Chapter 2 - Ghosts of St. Catherine’s
The aftermath of the award ceremony was chaos.
I dragged Emily through the backstage exit, ignoring the calls of reporters and the sound of Vincent’s heavy footsteps chasing after us down the corridor. My lawyer friend, Madison Parker, was waiting by the black SUV parked in the alleyway, the engine already idling.
"Get in! Fast!" Madison called out, sliding the door open.
I lifted Emily into the back seat and scrambled in after her. Before Madison could hit the lock button, a heavy hand slammed against the glass of the door.
Vincent’s face appeared at the window, desperate and frantic. "Claire! Open the door! We need to talk! If what you said is true—if she’s mine—"
"Drive, Madison!" I yelled.
Madison floored the accelerator. The tires squealed against the damp Chicago pavement, leaving Vincent standing alone in the alleyway, his hands clenched into fists, his expensive suit soaked by the light drizzle beginning to fall.
In the backseat, Emily looked out the rear window. "Mommy... was that man my daddy?"
My heart ached. I pulled her close, wrapping my arms around her small shoulders, breathing in the scent of her vanilla shampoo. "He’s no one, baby. Just a ghost from a long time ago."
We reached the private hotel suite Madison had secured under a shell company name. Once Emily was settled in the bedroom with her tablet and a glass of warm milk, Madison turned to me in the living room, pouring two fingers of bourbon into a glass.
"You dropped a nuclear bomb back there, Claire," Madison said, handing me the glass. "The press is already losing their minds. 'The Secret Moretti Heiress' is trending nationwide."
"Did you hear what he said, Madison?" I whispered, my hand trembling as I took a sip of the amber liquid. "He claimed they told him Emily died."
Madison’s eyes darkened. "Do you believe him?"
"I don't know what to believe," I confessed, pacing the floor. "Seven years ago, I gave birth in that cold, overcrowded room. My mother came in while I was recovering. She told me Vincent had signed over full custody rights, that he didn't care about a daughter, that he only wanted Sophia’s son. She handed me a settlement check and told me to disappear."
"And you had your own trust fund from your grandfather, so you didn't take a dime of his money," Madison noted.
"I took my baby and left," I said, tears finally spilling over my lashes. "If Vincent genuinely believed Emily was dead... that means my mother and Sophia fabricated a stillbirth to keep him attached to Sophia. They used a fake death to isolate him!"
Suddenly, the hotel room phone rang. Simultaneously, Madison’s cell phone began buzzing incessantly.
Madison picked up her mobile, checking the screen. "It's my office line. Claire... Vincent’s legal team just filed an emergency injunction. He’s requested a mandatory DNA paternity test and a court order preventing you from leaving the state of Illinois with Emily."
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I slammed my glass onto the table. "He thinks he can use his mafia clout to trap me here?"
"He doesn't just want to trap you, Claire," Madison said gravely, looking out the window toward the Chicago skyline. "Vincent Moretti is the head of the most ruthless organization in this city. If he finds out his wife and mother-in-law lied to him about his child being dead for seven years... blood is going to spill tonight."
