Chapter 4 - The Girl in the Frame
The private office on the second floor was silent save for the rapid clicking of my keyboard.
Luca stood by the wide mahogany bookshelf, pouring two glasses of amber whiskey. He set one down beside my laptop.
“Drink. You look like you’re waiting for an executioner.”
“In my previous job, the biggest crisis was an overbooked honeymoon suite,” I said, taking a small sip. The liquor burned warmly down my throat. “I’m not used to corporate audits that carry a body count.”
“You handled yourself well down there,” Luca said, leaning against the edge of the desk. “Most people would have taken Vanessa’s envelope, fired Thomas, and pretended they didn't see the smoke.”
“Thomas is a good man. He didn’t deserve to be discarded.”
“Loyalty is rare in this house, Lily. Most people confuse it with fear or greed. When you find the real thing, you protect it.”
I looked up from the screen, catching his eye. For an infamous underworld figure, there was an unexpected depth of sorrow in Luca. He had inherited an empire stained with blood, and every corner of his home was filled with ghosts.
“I found something,” I said, tapping the trackpad.
Luca immediately leaned over my shoulder. The scent of cedarwood, rich espresso, and expensive wool surrounded me. His proximity sent an electric jolt down my spine, but I forced myself to focus on the data.
“Look at these transfer logs,” I explained, pointing to the columns of financial data. “Over the past three months, Vanessa’s personal accounts received four separate transfers totaling nearly two million dollars from an offshore account in the Cayman Islands. But look where the money went within twenty-four hours.”
Luca squinted at the screen. “A private investigation firm in Chicago. Apex Security Solutions.”
“I cross-referenced the firm’s public filings,” I continued. “Apex specializes in high-end forensic genealogy and skip-tracing. Vanessa wasn't just planning a wedding. She hired a team of private investigators to scour the country for a woman in her late twenties with a specific blood type and family origin.”
“She was hunting Vincent Morales’s daughter,” Luca growled.
“And look at this,” I clicked open a hidden sub-folder buried within the synced cloud drive from Vanessa’s guest room laptop. “Apex sent their final dossier two days ago. Subject identified.”
Luca gripped the back of my chair. “Who is she?”
I opened the document.
A scanned photograph filled the screen.
It showed a twenty-eight-year-old woman with dark wavy hair, kind brown eyes, and a small silver clover necklace resting against her collarbone. She was wearing a nurse’s uniform, smiling outside of St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital in Philadelphia.
Underneath the photo was a name:
Elena Ramos. Registered Nurse. Formerly known as Sophia Morales.
“She’s a pediatric nurse,” I whispered, reading the notes. “She has no idea who her real father was. She was adopted by a foster family in Pennsylvania when she was six.”
“And Marco Bellini’s men are already on their way to Philadelphia,” Luca realized, his jaw clenching so hard the muscle ticked.
He reached for his phone and dialed.
“Daniel. Mobilize the strike team. Four cars, heavily armed. We leave in ten minutes.”
“Sir?” Daniel’s voice came over the speaker.
“We’re going to Pennsylvania. If the Bellinis reach that hospital before we do, there won't be an Elena Ramos left to save.”
Luca hung up. He looked down at me.
“Lily, pack your things. You’re coming with us.”
I blinked. “Me? Mr. Moretti, I’m an assistant house manager, not a bodyguard.”
“You’re the only person who has looked at this data who isn't on the syndicate payroll,” Luca said, his voice deadly serious. “And Elena Ramos won't trust four men in tactical gear with guns. She needs to see a normal face. Someone who can get her out of that building before the shooting starts.”
He reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a sleek, compact semi-automatic pistol, and placed it next to my keyboard.
“Do you know how to shoot?”
May you like
“My father was a state trooper,” I answered, staring at the weapon.
“Good,” Luca said, locking his gaze with mine. “Keep it in your jacket. Pray you don’t have to use it. But if someone wearing a Bellini pin tries to touch you or that girl... you don’t hesitate.”
