Chapter 1 - THE BIRTHDAY BLOODSHED
The chandelier light caught the silver blade, transforming it into a streak of fire as I lunged across the polished marble floor of the Moretti grand ballroom.
Every single step was pure agony. Blood—thick, hot, and crimson—was pouring down my right leg, soaking the stiff cotton of my black housekeeping apron and pooling into my leather shoe. The slash across my thigh felt as though someone had pressed a white-hot iron directly against my flesh. My vision swam with spots of darkness, but I refused to fall. Not yet. Not before I reached the center of the room.
Around me, thirty-six of Chicago’s most powerful elite gasped in horror. Crystal champagne flutes shattered against the floor as high-society women drew back their silk gowns to avoid the frantic, bleeding maid tearing through their midst. Men in tailored tuxedos reached for their concealed holsters, their eyes darting around the room in search of an unseen assassin.
They thought I had lost my mind. They thought a lower-class servant girl had succumbed to sudden, violent psychosis in the middle of the most high-profile party of the year.
Directly ahead stood the colossal, magnificent structure—an six-foot tall, gold-leaf framed portrait of little Lily Moretti.
In the photograph, taken only two weeks prior, the six-year-old girl was a vision of innocence. She wore a handcrafted pastel-pink party dress, her soft dark curls falling over her shoulders, her tiny hands tightly clutching a worn, white stuffed bunny rabbit named Barnaby. It was her father’s ultimate pride. Luca Moretti had commissioned the renowned Italian portrait artist to capture his daughter’s likeness to commemorate her sixth birthday. It was supposed to be the crown jewel of the evening, displayed prominently beside the five-tiered birthday cake.
And I was about to hack it to pieces.
“PUT THAT KNIFE DOWN, YOU CRAZY MAID! THAT'S MY DAUGHTER'S BIRTHDAY PORTRAIT!”
The thundering voice of Luca Moretti echoed across the vaulted ceilings, striking the walls like a physical blow. He moved with the predatory grace of a man who had spent his entire life commanding armies in the dark underbelly of the city. Thirty-six years old, broad-shouldered, dark-haired, and possessed of a face so sharply handsome it often disguised the ruthlessness underneath, Luca was the undisputed head of the Moretti Crime Syndicate. When he spoke, men died. When he shouted, empires fell.
Beside him stood his fiancée, Vanessa Bellini. She looked breathtaking in an emerald velvet dress that accented her slender frame, her pale face framed by sleek blonde hair. But as my eyes met hers, I didn’t see high-class beauty. I saw the eyes of a venomous snake. She was staring at me not just with disgust, but with absolute, cold-blooded panic.
“Hannah, stop!” Luca roared, striding forward, his polished shoes clicking sharply against the floor. “Are you out of your mind?!”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t waste the remaining oxygen in my lungs on words.
I reached the massive easel. I gripped the heavy wooden handle of the chef's knife with both hands, raised it above my head, and brought it down with every ounce of strength left in my battered body.
CRAAAAASH!
The reinforced safety glass shattered with an deafening boom. Spiderweb fractures erupted across Lily’s smiling face. A collective shriek went up from the wealthy guests.
“Security! Shoot her!” Vanessa screamed, her voice cracking into a high-pitched hysterical screech. “Daniel, shoot her before she destroys the estate!”
Daniel, Luca’s lethal chief of security, drew his custom suppressed sidearm, but he hesitated, his eyes flicking to Luca for the final order. Luca raised a single hand, stopping his men in their tracks, his dark eyes locked on the crimson trail I was leaving on the floor.
I didn't stop. I swung again.
CRACK!
The glass rained down around me like frozen shards of ice. I drove the tip of the eight-inch blade directly through the thick canvas. Once. Twice. Three times. I twisted the steel, ripping through the hand-painted fabric, tearing the image of the pink dress in half, carving deep grooves into the thick wooden mounting board behind it.
Sharp glass sliced into my bare knuckles. Fresh, bright red blood mixed with the dark, clotting blood already staining my uniform. My breath came in ragged, wheezing gasps. Sweat burned my eyes. But I kept digging, prying, tearing at the backing of the frame.
Because I knew what was hidden in the hollowed-out space behind the velvet back-board. I knew what Vanessa and Michael Moretti had slipped inside less than twenty minutes before the first guest arrived.
“HANNAH! THAT’S MY LITTLE GIRL’S PICTURE!” Luca thundered, his hand wrapping around the back of my neck. His grip was like steel, pulling me away from the frame with terrifying ease.
The knife slipped from my blood-slicked fingers and clattered to the floor. My weak leg finally gave out completely. I collapsed onto my knees directly amidst the mountain of broken glass and shredded canvas, my hands hovering over my thigh where the wound pulsed with agony.
“Mr. Moretti…” I sobbed, my voice barely a whisper, choking on the copper taste of fear and exhaustion. “Please… look… look behind it…”
“Look behind what? You’ve destroyed her birthday present!” Luca growled, towering over me. His face was a mask of dark fury, but as he lowered his eyes to the deep, jagged slash exposed through my ripped dress, his brows furrowed. The sheer volume of blood pooling around me was impossible to ignore. “What happened to your leg?”
