Chapter 4 - The Interrogation of William Mercer
At 3:00 AM, the estate was cloaked in heavy, suffocating silence.
Beneath the six-car detached garage, hidden behind a hydraulic tool cabinet, was
a steel blast door leading into the estate’s private interrogation bunker.
I followed Luca and Daniel down the cold concrete steps. The air smelled of damp
earth, motor oil, and copper.
Tied to a heavy metal chair in the center of the concrete room was William
Mercer.
The private investigator was no longer the arrogant, broad-shouldered man who
had shoved me into the brass doorframe that afternoon. His gray suit was torn,
his knuckles were bruised, and his face was slick with sweat.
Two of Luca’s enforcers, Vince and Marco, stood in the shadows behind him, their
arms crossed over tactical vests.
When the heavy steel door clicked shut, Mercer flinched violently, his
red-rimmed eyes darting to Luca.
“Moretti... please,” Mercer croaked, his voice raw. “I told your men everything!
I was just a contractor! I didn't know the girl was under your personal
protection!”
Luca didn't speak. He walked slowly around the perimeter of the room, his
footsteps echoing against the concrete walls with agonizing slowness.
He stopped directly behind Mercer’s chair.
Luca reached out, placed his hands on the back of Mercer’s neck, and leaned down
until his mouth was inches from the investigator’s ear.
“You laid your hands on a woman under my roof, William,” Luca said, his voice
softer than a whisper, yet terrifying enough to make the grown man tremble.
“She surprised us! She was going to scream!” Mercer wept, tears cutting through
the grime on his cheeks. “Miss Bellini told me to silence her! She said if the
maid talked, we were both dead!”
Luca walked around to face Mercer. He glanced down at the investigator’s hands,
which were secured to the chair with heavy zip-ties.
“Tell me about the photos, William.”
“Vanessa hired me three weeks ago,” Mercer confessed, words tumbling out in a
panicked rush. “She gave me Sophia’s schedule. She told me to tail you whenever
you left the downtown office. When you met Sophia at the restaurant last
Tuesday, I had three angles. Vanessa picked the shots that looked most
intimate.”
“And the story you were supposed to deliver?” Luca asked.
“I was supposed to go to Sophia’s brownstone at nine tomorrow morning,” Mercer
said. “I was supposed to tell her that I was an investigator hired by Vanessa to
confirm your infidelity. I was supposed to show her the photos and tell her that
you had been sleeping with Vanessa since 2018—two years before your divorce.”
Luca’s jaw clenched with such force that a muscle jumped in his cheek.
“Why did Vanessa want Sophia to believe that?”
“Because Sophia has the grandfather’s signet seal!” Mercer cried. “Not just a
key! The signet seal that validates the 1994 ledger! Vanessa said that if Sophia
believed you had been cheating on her for half a decade, her hatred would make
her burn the seal before you could use it to seize the Bellini docks!”
Luca looked at Daniel. “Did you secure Mercer’s phone?”
Daniel stepped forward, holding up an encrypted burner smartphone in an evidence
bag. “All calls, text messages, and wire transfers from Vanessa Bellini are
logged. The paper trail is ironclad.”
Luca turned back to Mercer.
“You will make a call at eight o’clock tomorrow morning, William,” Luca
instructed. “You will call Vanessa’s private line. You will tell her that you
successfully delivered the envelope to Sophia’s mailbox. You will tell her that
Sophia broke down in tears and promised to burn the Moretti artifacts before the
sun sets.”
Mercer nodded frantically. “I’ll do it! I swear to God, I’ll say whatever you
want!”
“And if you deviate from the script by a single syllable,” Luca added, leaning
in close, “you will find out what happens to men who touch the people under my
roof.”
Luca turned and walked toward the exit.
“Vince. Keep him hydrated. But keep him in the chair.”
“Yes, boss.”
We walked back up the concrete steps into the cool night air. The stars were
brilliant, cold, and distant above the Lake Forest trees.
Luca stopped at the edge of the driveway, looking down at me.
“Get three hours of sleep, Olivia,” he said, his voice returning to that quiet,
steady calm. “We leave for Lincoln Park at seven.”
I looked at him, the chill of the morning air raising goosebumps on my arms.
“Mr. Moretti... what happens if Sophia refuses to help?”
Luca stared out toward the lake, his profile sharp against the predawn light.
May you like
“Then the war doesn't start in the courtroom,” Luca replied quietly. “It starts
in the streets.”
