Chapter 2 - The Mask Slipped
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The heavy oak doors of the grand dining hall slammed shut with a thud that echoed off the vaulted ceilings.
Two armed guards stepped into place, their hands resting on the grips of their holstered firearms.
Fifty high-society guests sat frozen in their seats, staring in horror at the scene unfolding before them.
Antonio Bellini stood tall, his tailored tuxedo doing little to mask the sudden tremor in his jaw.
Luca Moretti did not move a single muscle, but the air around him dropped twenty degrees.
“Repeat what you just said, Antonio,” Luca ordered, his voice dangerously low.
Antonio smoothed his satin lapels, attempting to regain the authority he usually commanded in Chicago’s corporate circles.
“Your brother has been stealing from the family shipping ports for eight months, Luca.”
“Vanessa discovered the missing manifests last week.”
“She arranged for Michael to leave quietly for London tonight so you wouldn't be forced to execute your own blood.”
Gasps echoed across the banquet table as socialites covered their mouths in disbelief.
Michael Moretti took a step backward, his face draining of all remaining color.
“That is a complete lie!” Michael shouted, slamming his fist onto the mahogany table.
“I haven't signed a single shipping manifest since our father passed away!”
Vanessa Bellini rushed to her father's side, clutching his forearm with manicured nails.
“Michael, please stop lying to protect your pride!” Vanessa cried, turning on the tears with theatrical precision.
“I only wanted to spare Luca the heartbreak of having to punish his only brother!”
She looked at Luca with wide, pleading eyes that had fooled half the city for years.
“Darling, look at me,” she begged, reaching for Luca’s tattooed hand.
“I did this out of love for you.”
Luca pulled his hand away before she could even brush his knuckles.
His dark eyes shifted slowly toward me.
I was still standing beside the sideboard, red wine dripping steadily from my apron onto the marble floor.
“Emily,” Luca said, his voice cutting through Vanessa's sobs like a razor.
“Yes, Mr. Moretti?” I replied, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to keep it steady.
“You cleared the private parlor on the second floor before dinner, didn't you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you see anyone in that room while the guests were arriving downstairs?”
Vanessa’s weeping stopped instantly, her lips parting in sudden terror.
I swallowed hard, remembering the envelope I had seen hidden inside the piano bench.
“I saw Miss Bellini speaking on an encrypted burner phone twenty minutes before the first guest arrived,” I said clearly.
“She told the person on the other end to place the forged port ledgers in Michael’s car trunk before nine o'clock.”
The entire dining hall erupted into stunned whispers.
Antonio Bellini took an aggressive step toward me, his face flushing crimson.
“You insolent little servant!” Antonio roared.
Before he could take another step, Luca crossed the floor with terrifying speed.
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Luca grabbed Antonio by the throat, shoving the older billionaire violently against the wood-paneled wall.
“Touch her,” Luca whispered into Antonio’s ear, “and you will leave this room in several pieces.”
