Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO DISAPPEARED BEFORE ME
The ride back to Manhattan was silent for exactly four minutes.
Then I said, “Stop the car.”
Luca looked at me.
“No.”
I leaned forward.
“Driver, pull over.”
The driver’s eyes flicked toward Luca in the mirror.
Luca said, “Keep driving.”
I laughed once.
“Congratulations. You just broke rule number three.”
“Sophia.”
“You don’t order me around.”
“This is different.”
“It always is when you’re the one breaking the rule.”
He looked out the window.
Snow had begun falling.
“You’re not safe alone tonight.”
That silenced me.
Not because I believed him.
Because he believed himself.
“Explain.”
“I will.”
“Now.”
His eyes met mine.
“My fiancée’s name was Isabella Romano.”
I waited.
“We were engaged seven years ago.”
“Did you love her?”
“Yes.”
The answer came without hesitation.
Something inside me twisted.
Ridiculous.
A woman had disappeared and I was jealous of the fact that he had loved her.
I hated myself for it.
“What happened?”
“Three weeks before our wedding, Isabella told me she had discovered irregularities in Moretti Holdings.”
“What kind?”
“Money moving through shell corporations. Properties being purchased at inflated prices. Contracts awarded to companies that barely existed.”
“Fraud?”
“Yes.”
“Whose?”
“I didn’t know.”
“And then she disappeared?”
“Forty-eight hours later.”
My anger cooled.
“Police?”
“Investigated.”
“And?”
“Her car was found near the Hudson.”
My stomach tightened.
“Body?”
“No.”
“So she could be alive.”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe she is?”
Luca did not answer.
That was answer enough.
I looked at the photograph again.
“Why did someone connect me to her?”
“Because you’re sitting beside me.”
“No. The note specifically says ‘the last woman who pretended to love a Moretti.’ That means someone knew tonight was fake.”
His expression changed.
Exactly.
“Who knew?” I asked.
“My security director. My public-relations director. The driver.”
“Charles?”
“No.”
“Ethan?”
“No.”
“Then we have a leak.”
“Yes.”
“And the gala?”
“I asked you because rumors about my personal life were affecting negotiations.”
“That’s the story you gave me.”
“It’s true.”
“But not all of it.”
Luca looked away.
I felt anger return.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“The board has been pressuring me to announce a merger.”
“With whom?”
“Mercer Capital.”
Daniel.
My dance partner’s friend.
“And?”
“Charles supports it.”
“You don’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because the numbers don’t make sense.”
I stared at him.
“Like seven years ago?”
“Yes.”
The car suddenly felt colder.
“And you thought appearing with a girlfriend would distract them?”
“I thought it would change the conversation for forty-eight hours while I investigated.”
“So I was camouflage.”
His eyes came back to mine.
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt.
“Thank you.”
“Sophia.”
“No. I appreciate finally getting the truth.”
“That was not the only reason.”
I looked at him.
“Then what was?”
His jaw tightened.
“I wanted you there.”
I almost laughed.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Liar.”
His expression sharpened.
“You want honesty?”
“Yes.”
“I have wanted to take you somewhere that wasn’t an office for longer than I should admit.”
Silence.
My heart made an embarrassing movement.
“Then why didn’t you ask me?”
“Because I’m your employer.”
That answer stopped me.
“Because you work for me. Because there is a power imbalance whether we acknowledge it or not. Because if I asked and you said yes, I would spend the entire evening wondering whether you actually wanted to be there or thought saying no could affect your career.”
I stared at him.
For four years, I had occasionally wondered why Luca never crossed the line.
Now I understood.
It was not because he had never seen the line.
It was because he had been standing beside it the entire time.
The sedan stopped outside my apartment building.
Luca looked at the entrance.
“You’re staying at my penthouse.”
“No.”
“Sophia.”
“I have locks.”
“Someone photographed you.”
“In Manhattan. That isn’t exactly difficult.”
“They knew about Isabella.”
“That’s your problem.”
“They connected you to me.”
“That part is your fault.”
Pain crossed his face.
Good.
I wanted him to understand that.
“I know.”
My anger weakened.
He continued.
“Let my security team stay downstairs.”
I considered it.
“Downstairs.”
“Yes.”
“Not outside my apartment.”
“Yes.”
“And you go home.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You’re negotiating security?”
“I learned from you.”
A reluctant smile.
“Fine.”
I opened the door.
“Sophia.”
I turned.
Luca looked like he wanted to say something.
Instead, he said, “Lock the door.”
I rolled my eyes.
But I did.
At 2:13 a.m., someone knocked.
I sat upright.
Three knocks.
Not loud.
My phone immediately lit up.
LUCA: Do not open the door.
I stared at the message.
ME: How do you know someone is here?
LUCA: Security called me.
ME: I thought you went home.
LUCA: I did.
Another knock.
Then a man’s voice.
“Sophia?”
Ethan.
I approached the door but did not open it.
“What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“At two in the morning?”
“Preferably before Moretti’s security throws me downstairs.”
My phone rang.
Luca.
I ignored it.
“Sophia,” Ethan said. “I know about Isabella.”
My hand froze.
“How?”
“Open the door.”
“No.”
“Smart.”
He lowered his voice.
“Then listen.”
I moved closer.
“My firm has been investigating the Moretti-Mercer merger.”
“Your firm?”
“I’m not just opening a hospitality fund.”
“What are you doing?”
“I work with a group of private investors trying to identify financial fraud before acquisitions.”
“That sounds suspiciously vague.”
“It is intentionally vague.”
“Why tell me?”
“Because someone is moving money through Moretti subsidiaries.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Charles?”
“Maybe.”
“Daniel?”
