CHAPTER 3: A DEBT TO THE MORETTI FAMILY

Vincent Moretti wasn't a large man.

At least not physically.

But when he entered the center of the ballroom, the atmosphere changed so completely that it felt as if the oxygen had been pulled from the room.

Nobody interrupted him.

Nobody challenged him.

Nobody even looked directly into his eyes for very long.

He walked past Victoria without acknowledging her.

Past the guests.

Past the cameras.

Straight toward his mother.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Isabella smiled softly.

"I'm fine."

Vincent crouched beside her wheelchair.

His expression softened for only a second.

Then he looked up.

At Emma.

"You stopped her."

Emma felt her throat tighten.

"I just... didn't think anyone should hit her."

A strange smile appeared at the corner of Vincent's mouth.

Not amusement.

Respect.

Something far more dangerous.

He stood and extended his hand.

"Vincent Moretti."

The entire ballroom seemed to stop breathing.

Emma stared.

Everyone in Chicago knew that name.

Everyone.

Slowly, she shook his hand.

The moment their hands touched, camera flashes erupted from every direction.

Victoria's face darkened.

Because she understood what nobody else did.

Vincent Moretti never publicly acknowledged strangers.

Never.

Unless they mattered.

And now, every person in that ballroom was watching him treat a waitress like an equal.

The consequences would be enormous.

But the biggest surprise came next.

Vincent turned toward his head of security.

"Find out who she is."

Emma blinked.

"What?"

The guard immediately nodded.

"Yes, sir."

"I don't need—"

Vincent interrupted her.

"My mother was insulted."

His gaze shifted briefly toward Victoria.

"Most people watched."

Then back to Emma.

"You didn't."

The room fell silent again.

Then Isabella spoke.

"Bring her to lunch tomorrow."

Emma's eyes widened.

Victoria's face turned pale.

Because Isabella Moretti never invited strangers anywhere.

And there was a reason.

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