Chapter 7 - THE WOMAN WHO WASN’T PREGNANT
Brittany Hale was found alive at 9:17 that night.
She was hiding inside a twenty-four-hour laundromat six miles from where her car had been abandoned.
The blood in the driver’s seat was not hers.
That detail somehow made everything worse.
“Whose blood?” I asked.
Detective Alvarez had returned to the hospital, exhausted and angry.
“Lab has not confirmed yet.”
“Did Brittany tell you?”
“She says no.”
“Do you believe her?”
“No.”
At least everyone had stopped pretending.
My daughter slept in the bassinet beside me.
I had officially named her Isabella Grace Lawson.
Not Moretti.
Not Morrison.
Lawson.
Mine.
When I told Luca, he had been quiet for several seconds.
Then he said, “My mother would have liked that.”
I did not ask more.
I could not handle another dead relative becoming part of my daughter’s name.
Brittany was brought to the hospital under police protection because she claimed she had been attacked.
“She is not injured,” Alvarez said.
“Then why bring her here?”
“Because she says she will only speak to you.”
I laughed.
“No.”
“I agree.”
That surprised me.
“You do?”
“You gave birth three days ago. You are not an interrogation technique.”
“Thank you.”
“But she keeps saying your daughter is in danger.”
I stopped smiling.
“What exactly did she say?”
Alvarez checked her notes.
“She said, ‘Emma thinks Derek wants the baby. He doesn’t. Someone else does.’”
The room went cold.
Luca stood near the window.
“Who?”
“She refuses to say.”
“Bring her.”
Everyone looked at me.
Alvarez frowned.
“You do not have to.”
“I know.”
“Emma.”
Luca’s voice held a warning.
I looked at him.
“You promised not to decide for me.”
His jaw tightened.
Then he nodded.
“Fine.”
Brittany entered ten minutes later.
Without her cream yoga outfit and diamond confidence, she looked younger.
Twenty-six, maybe.
Her mascara had streaked beneath her eyes.
Her blond hair was tangled.
And her stomach—
Flat.
Completely flat.
I stared.
She noticed.
Her face twisted.
“Go ahead.”
“Go ahead what?”
“Say it.”
I looked at Alvarez.
Then back at Brittany.
“You are not pregnant.”
“No.”
The word came out bitter.
“Were you ever?”
“No.”
I should have felt victorious.
Instead I felt exhausted.
“Why?”
Brittany laughed softly.
“Because Derek needed you to believe he had replaced everything.”
My skin prickled.
“What does that mean?”
“He wanted you angry.”
“Why?”
“So you would push him away.”
“He managed that without help.”
“He needed it documented.”
Alvarez stepped forward.
“Explain.”
Brittany glanced at Luca.
Fear flashed across her face.
“You cannot let him hear this.”
Luca’s expression remained flat.
I almost laughed.
“You sent me a message telling me not to trust him. Now you are standing in his hospital asking for my help.”
“I did not send the first messages.”
Silence.
“What?”
“I sent the one about the final box. Nothing before that.”
Alvarez wrote quickly.
“Who sent the others?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then start talking.”
Brittany looked at me.
“I met Derek eighteen months ago.”
My stomach tightened.
Long before I suspected.
“He approached me because of my mother.”
“Rachel.”
Her face changed.
“You know.”
“Yes.”
“My mother worked for Matteo Moretti.”
“I know that too.”
“She kept records.”
Luca stepped closer.
“What records?”
Brittany flinched.
“About the night he died.”
The room changed.
Luca’s voice dropped.
“What records?”
“My mother believed someone inside the Moretti organization ordered the crash.”
Marco immediately spoke.
“Careful.”
Brittany looked at him.
“That is what she believed.”
Luca’s face revealed nothing.
“Who?”
“She never wrote a name.”
“Then what did she write?”
“That Matteo had found the second ledger.”
Luca frowned.
“What second ledger?”
“I don’t know.”
“Brittany.”
“I don’t know!”
She shouted, then covered her face.
Alvarez stepped between her and Luca.
“Back up.”
Luca did.
Brittany breathed shakily.
“My mother became paranoid after Matteo died. She said people were watching us. We moved three times.”
“Why did police rule her death an overdose?” Alvarez asked.
“Because she used pills.”
“You think she was killed?”
“I think somebody made sure she took too many.”
Silence.
“And Derek?” I asked.
“He contacted me after my mother’s storage unit was auctioned.”
“How did he know you?”
“He said he represented someone who wanted documents that might have been hers.”
“Who?”
“He never told me.”
“And you started sleeping with him?”
Her face hardened.
“I was trying to find out what he knew.”
I almost admired the lie.
Then she looked down.
“At first.”
There it was.
“Then?”
“I fell for him.”
Of course.
Derek had always been good at becoming whatever a woman needed.
With me, gentle.
With Brittany, dangerous.
Maybe with someone else, innocent.
“He told me you were unstable,” she continued.
I laughed.
“Naturally.”
“He said you trapped him with the pregnancy.”
“Of course he did.”
“He told me you might use the baby to take his money.”
“What money?”
“That was when I realized something was wrong.”
She looked at me.
“Derek does not have money.”
I frowned.
“He earns—”
“No. He owes millions.”
