Chapter 1 - The Shattered Glass
The silence in the grand ballroom of the Moretti estate was so thick that the only sound was the crystal chandelier trembling above, vibrating to the sudden chill that had gripped the room.
Fifty guests—wealthy shipping magnates, corrupt aldermen, high-society socialites, and hardened capos of the Chicago outfit—froze with their champagne flutes suspended in midair.
Luca Moretti did not raise his voice. He didn’t need to. When a man like Luca lowered his tone, men who killed for a living checked where the exits were.
“Say that again, Arthur,” Luca whispered. His dark eyes, usually as unreadable as black obsidian, fixed entirely on Vanessa’s father, Arthur Bellini.
Arthur’s hands shook so violently that red wine sloshed over the rim of his Baccarat glass, staining the pristine linen tablecloth like fresh arterial blood. He looked at his daughter. Vanessa’s face had drained of every ounce of color, her bright red lipstick now looking like a grotesque slash across chalk-white skin.
“Arthur,” Luca repeated, taking half a step forward. “You just told this room that you will not take the blame for what Vanessa arranged to happen to my daughter. Explain to me what happened seven months ago on Lake Shore Drive.”
“Luca, darling, he’s drunk!” Vanessa shrieked, her voice cracking into a shrill, hysterical pitch. She lunged forward, trying to grab Luca’s tailored sleeve with manicured, trembling fingers. “You know my father has been drinking since four this afternoon! He doesn't know what he’s saying—he’s rambling!”
Luca didn’t even look at her. He simply raised his left arm, shaking her off with a motion so cold and dismissive that she stumbled back into a display of white calla lilies, knocking them to the marble floor in a crash of porcelain and water.
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“Emily,” Luca said, his voice dropping into a soft, protective baritone that contrasted terrifyingly with his eyes.
I swallowed hard, keeping both my hands