Chapter 7 - The Interrogation
While the city police were still sorting through the wreckage on the Manhattan Bridge, the true climax of the Moretti wedding was taking place in the private chapel of the estate.
There was no priest. There was no congregation.
Vivien Cross sat in the front pew, her beautiful white lace wedding dress draped around her like a shroud. She looked small, defeated, and completely alone under the high, stained-glass windows of the family chapel.
Luca stood before the altar, his hands clasped behind his back, his custom black suit fitting him with absolute, terrifying perfection.
The doors of the chapel opened, and Marcus led me inside. I was still wearing my wet grey jumpsuit, my hair damp from the rain, but I held my head high as I walked down the aisle.
"Clara," Luca said, his voice echoing in the vast, empty space. "You survived the bridge."
"Your car has excellent safety ratings, Mr. Moretti," I said, stopping a few feet from him.
Luca looked down at Vivien. "The federal agents are currently raiding the Marcone compound downtown, Vivien. It seems someone leaked their private shipment logs to the district attorney's office this morning. The exact logs we found on the server you were using to coordinate with them."
Vivien didn't lift her head. She knew she had lost.
"I gave you everything," Luca said softly, his voice carrying a cold, quiet disappointment that was far more terrifying than anger. "A name. A legacy. A life. And you sold it all for a handful of silver."
"They were going to kill my brother, Luca!" Vivien suddenly screamed, her head snapping up, her face twisted in a mask of raw, ugly desperation. "The Marcones had him! They said if I didn't give them the tracker coordinates, they’d send him back to me in pieces!"
"Your brother is a gambler who ran up a five-million-dollar debt with the wrong people," Luca said, his eyes cold. "If you had come to me, I would have paid the debt. I would have secured his safety. Instead, you chose to put a target on my heart."
He stepped back, nodding to Marcus.
"Take her away," Luca said. "She will be turned over to the federal authorities. They are very interested in her connections to the Marcone family’s trafficking lines. She will spend the next twenty years in a concrete room, thinking about the wedding she didn't have."
Vivien screamed, her lace veil catching on the pew as the bodyguards dragged her out of the chapel, her cries fading into the quiet of the estate until the heavy wooden doors clicked shut once more.
The chapel was quiet again.
Luca turned back to me. He looked at my damp clothes, my bruised cheek, and the silver shears still tucked into my belt.
"You are a very unusual woman, Clara Ward," he said, stepping down from the altar to stand before me.
"I’m just a tailor who pays attention, Mr. Moretti," I said.
"A tailor who saved my life twice in forty-eight hours," Luca corrected. "The boutique is yours. The deeds have already been transferred. But I have one more request."
I looked at him, my heart doing a slow, heavy roll in my chest.
"What is it?"
"I need a new personal tailor," Luca said, his dark eyes holding mine with a intensity that made the air in the chapel feel warm. "Someone who can ensure that my clothes... never hold another trap."
I smiled, my fingers tracing the silver shears at my waist.
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"My rate is very high, Mr. Moretti."
"I expect nothing less," he said.
