Chapter 5 - Bloodlines and Broken Masks
Upstairs in the third-floor suite, Dr. Harris gently wraps a tight fiberglass cast around my left ankle.
"A hairline fracture of the fibula," the doctor says, wiping his hands on a sterile towel.
"Another hour on your feet and you would have required surgery with metal pins, young lady."
"Thank you, Doctor," I whisper, exhaustion pulling heavily at my eyelids.
The door opens without a sound, and Luca Moretti walks into the room.
He has discarded his wet shirt and now wears a charcoal cashmere sweater and dark tailored trousers.
His hair is slightly disheveled, and the air around him feels charged with dangerous electricity.
"Leave us," Luca instructs the physician.
Dr. Harris bows his head respectfully and exits immediately, closing the oak door behind him.
Luca pulls an armchair across the hardwood floor, sitting down directly across from my sofa.
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, studying my exhausted face.
"Martha Vance is in an ambulance heading to Northwestern Memorial under armed guard," Luca says.
My breath catches in my throat.
"Is she... is she alive?"
"She will survive," Luca replies softly. "Because of you."
Tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away, fearful of showing weakness before him.
"I'm sorry I lied to you at the dinner table, Mr. Moretti," I murmur.
"She threatened to tell you I was a thief. She said you would kill me without asking questions."
Luca tilts his head, a faint, humorless smile touching the corner of his mouth.
"Is that what you think of me, Natalie? That I execute innocent women who clean my floors?"
"I know who you are, sir," I say honestly, meeting his gaze. "People in this city know what your family does."
"Then you should also know," Luca's voice drops to a low, velvet hum, "that the Moretti family protects its own."
"You risked your life trying to save a helpless old woman in my basement."
"You worked through excruciating pain to keep this household functioning."
"And my supposed bride repaid your loyalty by breaking your bone and threatening your life."
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick manila envelope, tossing it onto the coffee table between us.
"What is this, Mr. Moretti?"
"Your back pay, your medical expenses, and a deed to a three-bedroom house in Lincoln Park," he says.
My jaw drops, my heart hammering wildly against my ribs.
"I... I can't accept that, sir! That's hundreds of thousands of dollars!"
"You can, and you will," Luca says, his tone brooking no argument.
"Consider it an advance on your new position as the estate's private household manager."
"Assuming, of course, you don't mind continuing to work for a monster like me."
"You're not a monster," the words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them.
Luca blinks, clearly taken aback by my sudden boldness.
"You checked on my foot before you cared about your antique crystal," I say softly.
"You covered that old woman with your own suit jacket."
"A real monster wouldn't have noticed either of us."
Luca stares at me in the quiet room, his dark eyes softening in a way no associate in Chicago has ever seen.
Down below, the sudden sound of screeching tires and barking guard dogs shatters the night silence.
Luca rises smoothly to his feet, pulling a custom black semi-automatic pistol from his waist holster.
May you like
He checks the chamber with a quiet, metallic click and slides it back into place.
"Stay in this room, Natalie," Luca says, turning toward the doorway.
