Chapter 4
The silence that fell over the executive holding room was absolute and suffocating. The soft hum of the air conditioning sounded like a roaring wind as Luca stood motionless against the mahogany desk.
"One of my men," Luca repeated, his deep baritone stripping away into a whisper of pure, lethal coldness.
"He was tall, with graying hair and a distinct scar across his left eyebrow," Hannah revealed, her tearful eyes fixed on Luca’s pale face. "He wore a black tailored suit just like your guards, and he was barking orders into a radio, telling someone that the job was done and the Moretti heir was dead."
Luca’s breathing stopped completely. His mind raced through his inner circle, instantly locking onto a single face—Captain Victor Sabato, his senior lieutenant who had managed security at Saint Anthony’s three years ago, the very man who had urged Luca to launch a bloody war against the Falcone syndicate under the guise of revenge.
"Captain Sabato," Luca growled, the name tasting like venom on his tongue.
"I knew that if the traitor saw me alive, he would kill me," Hannah explained, her voice shaking. "And if I tried to tell your remaining guards, I didn't know who else was involved. So I stayed hidden in the linen closet until the sirens arrived. Before the paramedics pulled Sophia out of the cart, I knelt beside her, touched her cheek, and whispered a promise into her ear: 'I'll come back for you, my little angel. I promise.'"
Sophia nodded happily, her radiant smile illuminating her rosy cheeks. "And you did! You brought me apple juice!"
Luca dropped to his knees in front of Hannah and Sophia, his massive, muscular frame lowering onto the Persian rug. The ruthless Mafia boss who ruled Chicago with an iron fist reached out his trembling, heavily tattooed hands, gently cupping his daughter's soft face.
"Sophia," Luca murmured, his voice cracking with an intense, overwhelming flood of emotion as tears glistened in his dark eyes. "How did you walk? How did you run to her?"
Sophia looked at her father with complete, innocent clarity. "My legs didn't hurt, Daddy. I just felt scared inside. But when I saw Hannah, the scary darkness went away. My legs wanted to go to her!"
Hannah wiped her tears with her lace apron, looking at Luca with deep professional insight. "Mr. Moretti, three years ago, when the gunman fired into that room, the violent shock and terror paralyzed her infant nervous system. It wasn't a severed spinal cord. It was severe psychological trauma—functional neurological paralysis. Her mind locked her legs away to protect her from the memory of that night. Seeing me broke the psychological lock."
Luca looked from Hannah to his daughter, who was now kicking her tiny legs happily against the sofa cushion. The medical diagnosis that had condemned his daughter to a wheelchair for three years was a lie—a lie reinforced by syndicate doctors who were paid by Sabato to keep Luca emotionally broken and distracted while Sabato consolidated power behind his back.
A dark, terrifying resolve ignited deep within Luca’s soul. The grief and helplessness that had plagued him for three years vanished, replaced by an absolute, apocalyptic fury.
He stood up smoothly, his fitted black suit stretching over his muscular broad shoulders. He looked down at Hannah, his piercing eyes burning with an unshakeable, fierce commitment.
"You saved my daughter's life twice, Hannah," Luca said, his deep voice carrying the weight of an unbreakable oath. "Once in that nursery, and once again tonight in that ballroom."
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"I didn't do it for a reward, Mr. Moretti," Hannah replied quietly.
"I know," Luca murmured softly. "Which is why from this second forward, you are under my absolute protection. Sabato will pay for what he did, but you and Sophia will never be hunted again."
