Chapter 5 - A Father's Price
On the desk, an encrypted satellite phone began to vibrate, its harsh buzzing cutting through the heavy silence of the room.
Elena’s heart leaped. "Is that him?"
Luca didn't answer immediately. He set his drink down, picked up the receiver, and pressed the speaker button.
"Moretti," Luca said flatly.
A frantic, strained voice spilled through the line. "Luca. Listen to me. We can talk about this. Killing Michael... that was an overreaction. It brings heat we don't need."
It was her father.
Elena took an involuntary step forward, her breath hitching in her throat. "Dad?" she whispered, but Luca raised a single finger, silencing her with a look of pure steel.
"You have thirty-six hours left, Robert," Luca said into the microphone. "Eighteen million in bearer bonds, delivered to the coordinates I sent to your private server. No police. No federal friends."
There was a heavy pause on the other end of the line. Elena waited to hear her father's desperate demand for her safety. She waited to hear him say he would move heaven and earth to bring his only daughter home.
"Eighteen million is impossible, Luca," Robert Voss said, his voice dropping into a desperate, haggling cadence. "Liquidating that much capital on short notice will ruin me. The market will tank my stock. I can give you five. Five million wire-transferred tonight to any offshore account in the Caymans. That covers your principal loss from the port."
Elena felt as though the floor had vanished beneath her feet.
*Five million.*
Her father was negotiating. Michael had been executed in front of him three hours ago, his daughter had been kidnapped in her bridal gown, and Robert Voss was offering twenty-five cents on the dollar to protect his stock portfolio.
"Five million?" Luca's voice was dangerously smooth. "You think your daughter's life is worth five million, Robert?"
"Be reasonable!" Robert barked, a sliver of annoyance creeping into his tone. "Elena is unharmed, isn't she? You're a businessman, Luca. You don't kill women. You took her to leverage me. I'm telling you what is financially feasible. You kill her, you get zero. You take five million, we both walk away."
Elena’s hand flew to her mouth. Tears stung her eyes, hot and humiliating.
Luca glanced at her. For a split second, there was no malice in his eyes, only a grim, sorrowful confirmation: *I told you so.*
Luca leaned over the speaker. "The price just went up to twenty million, Robert. And with every hour you waste trying to save your margin, I send you a piece of her dowry. Starting with the diamond ring you bought her with my father's blood."
"Luca, wait—!"
Luca slammed the receiver down, cutting the call.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Elena stood frozen in the center of the room, her chest caving in under the weight of an agonizing revelation.
Her whole life—the private schools, the horseback riding lessons in the Hamptons, the gala appearances, the proud smiles from her father as he introduced her to high society—it had all been an illusion. She wasn't his beloved daughter. She was an asset. An expensive, decorative asset that he was currently trying to discount.
She dropped her head into her hands and began to cry, the tears shaking her entire body.
May you like
Luca watched her for a long moment. He didn't mock her. He didn't gloat. He walked over, picked up the heavy wool throw from the couch, and draped it around her shivering shoulders.
"Cry today," he said quietly, his voice unusually low. "Tomorrow, you need to survive."
