Chapter 4 - THE CHILD'S DRAWING
The bank statement on the back of Leo's drawing was covered in numbers.
Large numbers.
Millions of dollars.
"Where did you get this?" Luca demanded, taking the paper from my shaking hands.
"I didn't," I stammered, tears blurring my vision. "Leo drew this at the kitchen table yesterday. It was just scrap paper from my recycling bin."
Luca stared at the document.
"This is a Cayman Islands offshore routing number," Luca said. "It's a transfer receipt. Two million dollars. Moved from my family's holding company... to the Falcone syndicate."
The Falcones.
The most ruthless rival family in Chicago.
"Vanessa has been stealing from you," Dr. Harris said, leaning against the doorframe, his face pale. "For three years. She's been siphoning your family's money and funneling it to the Falcones."
Luca's eyes darkened with a terrifying rage.
"And my mother found out."
"Isabella caught her," Harris nodded. "She found the transfer receipts in Vanessa's office. She was going to tell you the next morning. So Vanessa slipped a fatal dose of digitalis into Isabella's nighttime tea."
I felt physically sick.
Vanessa had murdered her future mother-in-law to cover up her embezzlement.
"But how did this receipt end up in my apartment?" I asked, my voice trembling.
Luca looked at the drawing.
"Because Vanessa didn't destroy the evidence," Luca realized. "She hid it. And she used you to do it."
I stared at him, confused.
"Six months ago," Luca said, his mind racing. "Vanessa asked you to take a box of old clothing to a charity donation center on your way home, didn't she?"
My breath hitched.
"Yes. She gave me a cardboard box. But the bottom fell out when I carried it into my apartment. A stack of old papers spilled everywhere. I just... I threw them in the recycling bin."
"She used you as a blind drop," Luca said. "If I ever started looking for the missing money, the paper trail wouldn't lead to her suite. It would lead to the apartment of a low-level maid."
Vanessa had framed me.
Before I even knew what was happening, she had planted the evidence in my home, ensuring I would take the fall if the mafia ever came looking for their stolen millions.
"She's a monster," I whispered.
Luca looked at Dr. Harris.
"You helped her cover up my mother's murder," Luca said softly. "You helped her frame Grace. You helped her drug my father."
"I had no choice!" Harris pleaded. "She threatened to expose my gambling debts!"
"And tonight," Luca continued, his voice void of all mercy, "you were going to kill Grace and her son."
"Luca, please!"
Luca didn't shoot him.
He didn't have to.
He struck Harris across the temple with the heavy steel grip of his pistol.
The doctor collapsed to the Persian rug, unconscious.
Luca stepped over the body and walked back to me.
"Can you walk?" he asked.
"I... I think so," I said, struggling to stand.
He caught me by the waist, supporting my weight. His grip was strong and incredibly warm.
"We need to get my father," Luca said. "And then we need to get to your apartment before Vanessa realizes Harris failed."
We moved quietly down the back corridor.
The engagement dinner was still happening in the main dining room. We could hear the faint sound of crystal glasses clinking and people laughing.
Vanessa was out there. Smiling. Playing the perfect fiancée.
We reached Antonio's suite.
Luca pushed the door open.
The wheelchair was empty.
The bed was empty.
"Dad?" Luca called out.
No answer.
I limped toward the bathroom. "Mr. Moretti, look."
Sitting on the bathroom counter was a heavy, diamond-encrusted necklace.
It was a piece I had seen a hundred times in photographs.
It was Isabella Moretti's favorite necklace.
And sitting right beside it was a syringe, completely empty.
May you like
Luca stared at the needle.
"She didn't wait for Harris," Luca whispered.
