Chapter 5 - The Secret Beneath the Hotel
The Blackstone Hotel stood like a forgotten monument in the heart of Chicago.
Its doors had been locked for three years.
Dust covered the marble floors.
The chandeliers were dark.
The grand staircase was wrapped in velvet rope.
Luca unlocked the main entrance.
Clara followed with Isabella between them.
The little girl clutched her rabbit.
“Where are we going?” Clara whispered.
“Basement,” Luca said.
They descended beneath the hotel.
At the bottom was an old corridor.
The silver key opened a small steel door.
Inside was a room filled with files.
Thousands of them.
Clara stared.
“What is this?”
Luca walked toward the nearest cabinet.
“Financial records.”
He pulled open a drawer.
The names of politicians, judges, businessmen, police officers, and contractors filled the folders.
“This isn't my operation.”
Clara looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
“My brother built this.”
Luca's eyes hardened.
“Marco wasn't just working for me.”
“He was using your empire.”
“Yes.”
He opened another folder.
Inside were photographs of Elena.
Clara looked at them.
“Why was your wife investigating him?”
Luca found a document.
His face went pale.
“She discovered Marco had been laundering money through charities.”
Clara read the page.
“But why would he kill her?”
“He didn't.”
Clara looked at him.
“What?”
Luca pointed to a signature.
“Victor.”
The room went silent.
Victor Hale had authorized several transfers.
But the dates were impossible.
Some were signed after Elena's death.
Others were signed after Marco supposedly died.
Clara whispered,
“Someone was using Victor's identity.”
Luca shook his head.
“No.”
He showed her the original signature.
“It was his.”
Suddenly, the lights went out.
Isabella screamed.
Clara grabbed her.
Luca pulled his gun.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor.
One.
Two.
Three.
Then a man's voice.
“Luca.”
Luca raised his weapon.
“Marco?”
The lights came back.
A man stood at the end of the corridor.
Older.
Thinner.
Scarred.
But unmistakably alive.
Marco Moretti.
Luca stared at him.
For eight years, he had believed his brother was dead.
Now Marco slowly raised both hands.
“I didn't kill Elena.”
Luca aimed the gun at his chest.
“You're going to explain everything.”
Marco nodded.
“I came here because she asked me to.”
“Why did you disappear?”
“Because Victor tried to kill me.”
Luca's jaw tightened.
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because Elena left something else.”
Marco looked at Isabella.
The little girl stepped backward.
“Uncle Marco.”
Marco's eyes filled with tears.
“You remember me.”
Isabella nodded.
“You came to Mommy's room.”
“Yes.”
“You made her cry.”
Marco closed his eyes.
“I was trying to warn her.”
“About what?”
“Victor.”
Luca lowered his weapon slightly.
Marco continued.
“Victor had been building his own network inside your organization for years. Elena discovered it. She planned to expose him.”
“Then why was she killed?”
“Because Victor found out.”
Luca's face became expressionless.
“Where were you that night?”
“I arrived too late.”
Marco swallowed.
“I saw Victor leaving the house.”
Luca stared at him.
“And you ran.”
“I knew he would kill me next.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because Victor had your men watching me.”
Luca's hand tightened around the gun.
Marco reached into his coat.
He slowly removed a photograph.
It showed Victor speaking with a woman.
Luca recognized her immediately.
His mother.
Clara looked at him.
“Your mother?”
Luca stared at the picture.
His mother had died two years earlier.
Marco whispered,
“She was helping Victor.”
Luca's face became unreadable.
Then Isabella pointed at the photograph.
“That's not the bad man.”
Everyone turned.
“What?” Luca asked.
She pointed at the woman.
“She was scared of him.”
Clara knelt.
“Who is the bad man?”
Isabella looked toward the ceiling.
Then whispered,
“He lives upstairs.”
Luca frowned.
The hotel had been empty.
Except—
A gunshot exploded.
Marco fell.
Blood spread across his shoulder.
Clara screamed.
Luca fired toward the balcony.
A figure ran.
“Stay with Marco!”
Luca chased him.
The figure disappeared through a service door.
Luca reached it seconds later.
Empty.
Except for a phone lying on the floor.
It began ringing.
Luca answered.
A distorted voice spoke.
“You're looking in the wrong direction.”
Luca's eyes narrowed.
“Who are you?”
The voice laughed.
Then came the words:
“Ask your daughter what she saw the night her mother died.”
The call ended.
Luca returned to the basement.
Marco was alive.
But Isabella was gone.
Clara stood frozen.
The front doors were open.
A white ribbon lay on the floor.
Luca picked it up.
May you like
His face turned cold.
“Lock down Chicago.”