“Maybe.”
“Luca?”
Silence.
That frightened me.
“Do you think Luca is involved?”
“I think Luca knows more than he told you.”
I closed my eyes.
“That’s not exactly groundbreaking.”
Ethan continued.
“Isabella contacted my father before she disappeared.”
My eyes opened.
“What?”
“My father was a federal prosecutor.”
“Was?”
“He died four years ago.”
“And Isabella?”
“She told him she had evidence.”
“Of what?”
“Someone inside Moretti Holdings laundering money through hotel acquisitions.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did she give him the evidence?”
“No.”
“She disappeared first.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because tonight I saw Charles Moretti give an envelope to Daniel Mercer.”
“So?”
“So Daniel left the gala twenty minutes later.”
I thought of Daniel smiling at me.
The most important person in the building.
Then Ethan said, “And ten minutes after that, someone delivered the photograph to you.”
A sound came from the stairwell.
Ethan stopped speaking.
“What was that?” I whispered.
“Sophia, step away from the door.”
Footsteps.
Then shouting.
A crash.
I grabbed my phone and called Luca.
He answered instantly.
“What happened?”
“Someone’s outside.”
“I’m coming.”
“Luca—”
“Stay inside.”
The line went dead.
I heard another crash.
Then silence.
A minute later, security called.
They had found Ethan unconscious near the stairwell.
The other man had escaped.
Twenty minutes later, Luca arrived.
No tie.
No coat.
Just a white shirt and black trousers, as though he had run out of his apartment without thinking.
I opened the door.
He stepped inside.
His eyes traveled over me.
“You’re okay?”
“Yes.”
He exhaled.
Then his hands landed on my shoulders.
Not romantic.
Not possessive.
Checking.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
His eyes closed briefly.
That tiny reaction told me more than a speech could have.
“You were scared.”
“I was concerned.”
“You drove across Manhattan in twenty minutes.”
“Traffic was light.”
I almost smiled.
Then I remembered Ethan.
“He knew Isabella.”
Luca’s hands fell.
“What?”
“His father was a prosecutor. Isabella contacted him before she disappeared.”
Luca stared at me.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because Isabella told me she hadn’t spoken to anyone.”
“Apparently she lied.”
Something moved through his face.
Old pain.
“Maybe she didn’t trust you.”
The words came out before I could stop them.
Luca looked like I had hit him.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
He stepped away.
“You may be right.”
For the first time, I saw the part of Luca Moretti his suits were built to hide.
A man who had spent seven years wondering whether the woman he loved had disappeared because she had not trusted him enough to ask for help.
Ethan regained consciousness before dawn.
His injuries were minor.
The attacker had taken his phone.
Nothing else.
By nine the next morning, I was sitting in Luca’s penthouse because apparently being attacked adjacent to a billionaire was enough to temporarily defeat my independence.
Ethan joined us.
So did Luca’s security director, Marcus Reed.
Ethan spread financial records across the dining table.
“These transactions go back nine years.”
Luca studied them.
“Why haven’t auditors caught them?”
“They’re structured to look legitimate.”
I looked at one page.
Hotel acquisition.
Consulting contract.
Development fee.
Another.
Another.
Then I noticed something.
“These dates.”
Luca looked at me.
“What?”
“Every payment happens within forty-eight hours of one of your international trips.”
Silence.
Ethan leaned closer.
I continued.
“Someone wanted the transactions to happen when Luca was physically outside the country.”
Marcus swore quietly.
“To create plausible deniability?” Ethan asked.
“No,” I said.
“To create evidence.”
Luca’s eyes hardened.
“Evidence against me.”
Someone had spent years stealing from the company while constructing a paper trail that could eventually make Luca look responsible.
Ethan sat back.
“Who knows your travel schedule before it’s public?”
Luca and I answered together.
“Sophia.”
The room went silent.
I felt every eye turn toward me.
Then Marcus said, “Who else?”
I thought.
“Senior executives receive provisional schedules.”
“How many?”
“Six.”
“Names?”
I listed them.
Charles Moretti.
Chief financial officer Martin Hale.
General counsel Rebecca Stern.
Operations chief Peter Wallace.
Luca’s younger brother, Matteo.
And Daniel Mercer during merger negotiations.
Ethan looked at me.
“That’s our list.”
“No,” Luca said.
Everyone turned.
His expression was dark.
“That’s the list someone wants us to have.”
He picked up one transaction.
“Look at the authorization.”
My stomach dropped.
The electronic approval code belonged to me.
S. BENNETT.
Ethan stared.
“You approved this?”
“No.”
Another transaction.
My code.
Another.
My code again.
Twenty-three million dollars in transfers had been authorized using my credentials.
I felt sick.
Luca stood.
“Marcus.”
“I’ll investigate.”
“No.”
His voice became cold.
“Lock down every system. Nobody leaves the building with company equipment.”
Marcus nodded.
I looked at Luca.
“What happens to me?”
His eyes met mine.
“Nothing.”
“That’s not realistic.”
“I know you didn’t do this.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Yes, I can.”
“How?”
His answer came immediately.
“Because I know you.”
Something inside me cracked.
Ethan looked between us.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He listened.
Then looked directly at Luca.
“Police just found Isabella Romano’s car.”
Luca went white.
“It was found seven years ago.”
“No.”
Ethan swallowed.
“Not that car.”
He put the phone down.
“They found another vehicle registered under a false identity in New Jersey.”
“What does that have to do with Isabella?”
Ethan’s next words silenced the room.
“The woman driving it was arrested this morning.”
He looked at Luca.
May you like
“She says her real name is Isabella Romano.”
The woman Luca had spent seven years mourning was alive.
