Chapter 9 - THE BRIDE WHO PLANNED A FUNERALBianca Romano had dreamed of marrying Luca Moretti since she was twenty-four.
Not because she loved him.
Not because she admired his loyalty or respected the unusual tenderness he showed his mother.
She wanted what his name represented.
The mansion.
The influence.
The private jets.
The newspapers printing her photograph beside his.
And, eventually, every dollar he controlled.
For five years, she had played the perfect future wife.
She learned which designers his mother favored.
She attended charity dinners.
She donated to children's hospitals whenever photographers were present.
She smiled through family gatherings and pretended to enjoy conversations about responsibility, loyalty, and tradition.
But underneath the expensive gowns and carefully rehearsed affection was a woman who believed wealth should belong to whoever was ruthless enough to take it.
Vittorio Moretti had recognized that hunger immediately.
And he had used it.
Now, standing inside a deserted medical storage facility outside Stamford, Bianca stared at Elena Moretti, who sat in a wheelchair near the window.
The older woman's wrists weren't bound.
There were no guards standing over her.
But the doors were locked.
Her medication had left her weak.
And the woman Bianca had bribed to bring her there stood outside with a loaded pistol.
Elena looked up.
"You've made a terrible mistake."
Bianca laughed.
"Funny. That's exactly what everyone keeps telling me."
"Let me go."
"Not yet."
"Your plan is finished."
Bianca's smile disappeared.
"My plan was perfect."
"Your plan depended on my son being a fool."
"He was a fool!"
Bianca shouted so loudly the nurse outside flinched.
"He believed everything I told him. Every tear. Every story. Every excuse."
Elena watched her silently.
Bianca began pacing.
"I spent five years becoming the woman he wanted."
"And you still didn't understand what he wanted."
Bianca turned sharply.
"What?"
"Someone he could trust."
The younger woman's expression twisted.
"Oh, spare me."
Elena continued.
"You thought you could own him through his money. But Luca has never been happiest when he's surrounded by expensive things."
Bianca stared.
"He's happiest when he knows the people he loves are safe."
For one brief moment, something uncertain flickered in Bianca's eyes.
Then it vanished.
"Well, he's about to learn he can't keep everyone safe."
Luca's first instinct was to drive directly to Saint Catherine's.
His second was to call every man who had ever owed him a favor.
His third was to find Bianca and make her regret every decision she'd ever made.
But then he looked at Emma.
She stood beside the ambulance, one hand resting on her father's shoulder.
Her eyes were fixed on him.
She could read his anger.
The dangerous stillness.
The way his hands clenched.
And she knew exactly what he was thinking.
"Luca."
He stopped.
She approached.
"Don't."
His jaw tightened.
"She has my mother."
"I know."
"If Bianca hurts her—"
"Then we need to bring her home."
Luca stared at her.
Emma took a breath.
"But you can't rescue your mother by becoming the man Vittorio wanted you to be."
The words struck him.
"Emma—"
"Look at me."
He did.
She touched his arm.
"You have the police. You have the records. You have people who care about you."
Her voice softened.
"You don't have to turn this into another family war."
Luca looked toward Richard and Noah.
The three Whitcombs had spent twenty-two years living with the consequences of his family's crimes.
He could continue that cycle.
Or he could end it.
He slowly opened his hands.
"Marco."
His security chief stepped closer.
"Coordinate with the investigators. Everything goes through them."
Marco nodded.
"And Bianca?"
Luca looked at Emma.
"We bring her in alive."
The breakthrough came from Agnes Doyle.
The elderly housekeeper called Luca at 4:42 p.m.
"Master Luca?"
He stepped into a quiet hallway.
"Agnes. Are you safe?"
"Of course. I'm old, not helpless."
Despite everything, he almost smiled.
"What's wrong?"
"I remembered something about Miss Romano."
"What?"
"She used to visit a property in Stamford. Always told the chauffeur she was seeing a dressmaker."
Luca frowned.
"A dressmaker?"
"Yes. But she never returned with dresses."
"What address?"
Agnes gave him the location.
Luca wrote it down.
"How do you know?"
A pause.
Then Agnes said:
"Because I raised three Moretti children, buried more secrets than I care to remember, and never believed that woman could sew a button."
The building was registered to a medical supply company.
That company was owned by a holding corporation linked to Bianca's father's investment group.
Investigators traced the vehicles used to remove Elena from Saint Catherine's.
One had stopped at the property.
Its driver had turned off the tracking device for thirty-eight minutes.
Aerial surveillance showed two people inside.
One was seated in a wheelchair.
The other wore a cream-colored coat.
Bianca.
