Chapter 8: The Woman Who Knew The Truth
For three seconds, neither of us moved.
The photograph on Luca’s phone glowed between us.
His mother.
Bound to a chair.
Terrified.
A woman who had always appeared untouchable.
Elegant.
Controlled.
The kind of woman who could enter a room and make everyone else adjust their posture.
But now she looked afraid.
And beneath the image were the words that made my blood run cold.
*Now ask Luca why his family is willing to destroy itself to protect one secret.*
Luca took the phone from my hand.
His face had changed completely.
The shock was gone.
The fear remained.
But underneath it was something else.
Anger.
"Where was this sent from?"" he asked.
I looked at him.
"That's your first question?""
His eyes lifted.
"Isabella.""
"No.""
My voice shook.
"Your mother is missing, Luca.""
"I know.""
"And you're asking about the location?""
"Because if I find where it came from, I can find her.""
The answer was logical.
Cold.
Very Luca.
But I saw the pain underneath.
He was terrified.
I remembered the little boy hidden beneath the powerful man.
The son who had lost his brother.
The son who had spent years searching for answers.
Now he was losing his mother too.
"What do we do?""
The question came out before I could stop it.
Luca looked at me.
For a moment, he seemed surprised.
Maybe because after everything, I was still standing beside him.
Not because I trusted him.
Not because I had forgiven him.
Because someone needed help.
"We call the police.""
I nodded.
"Okay.""
He immediately started dialing.
Then stopped.
"What?""
He looked at me.
"If this person is watching us, calling the police could put her in more danger.""
I frowned.
"Then what?""
"We need to know if the photograph is real.""
I stared at him.
"You think it's fake?""
"I don't know.""
The honesty surprised me.
"Luca Moretti doesn't know something?""
A small, sad smile appeared.
"Not anymore.""
That sentence stayed with me.
Because for the first time, I saw him without the armor.
Not as a billionaire.
Not as the man everyone feared.
Just Luca.
A man who had lost control of everything.
Twenty minutes later, we were sitting in his car outside my apartment.
I hadn't planned to go with him.
I hadn't planned to trust him.
But when he said he had a secure location where we could analyze the photograph, I followed.
Not because I believed everything was fixed.
Because my instincts told me this was bigger than our marriage.
The city moved around us.
People walked beneath umbrellas.
Taxis passed.
Life continued.
It was strange how the world could look so normal when yours was falling apart.
Luca sat beside me, staring at the road.
Neither of us spoke for several minutes.
Finally, he said:
"I should have told you about my family.""
I looked out the window.
"Yes.""
"I should have trusted you.""
"Yes.""
"I should have fought for you instead of pushing you away.""
I turned toward him.
His hands tightened around the steering wheel.
"I know saying sorry doesn't change anything.""
"No.""
"But I am sorry.""
The sincerity in his voice almost broke something inside me.
Almost.
"I don't know what to do with that.""
He nodded.
"I don't expect you to.""
That hurt.
Because there was a time when I would have forgiven him instantly.
Now forgiveness felt like a door I didn't know how to open.
The safe location was an old office building owned by one of Luca's companies.
No signs.
No employees.
Just security.
Too much security.
The moment we entered, I understood how serious this was.
Screens covered one wall.
Files filled locked cabinets.
Photographs.
Documents.
Years of secrets.
"How long have you had this place?""
"Three years.""
"Since Marco disappeared?""
He nodded.
"I needed somewhere nobody knew about.""
I looked around.
"And you never told me.""
His eyes met mine.
"No.""
I didn't answer.
Because there was nothing left to say.
He walked toward one of the computers.
"I need to check the photo metadata.""
I watched him work.
His fingers moved quickly.
Confidently.
The same way they did when he handled business deals.
Except now, the stakes were different.
This wasn't about money.
This was about people.
About family.
About us.
A few minutes later, Luca froze.
"What?""
He didn't answer.
"Luca.""
He turned the screen toward me.
The photograph information was displayed.
Date.
Time.
Location.
My heart stopped.
"That's impossible.""
Luca looked at me.
"Why?""
"Because the photo was taken from inside my apartment.""
The words left my mouth slowly.
The photograph of his mother.
The one sent to us.
It wasn't from some unknown location.
It wasn't from a warehouse.
It wasn't from a hidden room.
It was taken inside my home.
"Someone was in my apartment.""
Luca's expression turned dark.
"When?""
"The timestamp says...""
He looked at the screen.
"Today.""
A cold wave passed through me.
Today.
While I was gone.
While Luca and I were at the nursery boutique.
Someone had entered my apartment.
Someone had taken that photo.
Someone had wanted us to know.
"They're not hiding.""
Luca nodded.
"They want us scared.""
"Why?""
His eyes moved toward the files.
"Because we're getting close.""
"Close to what?""
He didn't answer.
Instead, he opened a locked drawer.
Inside was a folder.
Old.
Worn.
The label had only one word.
*Marco.*
My heart tightened.
"You kept his file?""
"Yes.""
"Why?""
"Because I never stopped looking.""
He opened it.
Inside were photographs.
Reports.
Notes.
And one final document.
I picked it up.
The title made my stomach drop.
*Incident Report: Moretti Family Residence*
Date.
Three years ago.
The night Marco disappeared.
I looked at Luca.
"What's this?""
His face became unreadable.
"The official report.""
"Then why does it matter?""
"Because the official report says Marco died in a car accident.""
I read the page.
"Yes.""
"But that's not what happened.""
I looked up.
"What happened?""
Luca stared at the document.
Then said:
"Marco came to our house that night.""
My breath caught.
"Our house?""
"Yes.""
"Why?""
"He came to warn me.""
"About what?""
Luca swallowed.
"He said someone inside the family was going to betray me.""
I looked down.
"And?""
"And before he could tell me who...""
He stopped.
"What?""
His voice became quieter.
"Someone shot him.""
The room went silent.
I covered my mouth.
"You saw that?""
"Yes.""
"Then why did everyone think it was a car accident?""
His face tightened.
"Because I lied.""
The confession landed heavily.
"What?""
"I moved him.""
My eyes widened.
"Why?""
"Because when I called for help...""
He looked away.
"My father answered.""
A horrible feeling entered my chest.
"What did he say?""
Luca's voice broke slightly.
"He told me if I wanted to survive, I needed to pretend Marco was dead.""
I stared at him.
"And you listened?""
"I was twenty-eight.""
The vulnerability in his voice stopped me.
"I had just seen my brother collapse in front of me. I didn't know who was involved. I didn't know who I could trust.""
"And you trusted your father?""
His eyes closed.
"I was wrong.""
The silence was heavy.
Then I noticed something.
A detail in the report.
A name.
I leaned closer.
"Luca.""
He looked at me.
"This says there was another witness.""
His expression changed.
"What?""
I pointed.
"Right here.""
He took the paper.
His eyes moved across the line.
Then froze.
"That's impossible.""
"What?""
He didn't answer.
He just stared.
The witness name.
The name recorded three years ago.
The person who had seen what happened.
The person who knew the truth.
I read it.
And my entire body went cold.
Because the witness wasn't dead.
Wasn't missing.
Wasn't a stranger.
It was someone who had been part of Luca's life every single day.
Someone who had been standing beside him while he destroyed our marriage.
Someone who knew everything.
May you like
The witness was:
*Vanessa Sinclair.*
