Chapter 3 - THE REASON HE BROUGHT ME INTO HIS HOUSEFor nine months, I had believed Luca Moretti hired me because his housekeeper needed another employee.
I had filled out an application.
Attended an interview.
Passed a background check.
And cried in my car when Mrs. Romano, the head housekeeper, called to say I'd gotten the position.
The salary was almost twice what I'd earned cleaning hotel rooms downtown.
For the first time since my father's death, I could afford my mother's medication without choosing which utility bill to pay late.
I had thanked God for that job.
Now I stood in Luca Moretti's dining room, wondering whether every kind word, every generous paycheck, and every quiet act of consideration had been part of a much larger deception.
"You knew who I was?" I repeated.
Luca didn't look away.
"Yes."
"Before I applied?"
"Yes."
A bitter laugh escaped my throat.
"So I didn't get the job because I was qualified."
"You were qualified."
"But that's not why you hired me."
He remained silent.
That was answer enough.
I stepped backward.
Vanessa watched us with a satisfied expression.
"Oh, this is beautiful," she murmured. "The mighty Luca Moretti finally running out of lies."
"Be quiet," he said.
But I barely heard him.
I remembered my first week in the mansion.
Mrs. Romano had introduced me to Luca in the kitchen one rainy morning.
He'd been wearing a dark sweater, holding a cup of black coffee, and arguing quietly with someone on his phone.
When Mrs. Romano mentioned my name, he'd gone still.
Olivia Hayes.
He'd repeated it.
Then he'd looked at me for a long moment before saying, "Welcome to the house."
I'd assumed he was simply being polite.
Now I realized he'd recognized the name.
"Why?" I whispered.
Luca glanced toward Vanessa.
"Not here."
I shook my head.
"No. You don't get to decide that."
His eyes returned to mine.
"Olivia—"
"Why did you hire me?"
He took a slow breath.
"Because your father saved my life."
The room seemed to tilt.
I grabbed the back of a chair.
"What?"
"Eleven years ago, Thomas Hayes pulled me out of a burning warehouse."
My heart pounded so hard I could hear it.
"That's impossible."
"It happened the night my father was killed."
"No."
Luca's expression softened.
"Olivia."
"My father died in an accident."
"That's what you were told."
I stared at him.
For eleven years, my family had lived with a single story.
A forklift malfunction.
A warehouse fire.
A terrible industrial accident.
The insurance company had paid a modest settlement that disappeared into funeral expenses and debts.
My mother had spent the following decade wondering whether Dad had suffered.
And now this man was telling me there had been more.
"Tell me everything," I demanded.
Luca gestured toward the adjoining sitting room.
I didn't move.
"Here."
For a moment, he looked as though he might argue.
Then he nodded.
"My father, Alessandro Moretti, was trying to separate our shipping company from people who'd been using it for illegal weapons shipments. Victor Salazar was one of those people."
Vanessa shifted uncomfortably.
Luca continued.
"Alessandro arranged a meeting at Mercer Terminal. He believed Victor was ready to negotiate."
"But he wasn't," I said.
"No. It was a trap."
His voice grew distant.
"I was twenty-five. Stubborn. Certain I could solve everything with a gun and a bad attitude. My father told me to stay away from the warehouse. I went anyway."
I could almost picture him.
Young.
Angry.
Trying desperately to prove himself.
"Someone set an explosion near the loading docks," Luca said. "My father's security team was killed. I was trapped beneath a collapsed metal staircase."
I pressed a hand against my chest.
"Thomas found me."
He swallowed.
"Your father was working the overnight shift. He could have run. He should have run. Instead, he crawled through the smoke, lifted enough debris to free me, and carried me toward the river entrance."
Tears blurred my vision.
"That sounds like Dad."
"He kept telling me to stay awake."
Luca looked down.
"I was bleeding badly. He wrapped his jacket around my leg. When I tried to go back for my father, Thomas stopped me."
"Why?"
"Because he had seen Victor's men entering the building."
My breath caught.
"He told me to run."
Luca's jaw tightened.
"I refused. We argued. Then your father shoved me through an emergency exit and locked the door behind me."
I covered my mouth.
"He stayed inside?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Luca's eyes glistened.
"Because he had something Victor wanted."
A chill traveled down my spine.
"What?"
"An accounting ledger. It contained proof of the illegal shipments, payments to corrupt officials, and the people involved in planning my father's murder."
I stared at him.
"Where is it?"
"I don't know."
Vanessa gave a quiet, contemptuous laugh.
Luca turned sharply.
"Something funny?"
She shrugged.
"Just that you've spent eleven years looking for a little notebook, and a housemaid might have had the answer all along."
Something about her tone made me stop breathing.
"What do you mean?"
Vanessa looked at me.
"Your father wasn't as innocent as you think."
Luca stepped between us.
"Enough."
But she wasn't finished.
"He stole from people. Dangerous people. That's why he died."
"My father was a good man."
"Good men don't become involved with families like the Morettis."
"Vanessa," Luca warned.
She looked at him with open hatred.
"What? You want her to keep believing Thomas Hayes was some kind of saint?"
