Chapter 7 - THE MAID THEY TRIED TO TURN INTO A MURDERER
I spent fourteen hours in a holding cell wondering whether Luca Moretti would believe I was innocent.
That frightened me more than I wanted to admit.
Not because I expected him to rescue me.
I had spent most of my life rescuing myself.
But because I knew what Vanessa had done.
She had taken every weakness in my life—my poverty, my job, my injured arm, my fear of losing everything—and turned it into a story that made me look like a criminal.
By Thursday morning, I was exhausted.
My wrist was swollen.
The scrape beneath my bandage had started bleeding again.
And I still wore the black uniform from the engagement dinner.
A woman sitting across from me asked what I'd done.
“Apparently, I tried to murder four people and steal a fortune.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Good. Because you don't look rich enough to have stolen a fortune.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
Then a guard opened the door.
“Bennett. Your attorney's here.”
I stood so quickly that my knees protested.
Ethan Shaw waited in a small interview room.
He carried a folder and two cups of coffee.
“You look terrible,” he said.
“Wonderful. That's exactly what every woman wants to hear.”
He pushed a cup toward me.
“Luca sent this.”
I stared at it.
“He's here?”
“He's been outside since three this morning.”
Something tightened in my chest.
“Why?”
Ethan gave me a look.
“Laura, the man has called me nineteen times.”
I swallowed.
“Is he angry?”
“Furious.”
My heart dropped.
Then Ethan added, “Not at you.”
He opened the folder.
“We have evidence that someone copied your employee credentials.”
I leaned forward.
“How?”
“Security records show your card was used at the estate while you were across town with your mother.”
“Can they prove that?”
“Yes. Detective Ellis obtained footage from the pharmacy where you picked up her prescription.”
I closed my eyes.
The pharmacy.
A place I'd almost forgotten visiting.
Suddenly, something so ordinary had become the most important proof of my life.
Ethan continued.
“The money found in your apartment came from an account connected to Harbor Crest Development.”
“Vanessa's company?”
“One of the companies linked to her family.”
“Then arrest her.”
“We're working toward that.”
I looked at him.
“Why is it taking so long?”
“Because proving that someone planted evidence is different from proving who gave the order.”
He paused.
“But Detective Ellis is already questioning the reliability of the case against you.”
I gripped the coffee cup.
“And Luca?”
“He gave investigators access to the estate's complete security records.”
I looked up.
“Complete?”
Ethan nodded.
“Including financial information and personal material he normally wouldn't allow anyone to examine.”
I knew how much that meant.
Luca kept his life behind locked doors.
Not only because he was wealthy.
Because parts of his business had never been entirely legal.
“He did that for me?”
Ethan's expression softened.
“He said he wasn't going to protect his secrets while an innocent woman sat in jail.”
I looked down.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Then Ethan said, “There's someone who wants to see you.”
The door opened.
My mother stepped inside.
Her forehead was bandaged.
She looked exhausted.
But she was smiling through tears.
“Baby.”
I stood.
She wrapped her arms around me.
I tried not to cry.
I failed.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
I pulled back.
“For what?”
“For keeping everything about Teresa secret.”
“Mom—”
“No. Listen to me.”
She held my face.
“I thought silence would protect you. But it only made it easier for those people to hurt us.”
My eyes filled.
“I know why you did it.”
“That doesn't make it right.”
I hugged her again.
“I don't want us hiding anymore.”
“Neither do I.”
An hour later, Detective Ellis informed me that I was being released while the investigation continued.
The evidence against me had been seriously undermined, and the prosecutor had agreed not to seek my continued detention.
I had never been so grateful to see an ordinary hallway.
Until I stepped outside.
Luca was standing beside his black car.
He had changed clothes, but dark shadows remained beneath his eyes.
When he saw me, he straightened.
I stopped a few feet away.
Neither of us spoke.
Then he said, “Are you all right?”
It was such a simple question.
I nearly started crying again.
“My arm hurts.”
His expression tightened.
“Dr. Harris is waiting.”
“I haven't eaten.”
“Mrs. Carter's assistant packed breakfast.”
I looked at him.
“And I'm very angry.”
For the first time, Luca smiled.
“That makes two of us.”
I took another step.
“Did you think I did it?”
His smile disappeared.
“No.”
“Not even for a second?”
“Not for a second.”
I searched his face.
“Why?”
He looked at me steadily.
“Because you could barely afford to replace your worn sneakers, but you still returned a fifty-dollar bill you found beneath a chair.”
I blinked.
“You knew about that?”
“Mrs. Carter told me.”
“That was months ago.”
“I remember things.”
