Chapter 4 - Ghost of the Past
“Who is that woman?” I demanded, unable to tear my eyes away from the hauntingly familiar face on the canvas.
Luca walked slowly over to a crystal decanter and poured a generous glass of amber liquid.
“That is my late wife, Elena,” he said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, grief-stricken register.
I stared at him in utter disbelief, struggling to process the impossible information.
“She was murdered right in front of Leo exactly one month ago,” Luca continued, staring deeply into his glass.
The heavy truth hung in the air, instantly explaining why the baby was so desperately traumatized and exhausted.
“He reached for me tonight because he thought I was his mother,” I whispered, my heart breaking completely for the little boy.
Luca finally looked at me, his dark eyes ruthlessly scanning every single detail of my face.
“You are a perfect replica of her, Avery, down to the exact shade of your hair.”
I wrapped my arms around my chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed and vulnerable in this massive room.
“I am an orphan who grew up bouncing around the foster system,” I explained defensively, needing him to understand I was a nobody.
“I have absolutely no idea who my biological parents are, and I certainly don't have a secret twin sister.”
Luca stepped closer to me, bringing with him the intoxicating scent of gunpowder and expensive cologne.
“The physical resemblance is far too perfect to be a simple coincidence,” he murmured, reaching out to gently touch my cheek.
His rough thumb brushed against my skin, sending a dangerous jolt of electricity straight down my spine.
I knew I should have slapped his hand away, but I was entirely paralyzed by the magnetic pull between us.
Before the intimate moment could escalate any further, the heavy wooden doors of the study burst open.
Luca’s head of security rushed into the room, holding a blood-stained electronic tablet in his hand.
“Boss, we interrogated one of the surviving shooters from the restaurant to find out who hired them,” the guard panted.
Luca stepped away from me, instantly transforming back into the ruthless mafia don everyone in the city feared.
“Who ordered the hit on my son?” Luca demanded, his voice echoing like thunder in the large room.
The guard looked nervously at me before turning his attention back to his boss.
“The assassination contract wasn't ordered on the boy, sir,” the guard said hesitantly.
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The man swallowed hard and showed Luca the encrypted financial file on the glowing screen.
“The hit was ordered exclusively on the waitress, and the employer's name on the bank transfer is Elena Moretti.”
