Chapter 3 - THE GHOST IN THE ARCHIVES
The heavy oak door of the study swung open silently, and Mrs. Carter stepped inside, her silver hair pulled back into a neat, dignified bun.
She looked shaken, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched a worn leather folder against her chest.
Boss, Daniel called me down from the east wing, Mrs. Carter said, her voice wavering with a mixture of confusion and anxiety.
She glanced at my bandaged face, her eyes widening in immediate maternal concern.
Good heavens, Megan, what happened to you?
Before I could answer, Luca stepped past his desk, closing the distance between himself and the woman who had raised him.
Margaret, look at me, he said softly, his voice carrying an unusual gentleness.
Did anyone enter your private quarters today while you were managing the banquet preparations?
Mrs. Carter blinked, startled by the intensity of his question.
Why, no, boss... at least, not that I was aware of, she replied, frowning.
Wait... actually, when I came down to check the silver inventory at two o'clock, I noticed my room key was missing from the hook in the pantry.
Luca's jaw tightened into a rigid line.
It wasn't missing, Margaret.
It was stolen.
He reached out, gently taking the worn leather folder from her hands and placing it on the desk.
Tell me about the trunk in my mother's private storage suite.
Mrs. Carter's breath hitched, her eyes darting nervously toward the floor.
The... the cedar wardrobe trunk from the third-floor East Attic? she asked.
The one containing her personal journals and letters from before she fell ill, Luca prompted, his gaze fixed on her face.
Did you find something in there this week?
Margaret swallowed hard, her shoulders slumping in defeat.
I... I was cleaning out the dust and airing the winter fabrics on Tuesday afternoon, she confessed, her voice dropping to a near-whisper.
The lining at the bottom of the cedar chest had torn away, revealing a hidden compartment underneath.
What was inside that compartment? Luca demanded, stepping closer.
A thick envelope sealed with purple wax, she replied, her eyes filling with tears.
It was addressed to you, boss... in your mother's handwriting.
Did you open it?
I opened the outer cover just to ensure it wasn't old banking correspondence that needed immediate shredding, Margaret admitted, her voice trembling.
I saw the first page, boss.
And what did it say?
It... it contained copies of private investigative reports and bank statements from Zurich, she whispered, looking terrified.
They detailed Miss Bellini's true financial background, her massive gambling debts in Monaco, and... and a series of correspondence proving that Vanessa's previous fiancé didn't die in a hiking accident like she claimed in the society columns.
The study seemed to grow ten degrees colder as the terrible reality settled over the room.
He was murdered, wasn't he? Luca asked, his voice entirely devoid of emotion, yet radiating lethal fury.
According to the documents your mother compiled before she lost her voice, yes, Mrs. Carter choked out, a tear finally tracing down her wrinkled cheek.
Your mother discovered the truth three days before she passed away.
She wrote that letter to warn you that Vanessa was a professional grifter targeting the Moretti estate for complete liquidation.
She tried to leave it on your desk, but Vanessa intercepted the house keys that very night.
I stood by the door, holding my breath, watching the deadliest man in Chicago absorb the devastating betrayal of the woman he had planned to marry in less than forty days.
Luca didn't shout.
He didn't smash a glass or throw a piece of furniture across the room.
Instead, his silence was far more terrifying than any explosion of rage.
He walked slowly back to his desk, picked up the phone once more, and dialed a three-digit internal extension.
Daniel, he said, his voice smooth, calm, and utterly chilling.
Have our security teams secure every exit of the estate immediately.
Nobody leaves this property tonight—not a single guest, not a single vendor, and certainly not Miss Bellini.
And bring me the security footage from the west corridor covering the master bedroom suite between ten o'clock and ten-fifteen.
He set the phone down and turned his attention back to Mrs. Carter and me.
Margaret, you are taking an immediate leave of absence with full pay starting tonight, starting in a safe location in Wisconsin under our security guard.
And Megan... you are going to be personally looked after by our private physician until your face is completely healed.
You both have my absolute word as a Moretti that no harm will ever come to you from this house again.
I opened my mouth to thank him, but before a single word could escape, a sharp, frantic hammering echoed against the heavy oak doors of the study.
The door burst open without waiting for permission.
One of the junior security guards stood on the threshold, breathing heavily, his face pale with panic.
Boss, you need to come upstairs right now, the guard blurted out, his eyes wide.
What is it, Daniel's man? Luca snapped, rounding the desk.
May you like
It's Miss Bellini, the guard stammered.
She just tried to access the private estate safe behind your father's portrait... and when she realized the master passcode had already been remotely changed from your study terminal five minutes ago, she grabbed her car keys and tried to force open the service gates in her sports car!