Luca arrived at the police command post just after sunset.
Emma came with him.
He had objected.
She had reminded him of their agreement.
Now they stood behind a line of vehicles while officers prepared to contact Bianca.
A negotiator called her phone.
She answered immediately.
"Good evening, gentlemen."
The negotiator identified himself.
Bianca laughed.
"How official."
"Ms. Romano, we need to know whether Elena Moretti is safe."
"She's perfectly comfortable."
"Can we speak with her?"
A pause.
Then Elena's voice.
"Luca?"
He stepped toward the phone.
"Mom!"
"I'm all right, darling."
Bianca took the phone back.
"Isn't this sweet?"
The negotiator remained calm.
"Bianca, we'd like to resolve this peacefully."
"Then give me what I want."
"What is that?"
"Twenty million dollars transferred to an account I choose. A vehicle. Safe passage."
Luca stared at the phone.
Twenty million dollars.
After everything she'd stolen, everything she'd destroyed, she still wanted money.
The negotiator continued speaking.
But Luca turned away.
He noticed Emma standing near the edge of the command tent.
Her face had gone pale.
"What's wrong?"
She held up her phone.
A message had arrived from an unknown number.
Tell Luca to look in his mother's blue jewelry box. He'll find the truth about why Bianca chose him.
Below it was a photograph.
A velvet box.
Luca recognized it.
His mother kept it inside the safe in her dressing room.
Emma showed him the sender.
Unknown.
Then another message arrived.
You have ten minutes.
Luca stared at it.
"That's not Bianca."
Emma nodded.
"I know."
"Who is it?"
She swallowed.
"Someone who's watching her."
The jewelry box was recovered from Elena's room at the estate.
Marco had a guard bring it to the command post.
Inside were several antique brooches, a string of pearls, and a small photograph of Elena with another woman.
Luca frowned.
He didn't recognize her.
On the back, in Elena's handwriting, was a name.
Margaret Romano. Summer 1993.
Bianca's mother.
Luca stared.
He had met Margaret Romano only twice before her death six years earlier.
She had seemed quiet.
Reserved.
Uncomfortable whenever Vittorio entered the room.
Beneath the photograph was an old bank statement.
An account jointly controlled by Margaret Romano and Vittorio Moretti.
And a notarized letter.
Luca opened it.
The document was dated twenty-seven years earlier.
It described a secret financial arrangement between Vittorio and Margaret, who had been involved with him before marrying Bianca's father.
The arrangement included regular payments and concealed ownership of several properties.
Attached was a handwritten confession from Margaret.
I allowed Vittorio to use my accounts because I was afraid he would expose our relationship. When I discovered what he was doing with the money, I tried to stop him.
I found evidence of the plan against Richard Whitcomb. I copied the records and gave them to Elena.
If my daughter Bianca ever learns the truth, I pray she chooses a different life.
Luca read the final sentence twice.
Bianca's mother had known.
She had tried to stop the crimes.
And Bianca had chosen to help the same man who destroyed her mother's life.
Emma leaned closer.
"There's another page."
Luca turned it over.
The paper contained a small handwritten note.
Bianca found the letters after Margaret died. Vittorio convinced her that Elena was responsible for Margaret's suffering. He promised Bianca the Moretti fortune in exchange for her silence.
Luca closed his eyes.
For the first time, he understood the hatred Bianca had always concealed behind her smile.
She hadn't simply wanted wealth.
She wanted revenge against a woman who had attempted to expose the man Bianca believed had loved her mother.
Vittorio had turned the truth backward.
And Bianca had built her entire future around that lie.
Inside the warehouse, Bianca watched a red dot move across the screen of her phone.
A tiny tracker hidden inside the jewelry box had alerted her when Luca opened it.
She smiled.
"Finally."
Elena looked up.
"What?"
"Your son found the letters."
Elena went still.
"Bianca."
The younger woman turned.
"What?"
"Your mother came to me because she was afraid."
Bianca's smile faded.
"Don't."
"She discovered Vittorio was stealing from innocent families."
"Stop talking."
"She wanted to protect you."
Bianca slammed her palm against the table.
"My mother died miserable because of you!"
Elena shook her head.
"No."
Tears filled her eyes.
"Your mother died trying to free herself from Vittorio."
Bianca stared.
For a moment, her expression seemed almost childlike.
"You lie."
"I have the letters."
"They're forged."
"Bianca, your mother was my friend."
The younger woman's face crumpled.
Then she pulled it back together.
"No."
She stepped toward Elena.
"You stole everything from her."
Elena whispered:
"Vittorio stole everything from all of us."
Silence.
