Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO WASN'T SUPPOSED TO EXISTLuca did not shout.
That frightened Sofia more than shouting would have.
He simply stood beneath the chandelier while the final guests disappeared through the mansion's front doors.
“Take Lily to the kitchen,” he told Mrs. Bellini.
Lily tightened her arms around Sofia.
“No.”
Sofia knelt.
“Sweetheart, go with Mrs. Bellini. She'll give you hot chocolate.”
“But you're scared.”
Sofia's face crumpled for one second.
Then she kissed Lily's forehead.
“I'm okay.”
Luca noticed the exchange.
He noticed everything.
Lily eventually followed Mrs. Bellini from the ballroom.
The moment the door closed, Luca turned toward his security chief.
“Marco. Lock the estate.”
Marco DeSantis nodded.
“Phones?”
“Collect every staff phone except yours.”
Sofia's eyes widened.
“Please, Mr. Moretti. I haven't done anything to hurt you.”
“You knew Elena was alive.”
“I knew someone named Elena.”
“You knew exactly who she was.”
Silence.
Luca walked toward the fireplace.
Four years of grief pressed against the inside of his skull.
He had identified bodies in morgues because they matched Elena's height.
He had interrogated men who claimed they had seen her.
He had once flown to Prague because a grainy airport photograph showed a woman wearing Elena's coat.
He had mourned her without ever admitting she was dead.
And all that time, one of his own employees knew.
“How long?” he asked.
Sofia hesitated.
“Three years.”
Luca turned.
“You've worked in my house for eighteen months.”
“Yes.”
“You applied here knowing who I was.”
“Yes.”
Marco swore under his breath.
Luca's gaze hardened.
“Why?”
Sofia looked toward the closed kitchen door.
“Because Elena asked me to.”
That answer was worse.
“Where is she?”
“I can't tell you.”
Luca laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“Sofia, there are very few people in Chicago who would look me in the eye and say that.”
“I'm not trying to disrespect you.”
“You've been inside my home for eighteen months while I searched for her.”
“I know.”
“You've watched me pay investigators.”
“Yes.”
“You've heard her name.”
“Yes.”
“And every night, you went home knowing where she was.”
Tears slid down Sofia's cheeks.
“Because she was terrified of you.”
That silenced the room.
Even Marco looked away.
Luca's expression barely moved.
But something inside him cracked.
“Of me?”
“She believed you'd kill her if you discovered the truth.”
“What truth?”
Sofia covered her face.
“I promised.”
Luca crossed the distance between them.
When he spoke again, his voice was unexpectedly calm.
“I loved Elena.”
Sofia lowered her hands.
“She loved you too.”
“Then why did she run?”
“She didn't.”
Luca stared.
Sofia whispered, “She was taken.”
The mansion suddenly felt colder.
“By whom?”
“I don't know everything.”
“Tell me what you do know.”
Sofia looked toward the second floor.
For a moment Luca wondered why.
Then he heard something.
A faint click.
Marco heard it too.
His hand moved beneath his jacket.
“Someone's upstairs.”
They ran.
Luca took the staircase two steps at a time.
The upper corridor was empty.
A service door near the gallery swung gently.
Marco shouted into his radio.
“North hall! Seal the exits!”
Luca entered the gallery.
A window stood open.
Snow blew across the carpet.
Outside, a shadow disappeared beyond the hedge.
Marco's men rushed through the garden below.
But whoever had been watching was gone.
On the floor lay a black glove.
Luca picked it up.
Inside the wrist was embroidered a tiny silver crest.
A falcon.
He recognized it.
The Falconieri family.
His father's oldest enemies.
Luca's stomach tightened.
He returned downstairs.
Sofia saw the glove and turned white.
“You know this symbol?” Luca asked.
She nodded.
Elena had mentioned it.
“When?”
“The first night I met her.”
Sofia sank into a chair.
“She came into the women's shelter where I worked in Milwaukee. She had no luggage. No identification. She was pregnant.”
Luca's entire body went rigid.
Marco slowly looked at him.
Sofia continued.
“She had bruises everywhere. Her wrist had been broken. She wouldn't let anyone call police. She kept saying someone would find her.”