Luca’s gaze sharpened.
“To whom?”
“I don’t know.”
Marco did.
I could tell.
“Marco?”
He looked at Luca.
Luca nodded.
“Derek has gambling debts.”
My mouth fell open.
“He does not gamble.”
Marco’s expression almost became pity.
“Yes, he does.”
“How much?”
“Documented? Nearly two million.”
My stomach turned.
“And undocumented?”
“Possibly more.”
I thought of canceled dinners.
Late meetings.
Trips to Milwaukee.
Phone calls outside.
Everything rearranged itself again.
Brittany continued.
“He needed access to the Moretti trust.”
I looked at her.
“How?”
“Through you.”
“You knew?”
“Not at first.”
“When did you learn?”
“Six weeks ago.”
“The same time you announced the pregnancy.”
“Yes.”
“Why fake it?”
“Derek said we needed you emotionally unstable.”
Alvarez frowned.
“For what legal purpose?”
“Custody.”
My entire body went cold.
“Custody of Isabella?”
“He wanted to establish that you were experiencing severe postpartum psychiatric symptoms.”
I stared.
My anger became so complete it was almost peaceful.
“He wanted me declared unstable.”
“Yes.”
“And the affair?”
“Part of it.”
“The pregnancy announcement while I was in labor?”
Brittany looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
“His refusal to sign?”
“Yes.”
“The paternity accusation?”
“Yes.”
Each answer landed like a hammer.
He had not simply hurt me.
He had designed the pain.
“Why?”
Brittany began crying.
“Because once paternity was confirmed, he planned to petition for emergency custody.”
My arms automatically reached toward Isabella’s bassinet.
“And then?”
“He believed controlling the child would give him leverage over you.”
“For the trust.”
“Yes.”
Luca’s voice was ice.
“He cannot access her inheritance simply through custody.”
“I know.”
“Derek knows.”
“Yes.”
“Then there is another step.”
Brittany looked at him.
Fear returned.
“What?”
Luca asked.
She shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“Brittany.”
“He kept saying once Emma signed the settlement, everything would be over.”
“What settlement?” I asked.
“He had papers.”
“What papers?”
“I never saw them completely.”
“Try.”
She closed her eyes.
“Waiver of inheritance.”
Luca swore quietly in Italian.
My pulse thudded.
“He planned to make me give up the trust.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He thought if he had Isabella, you would sign anything.”
I stopped breathing.
There it was.
The plan.
Not kidnapping for money.
Kidnapping for control.
I looked toward Detective Alvarez.
“Arrest him.”
“We need evidence tying him to the false medical order.”
“He planned to take my baby.”
“We are building the case.”
“I want him nowhere near us.”
“He will not be.”
Brittany suddenly spoke.
“You still don’t understand.”
We all looked at her.
“Derek is not the one who created the plan.”
Luca’s face hardened.
“Who did?”
“I don’t know his name.”
“Describe him.”
“I never saw his face.”
Marco scoffed.
“That is convenient.”
“I heard him.”
“When?”
“Derek took calls on speaker sometimes.”
“Voice?”
“Older. American. Maybe sixties.”
“What did he say?”
“Mostly instructions.”
“Anything identifying?”
She thought.
Then her face changed.
“One thing.”
“What?”
“He called Luca…”
She hesitated.
Luca’s eyes narrowed.
“What did he call me?”
“The spare.”
The room became silent.
Marco looked genuinely shocked.
Luca did not move.
I looked between them.
“What does that mean?”
Nobody answered.
“Luca.”
His jaw tightened.
“My father used that word.”
“For you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was his second son.”
“Matteo was younger than you.”
“Yes.”
“Then why were you the spare?”
Luca looked toward the floor.
“Because Matteo was intended to inherit the legitimate businesses.”
“And you?”
“The other ones.”
The distinction said everything.
Brittany wiped her eyes.
“The man told Derek, ‘The spare thinks he owns Chicago because the heir is dead.’”
Luca went completely still.
“Exact words?”
“Yes.”
Marco’s face had changed.
He looked not frightened.
Horrified.
“Who knew Vittorio called you that?”
Luca answered without taking his eyes off Brittany.
“Family.”
“How many?”
“Very few.”
My daughter began crying.
I reached for her.
Then Brittany whispered:
“There was one more thing.”
“What?” I asked.
“The man said Derek should not worry about Luca.”
“Why?”
“Because once he opened the final box…”
She swallowed.
“…Luca would be too busy learning who killed Matteo to protect you.”
Silence.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone froze.
Alvarez took it, placed it on speaker, and answered.
“Who is this?”
For several seconds, nothing.
Then an older male voice.
Calm.
Almost amused.
“Hello, Emma.”
Luca’s face lost all color.
I looked at him.
He recognized the voice.
The caller continued.
“You named the baby Isabella. Your mother would appreciate that.”
My blood froze.
“How do you know that?”
A soft chuckle.
“Because, sweetheart, I have been closer to your family than Luca ever realized.”
Luca stepped toward the phone.
“Who are you?”
The man ignored him.
“Emma, ask your brother where Marco was the night Matteo died.”
Every eye turned.
Marco did not move.
May you like
The call ended.
And for the first time since I had met him, Luca Moretti reached for his gun.
