Chapter 20 - The Crimson Gala & The Unseen Strike
Three months later.
The Grand Plaza Ballroom in New York City was bathed in the warm, golden glow of thousands of floating fairy lights and crystal chandeliers.
Tonight was the inaugural gala of *The Isabella Moretti Foundation for the Deaf and Non-Verbal*—a global charitable initiative founded by Luca, endowed with hundreds of millions of dollars to build bilingual schools, provide free cutting-edge hearing technology, and train communities in sign language worldwide.
The room was packed with five hundred dignitaries, world leaders, artists, and families.
Isabella stood near the center of the ballroom, surrounded by a group of deaf children from her former elementary school. Her face was glowing with sheer happiness as her hands danced effortlessly in the air, telling an animated story that had the entire circle of children bursting into visual laughter, fluttering their hands in delight.
She wore a breathtaking pale lavender dress with silver embroidery, looking every inch the young princess she was.
I stood on the mezzanine balcony overlooking the celebration, sipping champagne, wearing an off-the-shoulder gown of midnight blue that complemented the emerald ring on my finger.
Luca approached from behind, his hands sliding naturally around my waist. He looked devastatingly handsome in his custom tuxedo, his hair neatly styled, the scars from that terrifying night completely hidden beneath his immaculate presentation.
"Penny for your thoughts, Mrs. Moretti," he whispered, pressing a warm kiss to the sensitive spot beneath my ear.
"I'm thinking that dreams really do come true," I replied, turning in his arms to gaze into his dark, loving eyes. "Look at her, Luca. She changed the world. And in three days, we renew our vows in Italy."
"Three days," Luca smiled, his eyes softening with endless adoration. "Just you, me, Isabella, and the Mediterranean. No guards. No syndicate business. Just our family."
Luca raised his glass to mine. "To hands that speak... and the woman who taught me how to listen."
*Clink.*
The crystal glasses touched with a melodic chime.
Suddenly, the ballroom lights dimmed.
The orchestra ceased playing, and a soft murmur swept through the crowd as the massive digital projector screen on the main stage flickered to life to display Isabella’s foundation presentation video.
Luca took my hand, leading me to the top of the mezzanine stairs to watch. Below, Isabella waved excitedly up at us, her eyes sparkling.
The video began playing—a beautiful montage of Isabella learning to sign, her triumph at the first gala, and footage of children receiving speech therapy and sign resources across the country.
The crowd cheered softly.
Then, without warning, the screen glitched.
A loud, piercing squeal of electronic feedback tore through the ballroom speakers, causing guests to cover their ears in pain.
The heartwarming video vanished.
The massive high-definition screen went pitch-black for two agonizing seconds.
Then, words written in dripping, digital crimson flashed across the 50-foot display:
*“DID YOU REALLY THINK STERLING WAS THE HEAD OF THE SNAKE, LUCA?”*
A collective gasp echoed across the ballroom. The music completely died.
Luca’s entire posture instantly froze. His glass shattered on the floor as his hand dropped toward his concealed holster. "Security! Clear the hall!"
Before his men could react, another image flashed onto the massive screen.
It was a live, high-resolution surveillance feed.
The camera was zoomed in directly on the mezzanine balcony where Luca and I stood.
And right in the center of Luca’s crisp white dress shirt, perfectly centered over his heart, danced a tiny, vibrating crimson dot.
A high-powered sniper laser.
From the ballroom floor below, Isabella saw the red dot appear on her father’s chest.
Her face drained of all color.
She didn't have a voice to scream. She couldn't shout a warning across the crowded ballroom.
Her hands flew into the air, frantically signing with desperate, frantic terror:
*NO! PAPA! DUCK!*
Across the grand ballroom, high up in the darkened ventilation rafters above the crystal chandeliers, the cold muzzle of a suppressed rifle shifted.
Luca saw Isabella’s hands.
His eyes widened in sudden, horrifying comprehension as he turned to shield me—
May you like
*PFFT!*
The muffled crack of a sniper round shattered the ballroom silence. Glass rained down from the ceiling as Isabella’s silent scream tore through the night...