I felt anger rise through my fear.
"My father worked double shifts so my brother and I could eat. He walked old Mrs. Peterson home in the snow because she was afraid of falling. He fixed broken bicycles for children on our block and refused payment."
My voice broke.
"He came to every school concert, even when he was exhausted."
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
"And?"
"And you don't get to erase the man he was because you're afraid of what he knew."
Luca looked at me differently.
Not with pity.
With respect.
Then Marco entered.
"Detective Price is ten minutes out."
"Good," Luca said.
Marco hesitated.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"The garage camera wasn't the only system accessed today."
He held up a security report.
"Someone downloaded internal floor plans, staff schedules, and the emergency access codes."
Luca's expression darkened.
"From whose account?"
Marco looked toward Vanessa.
"Hers."
She immediately shook her head.
"That proves nothing. Someone could have stolen my password."
"Perhaps," Marco replied.
"But whoever used it sent the files to an encrypted account associated with Salazar."
Luca turned toward the security monitors.
"Lock down external access. Change every security code. Nobody enters without authorization."
"Already underway."
Then he looked at me.
"Olivia, did Vanessa take anything from you today?"
I thought about the guest room.
The drawer.
The photograph.
The letter.
And the bank statement.
"No," I said.
Then I remembered something.
"Wait."
Luca's attention sharpened.
"What?"
"When she attacked me, she searched my pockets."
"What was she looking for?"
"I don't know. She kept asking where I'd hidden it."
Luca frowned.
"Hidden what?"
"She called it the second key."
Vanessa's face changed.
It was only a flicker.
But Luca noticed.
"What second key?"
"I don't know," she snapped.
Luca stepped toward her.
"You're going to tell us."
"Or what?"
"Or you can explain it to Detective Price."
Vanessa laughed.
"You really think Eleanor Price is on your side?"
Luca stopped.
"What does that mean?"
But before Vanessa could answer, a loud crash echoed from the kitchen.
Everyone turned.
Marco immediately reached for his radio.
"Kitchen security, respond."
Static.
Another crash.
Then a woman's scream.
Mrs. Romano.
I recognized her voice instantly.
"Help!"
I moved without thinking.
Luca caught my arm.
"Stay here."
"That's Mrs. Romano!"
"Marco will handle it."
But the screaming stopped.
And that was somehow worse.
Marco disappeared through the kitchen doors with two guards.
Luca turned to another security officer.
"Get Olivia somewhere safe."
I pulled away.
"I'm not leaving until I know she's okay."
His eyes met mine.
"Olivia, someone just compromised my security system. This isn't a household accident."
A cold realization struck me.
"They came for me."
He didn't deny it.
Suddenly, the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then the entire mansion plunged into darkness.
Somewhere upstairs, a security alarm began shrieking.
Vanessa screamed.
Luca grabbed my hand.
"Stay behind me."
Emergency lights illuminated the hallway in a dull red glow.
Marco's voice crackled over the radio.
"Boss! We've got armed intruders at the service entrance!"
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Luca pulled me toward the private corridor.
"How many?"
"At least four. They knew the access code."
Vanessa began sobbing.
"Luca, please!"
He looked back at her.
"You're staying with the guards."
"No! Don't leave me!"
For the first time all evening, he sounded disgusted.
"You brought them here."
Then he guided me through a hidden door behind a bookshelf.
The narrow passage smelled of old wood and dust.
My injured face throbbed.
I struggled to keep up.
"Where are we going?"
"An emergency exit."
"Why are they after me?"
He didn't answer immediately.
We reached a steep staircase leading down into darkness.
He finally stopped.
"Because Victor believes you have something your father left behind."
"But I don't!"
Luca turned.
His expression was grave.
"Olivia, think carefully. Did your father ever give you anything unusual before he died?"
I shook my head.
"He gave me his old watch. A birthday card. A little wooden music box."
Luca went completely still.
"What kind of music box?"
"A small walnut box. He made it himself."
"Do you still have it?"
"Of course."
"Where?"
"At my mother's apartment."
His grip tightened around the railing.
"What does it play?"
The question confused me.
"Moon River."
For the first time since the dinner began, Luca looked as though he'd been struck.
"Your father used to whistle that song."
I nodded.
"Every morning."
Luca whispered something in Italian.
Then he looked directly into my eyes.
"Olivia, your father told me something before he pushed me out of that warehouse."
"What?"
"He said, 'If anything happens to me, remember the river always keeps its promises.'"
My knees weakened.
Because those were the exact words engraved inside my music box.
And I had never told anyone about them.
Before I could speak, Luca's radio hissed.
Marco's voice emerged, strained and urgent.
"Boss, they're pulling back. But we found something in the kitchen."
"What?"
A pause.
Then:
"Mrs. Romano is alive. She said the intruders weren't looking for money."
Luca closed his eyes.
"What were they looking for?"
"An old wooden music box."
Luca stared at me.
May you like
And I realized the most dangerous thing in Chicago wasn't the mafia boss standing beside me.
It was the childhood gift sitting on my mother's bedroom dresser.
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