Chapter 6 - The Confession and the TrapLuca didn't flinch. He pulled a heavy encrypted tablet from his coat pocket and set it down on the floured counter between us. He tapped the screen twice, pressing his thumb against the biometric scanner.
A video file began to play.
It was security footage from the private study adjacent to our Lake Forest bedroom—footage I had never known existed. On the screen, a younger Luca stood by the wet bar during the gala, accepting a glass of champagne from a waiter who wasn't part of our regular staff. Within minutes, Luca’s movements grew sluggish; he grabbed the edge of the marble counter, his eyes glazing over as he stumbled toward the hallway.
Then the camera showed Vanessa slipping into the hallway behind him, guiding his unresisting body toward our master suite like a spider wrapping its prey.
And finally, it showed the aftermath: forty-five minutes later, Luca bolted upright in bed, vomiting into the wastebasket, shoving Vanessa violently off the bed with a curse of pure horror before stumbling out of the room looking for me—only to find an empty house.
I stared at the screen, the room spinning around me.
All those years... all those nights spent crying into my pillow, hating him, hating her, hating the world... built on a chemical trap laid by a political enemy trying to bring down the most powerful man in Chicago.
"Vance is dead," Luca said quietly, reading the shock on my face. "Three months after you disappeared, his cargo ships started sinking, his political donors vanished, and he suffered a very fatal 'accident' on his private yacht. Nobody touches what is mine."
"I wasn't a possession, Luca," I whispered, tears finally spilling over my lashes.
"No," he agreed, stepping right up to me, his hands finally reaching out to cup my face with infinite, trembling tenderness, his thumbs gently brushing against the red mark on my cheek. "You were my heart. And I let someone tear it out because I wasn't careful enough."
Before I could answer, the front bell jangled sharply again.
I stiffened, pulling back from Luca’s touch.
Through the front glass window, I saw three black sedans pull up hard against the curb. But these weren't Luca’s men.
Mateo burst through the front door, his hand already resting under his jacket where a concealed Glock was holstered.
"Boss," Mateo barked, his face pale with adrenaline. "We've got a perimeter breach. Vance’s old loyalists—they tracked Vanessa’s burner phone here. They aren't trying to talk. They've got automatic weapons, and they're coming through the alley."
Luca’s demeanor shifted in a fraction of a second. The grieving husband vanished, replaced instantly by the ruthless, calculating syndicatelord who commanded an empire of blood and steel.
"Get Sarah and the kids into the walk-in cellar beneath the bakery," Luca commanded, his voice ringing with absolute authority. "Now."
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"Luca, no," I grabbed his arm. "What about you?"
"I'm going to finish a war that started three years ago," he said, pressing a searing, desperate kiss to my forehead. Then he looked deep into my eyes. "Take care of our children, Sarah. Because I am coming back to you."