Bianca's phone rang.
She answered.
A man's voice spoke.
Luca.
"Bianca."
She closed her eyes.
"Darling."
"Your mother tried to stop Vittorio."
"Shut up."
"She helped my mother collect evidence."
"I said shut up!"
"Vittorio lied to you."
Bianca began trembling.
"No."
"He used her. Then he used you."
She looked toward Elena.
The older woman watched her with pity.
And that pity seemed to hurt more than anger.
"You're lying," Bianca whispered.
Luca continued.
"I have the original letters. You can read them. You can tell investigators what Vittorio did."
"And then what?"
Her voice broke.
"I spend the rest of my life in prison?"
"You'll have to answer for what you've done."
Bianca laughed bitterly.
"There it is."
"Bianca—"
"No, Luca. You don't get to play the hero."
She looked around the warehouse.
At the locked doors.
The frightened nurse.
Elena sitting helplessly in the wheelchair.
Her own expensive coat stained with dust.
Everything had collapsed.
The wedding.
The fortune.
The future she had imagined.
And suddenly she understood that there was no magical escape.
No last-minute miracle.
No handsome mafia boss who would forgive her because she cried.
She had crossed too many lines.
And now she was standing at the end of them.
Bianca slowly reached into her handbag.
Elena watched.
"Bianca, don't."
She withdrew a small pistol.
Then raised it toward the older woman.
Outside, Luca heard the commotion through the open telephone line.
"Bianca!"
The woman's voice shook.
"If I can't have the Moretti family..."
Her finger tightened on the weapon.
"...then nobody will."
A sudden crash echoed through the phone.
Elena screamed.
And the line went dead.
For three seconds, Luca could not move.
Then the building's side door burst open.
The nurse who had been guarding Elena stumbled outside, her hands raised.
"Help!" she screamed.
Police officers rushed forward.
Inside, Bianca stood near the wheelchair.
The pistol had fallen to the floor.
Elena was alive.
But barely conscious.
A second woman stood behind Bianca.
Sophia Bell.
Bianca's closest friend.
The same woman who had helped torment Emma in Luca's bedroom.
Sophia held Bianca's wrist tightly.
"She was going to shoot her!" Sophia cried.
Bianca struggled.
"Let go of me!"
Sophia began sobbing.
"I can't do this anymore!"
Officers entered and secured both women.
Medical personnel hurried toward Elena.
Luca followed the responders through the doorway.
He barely saw Bianca.
Barely heard her screaming his name.
He went directly to his mother.
"Mom?"
Elena opened her eyes.
"Luca."
He fell to his knees.
"I'm here."
Her hand touched his cheek.
"Your father would be proud."
His throat tightened.
"Don't talk."
She smiled faintly.
"You finally broke the cycle."
He pressed his forehead against hers.
"No more secrets."
Elena closed her eyes.
"No more secrets."
Bianca was led outside in handcuffs.
Her expensive coat hung crookedly from her shoulders.
Mascara streaked down her cheeks.
When she saw Luca, she stopped.
"Luca!"
He turned.
For one moment, the entire world seemed to hold its breath.
Bianca looked at him desperately.
"Please."
He said nothing.
"I loved you."
Emma stood several feet behind him.
She could see the uncertainty in Bianca's expression.
It was not remorse.
Not yet.
It was the terror of losing everything.
Luca looked at the woman he had once planned to marry.
Then said:
"No, Bianca."
His voice was quiet.
"You loved what you thought I could give you."
She began crying harder.
"Please don't let them take me."
Luca stepped closer.
For a moment, Bianca looked hopeful.
Then he spoke.
"Emma begged you to stop hurting her."
Bianca froze.
"My mother begged you to stop."
He glanced toward the ambulance.
"And you never listened."
Bianca's face crumpled.
Luca stepped back.
"Now it's time for you to listen to the consequences."
The officers led her away.
Luca did not follow.
He turned toward Emma.
She was standing beneath the flashing emergency lights, her injured arm pressed against her side.
He approached slowly.
"Are you all right?"
She looked at him.
Then gave a small, trembling smile.
"I think I will be."
Luca nodded.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Emma reached for his hand.
And he held it.
Not as her employer.
Not as her protector.
But as a man who had finally learned what love was supposed to look like.
Unfortunately, one final secret remained.
And Luca would discover it the following morning.
When investigators opened Vittorio Moretti's private safe, they found a sealed envelope marked with Elena's name.
Inside was a document signed by Luca's father.
A document that could transfer control of the entire Moretti fortune.
Not to Luca.
Not to Elena.
May you like
But to someone nobody expected.
Emma Whitcomb.
