Chapter 2 - THE FATHER WHO BURIED A LIVING WOMAN“Give me those keys, Luca, and I might let everyone in this house walk out alive.”
The voice came from the darkness beyond the dining-room doors.
Luca didn't move.
The emergency lights flickered on, casting a dull red glow across the marble floor.
Standing beneath the grand staircase was a man I recognized from the portraits in Luca's private office.
Vittorio Moretti.
Seventy-one years old.
Silver hair.
Perfectly tailored charcoal suit.
A walking cane with a polished ivory-colored handle.
He had retired from public life years earlier, leaving Luca to control the Moretti businesses.
But retirement hadn't softened him.
His face carried the cold certainty of a man who expected the world to obey him.
Behind him stood six armed security contractors in dark jackets.
Marco immediately stepped between Vittorio and the dining room.
“Mr. Moretti, this is a private event.”
Vittorio smiled faintly.
“Everything inside this house belongs to my family.”
Luca walked forward.
“Not anymore.”
His father stopped smiling.
For several seconds, they stared at each other.
The resemblance was unmistakable.
The same dark eyes.
The same strong jaw.
The same ability to fill a room without raising their voices.
But there was something in Vittorio's expression Luca didn't share.
A complete absence of hesitation.
Vittorio glanced at the sewing box.
Then at the recorder.
His face tightened.
“I warned Teresa to destroy that thing years ago.”
Luca's eyes moved toward his aunt.
Teresa lowered her head.
“It's true,” she whispered. “He told me to burn everything Lucia left behind.”
Vittorio gave a tired sigh.
“And you chose tonight to make a spectacle of it.”
Luca stepped closer.
“Where is Isabella?”
His father's gaze sharpened.
“Who told you that name?”
“Answer me.”
Vittorio studied him.
Then laughed quietly.
“I wondered how long it would take.”
Luca felt something cold settle in his chest.
“You knew I would eventually find out?”
“I knew your mother was sentimental. Sentimental people leave evidence.”
Luca's hands curled into fists.
“You told me she died.”
“She was dead to this family.”
The words landed like stones.
I saw Luca's expression change.
Not rage.
Something deeper.
A terrible kind of grief.
“You let me bury an empty coffin.”
Vittorio tilted his head.
“Would you have preferred the truth at sixteen?”
“Yes.”
“You were a child.”
“I was her son.”
Vittorio's smile vanished.
“You were my heir.”
The room fell silent.
And suddenly, the shape of the betrayal became clearer.
Vittorio hadn't merely hidden a family scandal.
He had rewritten his son's life to preserve control.
Luca stared at him.
“What did my mother do?”
Vittorio looked almost amused.
“She discovered things that didn't concern her.”
“What things?”
“Financial arrangements. Business relationships. Matters better left to men who understand how the world works.”
Luca said nothing.
Vittorio continued.
“Your mother was stubborn. She thought she could take you both away.”
“Both?”
“Don't make me repeat myself.”
“Isabella was sixteen too.”
“She was weak.”
Luca's face hardened.
“Careful.”
Vittorio stepped closer.
“Your sister suffered from certain difficulties. Your mother made them worse.”
Teresa shook her head.
“That's a lie.”
Vittorio turned.
“Be quiet.”
Teresa stood straighter.
“No. I've been quiet for twenty-two years.”
The old man's expression turned dangerous.
“You remember what happened the last time you challenged me.”
Tears filled Teresa's eyes.
But she didn't sit down.
“I remember exactly.”
Luca looked between them.
“What happened?”
Teresa's hands trembled.
“Vittorio threatened my husband. He said if I ever contacted you, he would destroy our family.”
Luca stared at her.
“And you believed him?”
“Yes.”
“Was he telling the truth?”
Teresa looked at Vittorio.
Then whispered:
“He always did what he promised.”
For a moment, Luca looked as though he might collapse beneath the weight of everything he'd learned.
Instead, he turned toward his father.
“You don't get to threaten anyone in this house anymore.”
Vittorio chuckled.
“You've built quite a reputation, son. But reputation and power aren't the same thing.”
He raised one hand.
Two of his men stepped forward.
Marco's security team moved into position.
The entire room tightened with fear.
Luca didn't reach for a weapon.
He simply spoke.
“Dad, if you brought men here to frighten me, you wasted a trip.”
Vittorio's expression changed.
“Don't be foolish.”
“Where is Isabella?”
“You won't like what you find.”
“That's my decision.”
“No.”
Vittorio struck the floor with his cane.
“It's mine.”
Luca looked at him for several seconds.
Then he turned toward Marco.
“Show him.”
Marco removed a tablet from his jacket.
On the screen appeared live footage from the mansion's security system.
The black SUVs outside.
The men standing around them.
And a series of incoming police vehicles approaching the property.
Vittorio narrowed his eyes.
“What have you done?”
“I called an attorney and asked him to contact law enforcement.”
His father's expression hardened.
“You would bring police into our home?”
“To investigate the disappearance of my mother and sister?”
Luca stepped closer.
“Without hesitation.”
Vittorio stared at him.
Then he smiled.
It was a strange smile.
Almost proud.
“You've finally become dangerous.”
Luca shook his head.
“No. I've finally become someone you can't control.”
Outside, sirens grew louder.
Vittorio looked toward the windows.
Then back at Luca.
“You think St. Catherine's will give up its secrets because you show up with a lawyer?”
“It's a start.”
Vittorio leaned toward him.
His next words were barely audible.
“By midnight, there won't be anyone left in room 318.”
Luca's eyes darkened.
“Where are they taking her?”
His father said nothing.
“Where?”
Vittorio slowly straightened.
“Ask your fiancée.”
Vanessa began shaking.
Luca turned toward her.
“What does he mean?”
She stared at Vittorio.
The old man smiled.
“Go on, Vanessa. Tell him what your family has been doing with my money.”
Vanessa backed away.
“I didn't know they were moving her tonight.”
Luca's voice turned cold.
“Moving her where?”
Vanessa's eyes filled.
“There's a transport company. My father uses it for private medical transfers.”
“What company?”
She looked at the floor.
“Northlake Patient Services.”
Marco immediately began searching on his phone.
Vanessa continued.
“They operate through an old airfield near Kenosha.”
Luca stared at her.
“An airfield?”
She nodded.
“They move patients across state lines.”
“Without permission?”
Vanessa covered her face.
“I don't know what they actually do.”
Luca looked toward the driveway, where police lights were flashing.
Then back at Vittorio.
“You're not leaving.”
His father smiled.
“Neither is your sister.”
The words sounded too certain.
Luca felt a sudden chill.
He looked at Marco.
“Call the state police. Tell them to get someone to St. Catherine's immediately.”
Marco nodded.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A distorted voice spoke from the other end.
“Tell Luca Moretti he has forty-five minutes.”
Marco's expression drained.
“What are you talking about?”
The voice continued.
“If he wants his sister alive, he comes alone.”
A pause.
Then:
“And tell him not to bring the police.”
The call disconnected.
Marco slowly lowered the phone.
Luca looked at him.
“What did they say?”
Before Marco could answer, another message appeared.
A photograph.
A woman in a hospital gown sat on the edge of a narrow bed.
Dark hair.
Pale skin.
Eyes that looked heartbreakingly familiar.
Around her wrist was a white identification band.
ISABELLA MORETTI.
And beneath the image were five words:
May you like
SHE HAS FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LEFT.
END OF CHAPTER 2
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