking up with terrified, tear-filled eyes.

Richard stared at her. “Shut up, Margaret.”

“I won’t!” my mother cried. She pointed a trembling finger at Richard. “Your father wasn’t murdered by Anna’s father.”

She reached into her bra and pulled out a small, blood-stained envelope—the real document she had hidden.

“Your father was poisoned by Marcus,” my mother wept. “And I have the recording to prove it.”

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