Chapter 4 - THE ENEMY WHO DIDN'T TAKE HER
Gabriel Rossi had spent seventeen years treating Luca Ferraro as an enemy.
Their families had fought over shipping contracts, warehouse territory, and influence in Chicago's underground economy.
Men had gone to prison.
Businesses had burned.
At least three people had died in disputes that began before Gabriel inherited his father's organization.
Now Gabriel was sitting across from Luca inside a private meeting room, asking the one question he'd never imagined asking a Ferraro.
“Will you help me find my fiancée?”
Luca studied him.
“That's a dangerous question.”
Gabriel placed the photograph of Isabelle on the table.
“So is whatever somebody's doing with her.”
The meeting took place inside a law office under the supervision of attorneys representing both men.
Gabriel had insisted on a neutral location.
No weapons.
No threatening entourage.
No opportunity for either side to claim an ambush.
Dante stood outside with the security detail.
Sal Moreno hadn't been informed.
That alone made Gabriel uneasy.
For years, Sal had known virtually everything happening inside the organization.
Now Gabriel was deliberately keeping him in the dark.
And he wasn't sure whether his suspicion frightened him more than the thought of being right.
Luca Ferraro was forty-five, with silver at his temples and an old scar beneath his chin.
He looked exhausted.
“Whoever arranged the delivery wanted you to think we had the girl,” he said.
Gabriel leaned forward.
“Who paid you?”
Luca shook his head.
“An intermediary.”
“Name?”
“Charles Wexler.”
Gabriel frowned.
“Never heard of him.”
“Neither had I before last week.”
“Then why accept?”
Luca looked embarrassed.
“Because he offered two hundred thousand dollars to deliver a box. No weapons. No exchange. No additional conditions.”
Gabriel stared.
“You walked into my wedding carrying my missing bride's ring for two hundred thousand dollars?”
Luca looked directly at him.
“I was told you already knew she'd left you.”
Gabriel's jaw tightened.
“Who told you?”
“Wexler.”
“And you believed him?”
Luca hesitated.
“No.”
“Then why come?”
The older man looked away.
“Because the payment came through a business account connected to someone I trusted.”
Gabriel felt his pulse quicken.
“Who?”
Luca opened a folder.
Inside was a transfer confirmation.
At the bottom appeared the name of a private consulting company.
Meridian Strategic Holdings.
Gabriel stared.
The same company Sal had spent months trying to bring into the Rossi corporate structure.
“Where did this come from?” Gabriel asked.
Luca looked at him.
“You recognize it.”
Gabriel didn't answer.
Luca leaned closer.
“That's why I agreed to meet. Somebody is using both our families.”
Gabriel examined the transaction record.
Meridian had offered to purchase a minority interest in several Rossi-controlled freight terminals.
Gabriel had refused the proposal after his attorneys discovered inconsistencies in the ownership structure.
The investors were hidden behind layers of companies.
The terms were unusually aggressive.
And Sal had become increasingly frustrated when Gabriel wouldn't approve the deal.
Now Meridian's name was attached to Isabelle's disappearance.
Gabriel looked at Luca.
“Why would they want us fighting?”
The Ferraro boss gave a humorless smile.
“Because if we start killing each other, everybody else gets to buy what's left.”
Gabriel sat back.
It made terrible sense.
A war between the Rossis and Ferraros would disrupt their legitimate operations.
Contracts would be suspended.
Investors would panic.
Police attention would intensify.
And Meridian's partners could acquire distressed assets for a fraction of their value.
Isabelle's disappearance wasn't necessarily the final objective.
It could be the spark.
Luca turned toward the photograph.
“Is she alive?”
Gabriel looked down.
“She was when this was taken.”
Luca studied the image.
“She looks terrified.”
“Yes.”
A long silence followed.
Then Luca said, “My daughter is twenty.”
Gabriel raised his eyes.
“She studies architecture in Boston.”
“Good for her.”
Luca nodded.
“If somebody took her on her wedding day, I'd burn down everything I owned trying to find her.”
Gabriel stared.
The admission came from a man he'd spent years regarding as a monster.
Luca continued.
“But I wouldn't burn down a city full of people who had nothing to do with it.”
Gabriel lowered his eyes.
For a moment, he saw his own reputation reflected back at him.
The man who could order violence without hesitation.
The man whose enemies believed taking his bride would trigger a war.
He looked at Luca.
“Then let's make sure they don't get what they want.”
Across Chicago, Isabelle sat in the windowless room staring at the painting propped against the wall.
Voss had left her alone again.
She could hear machinery somewhere beyond the door.
A freight elevator.
Perhaps ventilation equipment.
She tried to count the sounds.
Every thirteen minutes, a heavy mechanical rumble traveled through the floor.
