Chapter 2 - The Mafia Boss Who Knew Her Secret
Luca DeLuca did not sleep well.
Catherine learned that the next morning.
She had expected a hotel.
Instead, his driver had taken her to a private townhouse on the Upper East Side, protected by cameras, locked gates, and men who never seemed surprised by anything.
Luca gave her a guest room.
Then he disappeared.
No demands.
No questions.
No attempt to touch her.
That should have frightened her.
Instead, it made her suspicious.
At 7:00 a.m., a woman named Elena brought breakfast upstairs.
“Mr. DeLuca says you should eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Elena smiled.
“He also said you would say that.”
Catherine looked up.
“What else did he say?”
“That you have a terrible habit of putting everyone else first.”
Catherine stared.
“Does he interview all his guests?”
“No.”
“Then why me?”
Elena shrugged.
“Maybe he remembered something.”
By 8:00, Catherine went downstairs.
Luca stood beside a wall of windows overlooking Manhattan.
He wore a charcoal shirt.
No tie.
No jacket.
There was a phone in his hand.
He ended a call when he saw her.
“Did you sleep?”
“A little.”
“Eat?”
“Some.”
“Good.”
Catherine crossed her arms.
“I need answers.”
“I know.”
“You knew Jason.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“His father once did business with my family.”
She felt a chill.
“What kind of business?”
“The kind people don't brag about.”
She studied him.
“Are you a criminal?”
Luca smiled faintly.
“That's a complicated question.”
“I prefer complicated answers to lies.”
“Then no. I’m not going to lie to you.”
He gestured toward a chair.
She remained standing.
“Your husband has financial problems.”
“I know.”
“Worse than you think.”
“I know that too.”
“He has been moving money through several shell companies.”
“Which I can prove.”
Luca looked at her.
“You have documents.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Catherine frowned.
“Why is that good?”
“Because it means you’re not as helpless as they think.”
She sat.
Luca placed a folder on the table.
Inside were copies of Jason’s transfers.
Catherine stared.
“I didn't give you these.”
“No.”
“Then how?”
“I have people who follow money.”
She looked up.
“That sounds illegal.”
“It is sometimes.”
She almost smiled despite herself.
At that exact moment, Luca's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“Say that again.”
He listened.
Then:
“When?”
Another pause.
“Don't touch anything. I'm coming.”
He ended the call.
Catherine stood.
“What happened?”
“Someone broke into your apartment.”
Her blood went cold.
“My apartment?”
“Yes.”
“Was anything stolen?”
“No.”
“That’s worse.”
“I agree.”
He grabbed his jacket.
“You don't have to come.”
“I’m going.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“My grandmother’s things are there.”
“Then we go.”
At the apartment, the front door was unlocked.
Nothing appeared missing.
The drawers were open.
The mattress was cut.
The wall behind the bookshelf had been damaged.
Catherine walked into the bedroom.
Her grandmother’s jewelry box was untouched.
Her passport was untouched.
Her laptop was untouched.
But a framed photograph was gone.
She froze.
It was a picture of Catherine at 19, standing beside a woman in a military uniform.
Luca noticed.
“Who is that?”
“My mother.”
He stared at the empty frame.
“You never mentioned your mother.”
“She died before I was married.”
“When?”
“Twenty-four years ago.”
Luca slowly turned toward her.
“How?”
“Officially? Car accident.”
“Unofficially?”
Catherine looked away.
“My grandmother always said it wasn't an accident.”
Luca went still.
He knew that kind of silence.
It was the silence of a man whose instincts had just collided with a memory.
He walked to the wall.
“Your mother’s name?”
“Claire Bennett.”
Luca's face changed.
Catherine saw it immediately.
“You know her.”
He didn't answer.
“Luca.”
He looked at her.
“My father knew someone named Claire Bennett.”
Catherine’s heart jumped.
“Who?”
“A woman who worked security for one of his old operations.”
“What kind of security?”
“Protection.”
“Was she military?”
“Yes.”
Catherine stared.
Her mother had spent years insisting she was simply a consultant.
Now a mafia family had known her by another name.
Luca moved toward the damaged bookshelf.
He touched the wall.
Then he found a loose panel.
Behind it was a small metal box.
Inside was a photograph.
A younger Luca stood beside a group of people.
Catherine looked at the picture.
Her breath stopped.
A younger Claire stood behind him.
She was holding a little boy by the shoulder.
Luca.
But there was something else.
A handwritten note on the back.
Protect my daughter if anything happens to me.
Catherine looked up.
“What is this?”
Luca took the photograph from her hands.
His face hardened.
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“No.”
He turned the photo over.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
Catherine knew it.
She had seen it in hundreds of birthday cards.
Her mother's writing.
“She left this for your family.”
Luca stared.
“Apparently.”
“Why?”
He looked at her.
“I think your mother knew she was in danger.”
Catherine felt suddenly unsteady.
All those years.
All those stories.
All the family secrets.
Jason’s theft had seemed enormous yesterday.
Today it felt almost small.
Luca stepped closer.
“You need to understand something.”
“What?”
“Your husband is not only trying to take your money.”
“What is he trying to take?”
“Your identity.”
Her blood went cold.
He showed her another document.
A power of attorney.
Catherine’s signature.
Except she had never signed it.
The document gave Jason authority over her company.
He had already filed it.
“He forged this.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To liquidate your assets.”
“And then?”
“Your business would disappear.”
Catherine stared at him.
“How much?”
“Nearly seven million dollars.”
She closed her eyes.
“That bastard.”
Luca’s expression softened.
“He thought you'd sign the divorce papers before you found out.”
“Why are you helping me?”
He remained silent.
She pressed.
“Why me?”
Luca looked at the photo of her mother.
“Because once, a woman saved my life.”
“Claire?”
He nodded.
“And I never forgot her.”
Catherine’s throat tightened.
“What did she save you from?”
“Death.”
He looked directly into her eyes.
“And she made me promise something.”
“What?”
“To protect her family if the day ever came.”
Catherine stared.
“Did she know you’d become…”
“Who I am?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
A bitter smile crossed his face.
“She knew I was capable of becoming it.”
He paused.
“She said I had a choice.”
Catherine studied him.
“And what did you choose?”
Luca’s eyes did not leave hers.
“Too much power.”
Outside, a car slowed near the building.
Luca immediately turned.
His bodyguards moved.
Catherine noticed something unusual.
Luca did not step in front of her.
He stepped beside her.
As if he expected her to protect herself too.
She understood why only later.
The scar on her knuckle.
The stance.
The way he had looked at her when they first met.
There was something he had not told her.
Something she had almost forgotten herself.
A decade earlier, before she became a designer, before she married Jason, Catherine had taken self-defense training after her mother’s death.
She had trained under a retired instructor named Marcus Vale.
On the last day of that training, he told her:
“You have the hands of someone who could have survived war.”
Catherine thought it was a joke.
Luca clearly did not.
He picked up her hand.
Not romantically.
Carefully.
He traced the scar without touching the skin.
“I know where I saw that scar.”
“Where?”
“On an old security report.”
Catherine stared.
The world tilted.
“What report?”
Luca's voice dropped.
“Your mother wasn't the only person protecting me that night.”
May you like
He looked at her with the expression of a man finally solving a mystery that had haunted him for years.
“You were there too.”
