Chapter 4 - THE TRAP BENEATH THE AMALFI MOON
Luca slowly leaned back into his leather chair, his face losing every trace of color as the full, devious scope of Vanessa's plan clicked into place in his mind.
"She wanted Elena to believe that I was leading a double life," Luca said to himself, his voice cold as arctic ice. "She wanted my ex-wife to think I had been cheating on her replacement with her for half a decade."
"Yes, sir," I whispered, clutching my cardigan tighter around my shoulders. "She said if Elena believed that lie, it would trigger something in the old divorce settlement."
Luca's eyes narrowed sharply. "What did she say Elena still holds that belongs to me?"
I swallowed hard, wishing I was anywhere else in the world.
"She said your former family holds the controlling shares of the downtown shipping docks and the old warehouse district trusts," I answered, repeating the fragments I had overheard through the crack in the door. "She said if Elena thinks you betrayed her again, she'll block the final corporate signature out of pure spite, and the entire multi-million-dollar waterfront expansion will collapse right before the wedding."
Luca stared down at the photograph of Elena, his mind calculating the ruthless chess game Vanessa had been playing behind his back for months.
Vanessa hadn't just been marrying him for love or status; she had orchestrated a calculated corporate heist using him as a pawn to seize control of the city's most lucrative shipping routes.
"Daniel," Luca snapped, his hand instantly snatching up the secure phone.
"I'm here, boss," Daniel's voice answered immediately. "We just finished pulling William Mercer's financial records and text message logs."
"Did he send those photographs to Elena yet?" Luca demanded, his heart hammering against his ribs for the first time in years.
"Negative, boss," Daniel reported briskly. "The delivery was scheduled for tomorrow morning at nine o'clock sharp, right to her penthouse office."
Luca let out a long, slow breath of pure relief that sounded like a hiss.
"Intercept him tonight," Luca ordered, his voice dropping into the tone of absolute command that made his enemies run for the hills. "Find William Mercer wherever he's sleeping, bring his phone, bring the master folder of photographs, and bring him down to the basement holding room. I want him here in twenty minutes."
"Consider it done, boss," Daniel replied, the line going dead with a sharp click.
Luca set the phone down and slowly raised his dark eyes back to my trembling figure standing near the desk.
"You heard all of this," Luca stated, not as a question, but as a hard fact. "You knew what she was planning, and that's why she cornered you in the guest room and had Mercer hold you down while she struck your face."
"I didn't mean to hear it, Mr. Moretti, I swear to you," I cried softly, fresh tears spilling over my lower lashes. "I was just bringing extra linens for the VIP suite. The door was cracked open, and I heard her offering Mercer a ten-thousand-dollar cash bonus if he kept his mouth shut."
Luca stood up from his desk, walking slowly around the polished wood until he stood right in front of me.
He was taller than I realized, towering over me in the dim light of the study.
For a terrifying second, I thought he might silence me the same way Vanessa had tried to—to protect his family secrets, to sweep the scandal under the rug before the wedding invitations went out to the city's elite.
Instead, he reached out and gently pulled my hand away from my bruised cheek, examining the angry purple swelling with dark, unreadable eyes.
"You kept your mouth shut all evening," Luca said quietly, his voice remarkably gentle compared to the cold fury he had directed at his security team. "You served dinner to twenty-six of the most powerful people in this state with a swollen face, in pain, terrified for your job, and you didn't say a single word to anyone."
"I needed my seventy-four dollars, sir," I whispered honestly, looking down at his polished black shoes. "And I didn't think anyone would believe a junior house server over the future Mrs. Moretti."
A faint, grim ghost of a smile touched the corners of Luca's mouth for a fraction of a second.
"You underestimated me, Olivia," he said softly. "And you underestimated how much I despise being played for a fool in my own home."
He reached into his inner suit jacket pocket, pulled out a thick, leather-bound checkbook and a gold fountain pen, and scribbled something across a blank slip of paper with lightning speed.
He tore the check out and pressed it firmly into my cold palm, folding my fingers over it.
I glanced down and nearly stopped breathing.
The check was written out in my name for ten thousand dollars.
"Consider this your hazard bonus for enduring dinner tonight," Luca said firmly, closing my hand around the paper. "And your salary for the next three years paid in advance. You are officially taking a mandatory two-week paid leave starting right now."
"Mr. Moretti—I can't accept this, this is too much—" I stammered, backing away.
"Keep your voice down," he interrupted, turning his head toward the hallway. "And take the service elevator down to the staff quarters immediately. Pack your bags, stay in the downtown safehouse my security team provides, and do not answer your phone for anyone—especially not Vanessa."
Before I could argue further, the heavy study door burst open without a warning knock.
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Vanessa stood in the doorway, wearing a silk nightrobe, her face twisted in absolute fury as her eyes darted between Luca and me standing far too close together by the desk.
"What the hell is going on in my fiancé's study at eleven o'clock at night?" Vanessa demanded, her voice shrill and trembling with rage.
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