Chapter 6 - The Debt Luca Never Told Me AboutThe photograph did something fear had failed to do.
He kissed my cheek.
“Norah.”
I resisted the instinct to step backward.
“Damian.”
Then he looked toward Luca.
“I heard about the café.”
Luca remained beside the windows.
“From whom?”
“It was online before police finished taking statements.”
Damian sighed.
“Everything is online now.”
He poured himself sparkling water without being invited.
That was Damian.
He treated every room as if his name was already on the deed.
“I also heard you’re considering delaying the board meeting.”
“I’m not.”
“Good.”
Something flickered across Damian’s face.
Disappointment?
Relief?
Hard to tell.
I sat on the sofa.
Luca stayed standing.
“We found evidence my security breach is connected to someone targeting the company.”
Damian lowered his glass.
“What evidence?”
“Enough.”
“That’s vague.”
“It’s intentional.”
Damian’s jaw tightened.
“You think I’m involved.”
Luca said nothing.
Damian laughed.
“Of course.”
He turned toward me.
“This is what he does, Norah. When Luca feels threatened, everyone becomes an enemy.”
I looked at him.
“Someone threatened our unborn child.”
His smile vanished.
“I’m aware.”
“Then maybe sarcasm isn’t useful.”
For a second, he seemed surprised.
People often mistook my quietness for weakness.
Raymond had.
Once.
Damian sat across from me.
“I’m sorry. Truly.”
He sounded convincing.
That was worse.
“What would you gain if Luca missed the vote?” I asked.
Luca looked at me.
Damian blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“Board control.”
His eyes hardened.
“The merger still passes.”
“With you as interim chair.”
“Only if Luca is absent.”
“So you have thought about it.”
“Of course I’ve thought about it. I’m on the board.”
Luca finally moved closer.
“Where were you the night someone entered my house?”
Damian stood.
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
“Answer.”
“At dinner with six investors.”
“Where?”
“Le Blanc.”
“Cameras?”
“Probably.”
“Good.”
Damian picked up his coat.
“You know what your problem is?”
Luca’s expression didn’t move.
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“You still think being feared is the same thing as being respected.”
He looked at me.
“And eventually Norah will understand that.”
The room changed.
Luca took one step forward.
I stood.
“Damian.”
He paused.
“Do not use me to hurt your cousin.”
A faint smile touched his lips.
“I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were.”
Silence.
Then Damian nodded.
“Fair enough.”
He left.
Luca stared at the closed door.
“You handled that better than I would have.”
“That’s why you married me.”
“One reason.”
“What are the others?”
He moved behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
“I’ll give you the complete list when we’re eighty.”
“If you survive your family that long.”
His mouth brushed my temple.
“That’s the plan.”
An hour later, Damian’s alibi checked out.
He had been at Le Blanc.
Six witnesses.
Security cameras.
Timestamped receipts.
But Detective Monroe reminded us that ordering a crime didn’t require physical presence.
The deeper investigators looked, the stranger the financial trail became.
Raymond’s legal bills were being paid through an LLC called Northshore Advisory.
Northshore belonged to another corporation.
That corporation belonged to a trust.
The trust had been established five years earlier in Delaware.
A perfect maze.
Luca’s attorneys began tracing it.
Meanwhile, I couldn’t stop thinking about Melissa.
She had helped terrorize me.
But she had also eventually run.
That difference mattered.
I visited her again without Luca.
He hated the idea.
I brought Detective Monroe.
Melissa looked surprised.
“Why are you here?”
“Because I want to know Raymond’s plan.”
“I told you everything.”
“No.”
I pulled a chair beside her bed.
“You told the police what happened.”
She frowned.
“That isn’t the same thing?”
“No.”
I knew Raymond.
Police would ask what he said.
I needed to know how he said it.
“What was he like after Bellini?”
Melissa stared at her hands.
“Happy.”
My stomach tightened.
“Happy?”
“He was furious about you being pregnant. But after the arrest…”
She shook her head.
“He was almost excited.”
“Why?”
“Because Mr. Gray told him the attack had worked.”