Every few hours, voices passed outside.
Sometimes she smelled coffee.
Other times diesel exhaust.
She knew the building was industrial.
Probably near the river.
But Chicago had hundreds of buildings that could fit the description.
She needed something more.
Her captors had given her a blanket and a bottle of water.
She'd refused their food until she'd watched one of them eat from the same delivery container.
It was a small precaution.
Not much.
But she was determined to remain alert.
At least once every hour, Isabelle thought about Gabriel.
Not the dangerous man who commanded an empire.
The man who carefully warmed her cold hands inside his coat when they walked along the lakefront.
The man who learned how to make pancakes because she loved slow Sunday mornings.
The man who had once admitted that falling in love frightened him more than his enemies.
She wondered whether he believed she'd abandoned him.
The message delivered at the cathedral had been written under pressure.
Voss had dictated it.
She had deliberately kept her handwriting steady.
But she'd changed one small thing.
In the photograph, she'd used the angel's gesture.
She prayed Gabriel noticed.
A key turned.
Voss entered carrying a tablet.
“Miss Hart.”
She looked up.
“What now?”
“We need your assessment.”
“You already have my answer.”
He placed the tablet on the table.
It displayed a digital copy of the painting's ownership history.
Several pages carried her professional logo.
Her stomach dropped.
“That's not my report.”
Voss smiled.
“It could be.”
“You forged my letterhead.”
“We prepared a draft.”
She stared.
“Without authorization.”
“Which is why we need your signature.”
Isabelle looked down at the documents.
They claimed the painting belonged to Meridian Strategic Holdings.
They also asserted that the canvas had always been part of a legitimate private collection.
If she signed, the company could use the authentication as supporting documentation in financial proceedings involving valuable art-backed collateral.
More importantly, the forged provenance would conceal the painting's genuine connection to historic shipping records.
She looked at Voss.
“Why does the canvas matter so much?”
He smiled.
“You're the expert.”
Isabelle leaned forward.
“Because the backing proves the painting passed through a warehouse it was never supposed to enter.”
His smile disappeared.
For the first time, she knew she'd frightened him.
That evening, Gabriel visited Isabelle's gallery.
Claire led him into a small examination room.
The walls were covered with conservation photographs.
A large monitor displayed the image of the painting.
Gabriel studied it.
“Why would Isabelle care about the backing?”
Claire hesitated.
“Because the original material contains a series of handwritten inventory references.”
“Shipping numbers?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of inventory?”
“That's what she was trying to determine.”
Claire opened another image.
This one showed the rear of the canvas.
Several faded marks appeared beneath the lining.
Gabriel leaned closer.
One was a number.
M-417.
He frowned.
“That isn't a standard artwork accession number.”
Claire nodded.
“Isabelle thought it referred to a shipping container.”
Gabriel stared.
Then he remembered something.
An old Northpoint Freight terminal used to maintain a private storage section called Meridian Four.
The space had been closed during an internal review three years earlier.
Sal had been responsible for the shutdown.
Gabriel looked at Claire.
“Can you send these images to Detective Keene?”
“Yes.”
“And preserve the originals.”
She nodded.
“Of course.”
That night, Gabriel returned to his office.
Dante waited beside the window.
“What did Ferraro say?”
Gabriel told him about Meridian.
The payment.
The proposed acquisition.
And the possibility that somebody wanted the two criminal families to go to war.
Dante looked grim.
“Sal recommended that deal.”
“I know.”
“He also approved the wedding security budget.”
“I know.”
“And he had access to the hotel's contractor accounts.”
Gabriel stared at him.
“Yes.”
Dante looked away.
“I've known Sal for twenty years.”
“So have I.”
“Do you really think he'd betray us?”
Gabriel was silent for a long moment.
Then he looked at the photograph of Isabelle on his desk.
“I think somebody already has.”
Just after midnight, Gabriel received an email from an unfamiliar address.
The subject line contained three words.
SHE'S STILL BREATHING.
Attached was a short video.
Isabelle sat against a bare wall, still wearing her damaged wedding dress.
Her face was pale.
But she was looking directly at the camera.
A man's voice spoke offscreen.
“Tell Gabriel what he needs to know.”
Isabelle swallowed.
Then said quietly, “Don't sign anything.”
The video ended.
Gabriel replayed it.
Once.
Twice.
Then a third time.
He focused on her expression.
She hadn't begged.
Hadn't cried.
Hadn't said goodbye.
She had given him an instruction.
“Don't sign anything.”
Gabriel looked toward the unsigned Meridian acquisition agreement on his desk.
And suddenly he understood why the kidnappers had chosen his wedding day.
May you like
They weren't only trying to hurt him.
They were trying to force him into a decision.