“She cut herself because she’s unhinged!” Vanessa rushed forward, her heels clicking rapidly, her hands clutching Luca’s arm tightly. “Luca, darling, don't listen to her! She’s clearly had a psychological breakdown! Look at what she’s done to poor Lily’s party! Call the authorities immediately and have her dragged out of here!”
I shook my head weakly, tears cutting tracks through the dust and blood on my cheeks. “The frame… Mr. Moretti… the hollow backing… check the velvet…”
Luca looked from my desperate, pleading eyes to Vanessa’s panicked face. A flicker of suspicion crossed his icy gray eyes. He slowly turned toward his security chief.
“Daniel,” Luca said, his voice dropping into a dangerously calm register. “Inspect the portrait frame.”
Vanessa paled instantly. “Luca! This is ridiculous! Are you really going to humiliate us in front of the Syndicate board because of a psychotic maid?”
Daniel stepped past the crowd, his gloved hands carefully reaching into the tear I had carved into the canvas. He reached deep into the wooden backing, his fingers searching the hidden compartment. A second later, he pulled his hand out.
In his grip was a thick, moisture-resistant yellow Manila envelope, sealed with red wax.
The room fell into a suffocating, dead silence.
Luca’s eyes narrowed until they were thin slits of dark obsidian. “What is that?”
“Boss…” Daniel stammered, examining the heavy official seal stamped on the front of the envelope. “It’s legal paperwork. From an overseas jurisdiction.”
Luca ripped the envelope out of Daniel’s hands, tearing open the wax seal with one quick movement. He pulled out a stack of heavy parchment documents stamped with international seals.
As his eyes scanned the first page, the temperature in the grand ballroom seemed to drop to sub-zero levels. The muscular tension in his jaw tightened so hard I heard his teeth grind together.
“A TRANSFER AND GUARDIANSHIP AUTHORIZATION FOR LILY?” Luca read aloud, his voice vibrating with a terrifying, suppressed rage.
The thirty-six high-society guests froze. Whispers broke out like a sudden rustle of dry leaves.
Vanessa took two slow steps backward, her eyes darting toward the grand exit of the ballroom.
Luca flipped to the second page, his eyes sweeping over the fine print. The document authorized the immediate, unconditional relocation of Lily Moretti to Saint Jude’s Academy for Special Needs—a heavily fortified, remote private boarding facility situated in the mountains of Switzerland. It stripped Luca of his primary custody rights during his international travel periods, delegating full executive power over the child’s physical location to his fiancée, Vanessa Bellini.
And at the very bottom of the final page, written in bold, dark black ink, was a signature that looked identical to his own: Luca Giovanni Moretti.
Luca stared at the signature for a long, agonizing five seconds. When he finally looked up, his eyes were no longer just angry. They were filled with the cold, murderous intent that had made him the most feared man in North America.
“I NEVER SIGNED THIS.”
Vanessa’s throat hitched. “Luca… Luca, listen to me, I can explain! It’s not what it looks like! I was only doing what was best for the family!”
Before she could finish her sentence, tiny footsteps pattered across the hardwood floor.
Six-year-old Lily emerged from behind the massive floral arrangement near the entrance. She looked tiny, fragile, and utterly terrified. Her pink dress swayed slightly as she walked toward her father, her small arms wrapping tightly around Barnaby, her stuffed rabbit.
“Daddy?” the little girl squeaked, her voice trembling.
Luca dropped the documents to his side instantly. The terrifying aura around him evaporated, replaced by the instinct of a fiercely protective father. He dropped to one knee, ignoring the glass on the floor, and reached for her. “Yes, my sweet heart? Come here.”
Lily didn’t look at her father. She turned her tear-filled eyes toward Vanessa, her small finger pointing directly at the woman in the green dress.
“SHE SAID THIS IS MY LAST BIRTHDAY AT HOME.”
The silence in the room was absolute. Nobody breathed.
“What did you say, Lily?” Luca asked, his voice shaking.
“Miss Vanessa told me yesterday,” Lily sobbed, tears rolling down her chubby cheeks. “She said that after today, I have to go somewhere far away where I won't bother you anymore. She said… she said you were tired of me.”
Luca pulled his daughter tightly into his chest, hiding her face against his neck so she wouldn't see the monstrous rage transforming his features. He stood up slowly, holding the little girl with one arm, his gaze locking onto Vanessa like a sniper targeting his mark.
“YOU PLANNED TO SEND MY SIX-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER AWAY USING MY FORGED SIGNATURE?”
Vanessa couldn't form words. Her mouth worked uselessly as she backed into the chest of Michael Moretti, Luca’s younger brother, who was standing quietly near the back of the room.
Daniel, who had been reviewing the additional flight manifests attached to the back of the file, suddenly looked up, his face drained of all color.
“Boss…” Daniel whispered, his hand going straight to his firearm.
Luca didn't break his stare with Vanessa. “What else, Daniel?”
“THE CHILDREN’S TRANSPORT VEHICLE IS ALREADY WAITING OUTSIDE THE ESTATE GATES. THE ENGINE IS RUNNING.”
Luca slowly raised his eyes toward his fiancée, then shifted his gaze to his younger brother, Michael, who was sweating profusely under his immaculate collar.
May you like
Luca’s voice became frighteningly, deadly quiet.
“WERE YOU PLANNING TO TAKE MY DAUGHTER AWAY WHILE I WAS CELEBRATING HER BIRTHDAY?”
