Chapter 8 - THE RETURN TO THE MANSIONWithin forty-five minutes, the black armored SUV pulled back through the security gates of the Blackwell-Davis estate.
The grand limestone mansion loomed against the stormy night sky, its brilliant exterior lights casting long, harsh shadows across the courtyard. But the festive atmosphere of the engagement party was entirely gone.
The forty wealthy guests had long since departed, escorted off the property by armed guards. Only the heavy silence of an impending reckoning remained.
As Luca and I stepped out of the vehicle, Marcus was waiting by the front entrance, flanked by four of his elite enforcers.
“The guests are all gone, Boss,” Marcus reported crisply, holding a secure encrypted phone in his hand. “The security perimeter is locked down. Nobody in or out.”
“Where is Vanessa?” Luca demanded as we walked up the grand marble steps.
“She’s in the master study, Boss. She tried to order a car to the private airfield ten minutes ago, but we intercepted the transport.”
Luca nodded grimly. He turned to me, his expression softening just a fraction. “Rachel, wait in the foyer with Marcus. Let me handle this first.”
“No, Mr. Moretti,” I said, my voice steadying with a sudden, unyielding surge of adrenaline. I had spent three years weeping over an empty crib. I had spent eleven months cleaning the floors of the woman who stole my flesh and blood. “That is my daughter in those files. I am coming with you.”
May you like
Luca looked into my eyes, saw the fierce maternal fire burning beneath my tears, and gave a slow, respectful nod.
“Together, then,” he said.
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