My skin prickled.
“What attack?”
“Bellini.”
I sat back.
Raymond choking me hadn’t been an impulsive encounter.
“He knew I would be there.”
Melissa nodded.
“How?”
“I gave him your appointment calendar. He knew you usually went to Bellini after prenatal visits.”
I fought down anger.
“He planned the confrontation?”
“Yes.”
“And Mr. Gray wanted Luca to see?”
“I think so.”
That detail mattered.
“Raymond kept asking when Mr. Moretti would arrive. He was checking the door.”
My throat felt tight.
The whole thing had been staged.
Not the violence.
Raymond’s rage was real.
But someone had positioned us.
“Why?”
Melissa whispered.
“To make Luca lose control.”
But Luca hadn’t.
He called police.
Which meant the plan had failed.
Or changed.
“What did Mr. Gray expect Luca to do?”
Melissa hesitated.
“Kill Raymond.”
The words landed heavily.
Detective Monroe stopped writing.
“What?”
“Mr. Gray said once Moretti touched Raymond, everything would fall into place.”
A chill ran through me.
Arrest.
Scandal.
Board removal.
Media chaos.
The respectable head of Moretti Holdings publicly attacking or killing a man in a café full of witnesses.
“That’s why Raymond provoked him,” I whispered.
Melissa nodded.
“He said awful things about you because Gray told him to make Luca angry.”
I remembered Raymond’s words.
You don’t know what she’s like.
She and I have history.
He had been bait.
Luca had refused.
So whoever orchestrated this escalated.
The threatening crib.
My mother.
The break-in.
The board vote.
Someone needed Luca compromised before August 18.
“Did Gray ever say anything personal?”
“What do you mean?”
“Something not about business.”
Melissa thought.
Then her expression changed.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“He called Luca by a nickname once.”
My pulse quickened.
“What nickname?”
“Lucky.”
I froze.
Only family called Luca that.
Not publicly.
Not employees.
Not business associates.
Family.
I stood.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Exactly that?”
“Lucky.”
My hand moved to my phone.
I called Luca.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Detective Monroe stood.
“What?”
“Luca told me only three people ever called him that.”
“Who?”
“His mother.”
Deceased.
“His father.”
Also deceased.
“And his uncle Vittorio.”
Monroe’s expression sharpened.
“But Vittorio lives in Italy.”
“That’s what everyone thinks.”
We called Luca’s hotel security.
No one had seen him leave.
His phone remained inside the suite.
We raced upstairs.
The room was empty.
On the dining table lay Luca’s phone.
Beside it:
A handwritten note.
NORAH,
I NEED TO HANDLE SOMETHING.
DO NOT FOLLOW ME.
I LOVE YOU.
—L
My anger hit before fear.
“Idiot.”
Monroe was already contacting security.
Hotel cameras showed Luca entering the service elevator twenty minutes earlier.
Alone.
Then another camera captured him climbing into a black SUV.
The license plate belonged to a rental agency.
We traced the vehicle.
The renter’s name stopped everyone.
Vittorio Moretti.
Luca’s uncle had returned to Chicago.
And Luca had gone to meet him without telling me.
I stared at the footage.
Then my phone rang.
Luca.
I answered immediately.
“Where are you?”
Silence.
Then a voice.
Not Luca’s.
Old.
Smooth.
Italian accent.
“Norah.”
My blood went cold.
“Vittorio.”
He laughed softly.
“So my nephew talks about me.”
“Where is Luca?”
“He is safe.”
“Put him on.”
“I’m afraid he is busy learning an unpleasant truth.”
“What truth?”
Vittorio paused.
Then said:
“The man hunting you is not Raymond Cross.”
I gripped the phone.
“Who is it?”
“You should ask your husband.”
The call disconnected.
Thirty seconds later, a photograph arrived.
Luca sat tied to a chair inside what looked like an abandoned warehouse.
Blood ran from his eyebrow.
Behind him stood Vittorio.
May you like
And across the bottom of the image someone had written:
THE MORETTI FAMILY ALWAYS COLLECTS ITS DEBTS.
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