Luca felt sick.
Pregnant.
Elena had been pregnant.
“When?”
Sofia whispered the date.
Luca calculated immediately.
Three months after Elena vanished.
His gaze drifted toward the kitchen.
Lily.
Four years old.
Hazel eyes.
The dance.
“No.”
Sofia began crying harder.
“Mr. Moretti…”
“Is Lily mine?”
Sofia said nothing.
Luca grabbed the back of a chair.
“Is that child my daughter?”
“Not exactly.”
The words struck like a bullet.
“What does that mean?”
“Elena was pregnant when she escaped. But Lily isn't the baby.”
Luca's confusion deepened.
Sofia took a shaky breath.
“Elena lost that pregnancy.”
Luca closed his eyes.
For one brief second, the powerful man in the black suit disappeared.
Only a grieving father remained.
Sofia continued softly.
“She nearly died.”
“What happened?”
“She wouldn't tell me. Not then.”
“And Lily?”
“My biological daughter. Her father left before she was born. Elena and I lived together afterward. She helped me raise Lily. Lily calls her Mama Lena.”
Luca opened his eyes.
“So Elena taught her the dance.”
“Yes.”
“Where is Elena now?”
Sofia shook her head.
“I can't tell you.”
Marco stepped forward.
“Sofia, someone from the Falconieri organization was inside this house tonight. If Elena is connected to them, she may be in danger.”
Sofia's fear changed.
“What?”
Luca handed her the glove.
She stared at it.
Then everything drained from her face.
“Oh God.”
“What?”
“She called me this morning.”
“Elena?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“That she thought someone had found her.”
Luca's voice hardened.
“And you still refuse to tell me where she is?”
Sofia looked toward the kitchen.
“I need Lily safe.”
“She will be.”
“You can't promise that.”
“I can.”
“You don't understand. These people know things about you. Your schedule. Your properties. Your family.”
“How?”
“I don't know.”
Luca leaned closer.
“Tell me where Elena is.”
Sofia finally surrendered.
“She runs a dance school under another name outside Milwaukee.”
Luca was already moving.
Marco caught his shoulder.
“We need men.”
“We're going now.”
“Boss—”
“Now.”
Twenty minutes later, three black SUVs tore through the snow toward Wisconsin.
Luca sat silently in the rear seat.
On his phone was a photograph Sofia had shown him.
It had been taken six months earlier.
Elena stood outside a small dance studio.
Her dark hair was shorter.
She was thinner.
There was a faint scar near her temple.
But it was her.
Alive.
Four years.
Alive.
Luca stared until the photograph blurred.
Behind him, Sofia whispered, “She'll hate me for this.”
Luca didn't look up.
“If she's alive long enough to hate either of us, I'll accept it.”
The drive took seventy-eight minutes.
They reached the little town after midnight.
Snow had covered the streets.
The studio stood at the end of a narrow block.
A wooden sign above the entrance read:
ELLIE'S SCHOOL OF DANCE.
The front door was open.
Luca's pulse accelerated.
Marco drew his weapon.
“Stay behind me.”
Luca ignored him.
He entered.
The reception desk had been overturned.
Glass covered the floor.
One wall mirror had shattered.
A chair lay broken.
Sofia gasped.
“No.”
They moved through the hallway.
“Elena!”
No answer.
Luca found blood on the floor.
Not much.
But enough.
He followed it into the main studio.
The room was empty.
A piano bench had been knocked over.
And painted across the mirror in red were five words.
STOP LOOKING FOR THE DEAD.
Luca stared at them.
Then Marco noticed something beneath the piano.
A phone.
Sofia picked it up.
“Elena's.”
The screen was cracked.
A video was still recording.
Marco stopped it and played the final seconds.
The image shook violently.
A man's voice shouted.
Then Elena appeared.
Older.
Terrified.
Alive.
Someone grabbed her.
She screamed.
But just before the video ended, Elena looked straight toward the phone.
May you like
And shouted one sentence that made Luca's blood run cold.
“LUCA—DON'T TRUST YOUR BROTHER!”
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