I laughed through my tears.
Then Luca opened his arms.
He didn't reach for me.
Didn't demand anything.
He simply waited.
I stepped forward.
And for one brief moment, I allowed myself to be held.
His hand rested carefully between my shoulders.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered.
I looked up.
“For what?”
“For letting danger reach you inside my own home.”
I shook my head.
“You didn't do this.”
“But I brought Vanessa into our lives.”
I pulled away slightly.
“Then help me stop her.”
His expression changed.
“That's exactly what I intend to do.”
Back at the estate, Christopher Vale and Peter Doran were waiting with new information.
Doran had recovered enough to leave the hospital.
He looked pale but determined.
“We found the original bank records,” Christopher said.
Luca sat beside me.
“Show me.”
The documents confirmed that millions had moved through shell companies controlled by Dennis Halpern and Victor Bellini.
But one account was different.
It had received money shortly after Teresa Moretti's death.
Then, over eight years, it had paid a series of smaller amounts to people involved with medical records, corporate filings, and property transactions.
“Who owns it?” Luca asked.
Doran looked at him.
“Vanessa.”
The room went silent.
Christopher nodded.
“She wasn't just helping her father. She was directing payments herself.”
I looked at the dates.
The earliest payment occurred three weeks before Teresa died.
The money had gone to a medical consulting company.
Its registered owner was Dr. Cyril Mercer.
I felt sick.
“She's been paying him for eight years?”
Christopher nodded.
“Apparently.”
“And she's planning to use him again?”
“That may be why he's resurfaced in Chicago.”
Luca looked toward Ethan.
“Find him.”
Ethan nodded.
“I've already requested assistance from Detective Ellis.”
Then Daniel entered.
He no longer carried a gun.
His badge had been surrendered.
He looked older than he had two days earlier.
“I may have something,” he said.
Luca studied him.
“What?”
“The photograph Vanessa sent of Mrs. Carter.”
He placed an enlarged image on the desk.
The room behind Mrs. Carter was dark.
Most of the background had been deliberately hidden.
But Daniel pointed to a small section of blue tile near the floor.
Then to a narrow brass plate on the wall.
I leaned closer.
The plate contained three faded letters.
MHC.
I frowned.
“That looks familiar.”
Luca glanced at me.
“From where?”
I thought for a moment.
Then remembered.
“Mrs. Carter made me deliver blankets to a charity storage building last winter. It used to be a neighborhood clinic.”
Christopher looked up sharply.
“Mercy Health Center?”
“Yes!”
He immediately opened his computer.
The building had closed six years earlier.
Its ownership had passed through several companies.
The current owner was Harbor Crest Development.
Luca stood.
“That's where she is.”
Detective Ellis was contacted.
She organized a search team.
Luca wanted to go.
Ellis refused.
He argued.
She refused again.
Finally, Luca agreed to remain nearby while the officers entered.
I stayed with him inside a police command vehicle two blocks away.
The wait was unbearable.
Ten minutes passed.
Then fifteen.
A radio crackled.
“First floor clear.”
Another pause.
“Second floor clear.”
I gripped my hands together.
Then a voice came through.
“We have signs of recent occupancy.”
Luca leaned forward.
“Where?”
The officer continued.
“Basement storage. One chair. Restraints. A woman's medication.”
I felt my stomach turn.
“Is she there?” I whispered.
Nobody answered.
A second officer spoke.
“Negative. No victim located.”
Luca slammed his hand against the dashboard.
“Damn it!”
Then the radio crackled again.
“Detective, we found writing on the wall.”
Ellis responded.
“Read it.”
The officer hesitated.
“It appears to have been scratched into the paint.”
“What does it say?”
A pause.
Then—
SATURDAY IS A LIE.
I stared at Luca.
He looked at me.
The officer continued.
“There's a second message.”
Ellis leaned toward the radio.
“Go ahead.”
FRIDAY. TERESA HOUSE. SIX O'CLOCK.
Luca went completely still.
“Teresa House,” I whispered.
I knew that name.
It was his mother's largest affordable housing development.
A building filled with elderly residents, working families, and people who had nowhere else to go.
Luca grabbed the radio.
“Detective, get everyone out of Teresa House.”
Ellis demanded an explanation.
Luca's face had turned white.
“Vanessa arranged a donor reception there tomorrow evening. My mother's name is on the invitation.”
He looked at me.
“She wants me there.”
I felt the terrible meaning settle over us.
The wedding wasn't the real deadline.
It was a distraction.
May you like
Whatever Vanessa had planned for Luca would happen before he ever reached the altar.
And Friday was less than twenty-four hours away.
