Chapter 7 - The Interrogation at Sunrise
By 4:00 AM, the grand dining hall had been cleared of guests.
Every councilman, judge, and syndicate associate had been escorted to their vehicles under strict orders from Matteo: speak a single syllable about tonight’s revelations to the press or the authorities, and their commercial contracts would be terminated with extreme prejudice.
Marco Bellini sat zip-tied to a heavy oak chair in the cellar annex beneath the mansion. His broken nose had been cleaned, but the swelling had turned his left eye an ugly, mottled purple.
Vanessa sat on a wooden bench across from him, shivering in her torn red gown, wrapped in an itchy wool moving blanket someone had tossed over her shoulders.
Luca sat behind a metal folding table, the three black ledgers open before him.
I stood near the door, holding a clipboard with inventory records. Luca had specifically requested that I remain present. He said that a woman who had the courage to protect his child was the only person in this house whose eyes he trusted.
“Let’s talk about the driver of the dump truck, Marco,” Luca said, leaning back in his chair. “Thomas Vance. He vanished two days after Sarah’s crash. The police found his abandoned pickup truck near Gary, Indiana.”
Marco spat a mouthful of dark blood onto the concrete floor. “Vance is at the bottom of a limestone quarry in Joliet, Luca. You’re smart enough to know I don't leave loose ends.”
“You left Sarah’s ledger,” Luca retorted coldly.
“A mistake,” Marco growled. “One mistake in forty years of business.”
“And what about the poison in the harbor manifests?” Luca tapped the ledger page. “The federal task force has been monitoring Pier 14 for six months. You thought by marrying Vanessa to me, my legal transport network would absorb the liability when the indictments dropped.”
Marco looked up, a hollow, bitter laugh escaping his cracked lips. “Of course. Why else would I give my only daughter to a ruthless bastard like you? You were our shield, Luca. Your father built the most airtight logistics empire on the continent. All we needed was your signature on the merger agreement.”
Vanessa buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking violently. “Daddy... stop... stop talking...”
“Shut up, Vanessa!” Marco barked, his voice echoing off the damp concrete walls. “You couldn't even handle a ten-year-old child and a maid! You had one job: find that recipe box and get it into the incinerator before dinner! Instead, you let an illiterate servant humiliate us in front of the entire city!”
Luca stood up slowly.
The temperature in the cellar dropped instantly.
He walked over to Marco’s chair, stopped six inches from the older man’s face, and delivered a single, brutal backhand across Marco’s jaw.
The chair rocked on its legs. Marco’s head snapped sideways, his teeth clattering together.
“You will address Claire as Miss Dawson,” Luca said, his voice so quiet it sounded like steel sliding against leather. “And if you open your mouth to insult my daughter or my staff again, Matteo will remove your tongue with a pair of rusty garden shears.”
Marco swallowed his blood, staring at the floor, finally recognizing that his authority was entirely extinguished.
Luca turned to Vanessa.
“You have until sunrise to sign the transfer agreements,” Luca told her. “Every property, every warehouse lease, every commercial bank account held in the Bellini name will be signed over to the Sarah Moretti Educational Trust.”
Vanessa looked up with wide, desperate eyes. “And then? What happens to us?”
Luca looked at her with pure, unadulterated disgust.
“You take two suitcases. You take your father. And you get on a commercial flight to Sicily. If either of you ever steps foot on North American soil again, my men won't bother asking questions.”
He turned toward the iron stairs.
May you like
“Claire. Come upstairs. Lily is waking up soon.”
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