Chapter 53: Making out
But all that changed when an hour went by—and still, there was nothing. No trace of Maria. No message, no sign, nothing at all. The once-busy wedding hall was almost empty now, the laughter and chatter of guests replaced by the soft clatter of dishes as the cleaning team began their work. The air had shifted; a cold tension hung where celebration once had been.
"Something is clearly wrong!" Luca said, his voice shaking slightly, his face pale with worry. He kept glancing around as if Maria might suddenly appear from the shadows. His unease was contagious—because even Elisa, who had been calm and composed earlier, now wore an anxious expression.
Dora, too, couldn’t shake the growing dread in her chest. The security detail had been alerted almost immediately, yet no one had returned with any useful information. Every passing minute tightened the invisible knot inside her stomach.
Thirty more minutes crawled by before one of the security men—dressed in all black, an earpiece in his ear—stepped forward, his tone careful but urgent as he bowed slightly to Dante.
"Sir," he began, "we reviewed the external routes and asked the staff. Madam Maria was seen leaving the hall earlier this evening."
Luca’s head snapped toward him. "Leaving? When?"
The guard continued, "She appeared to be in high spirits, smiling. She had a glass in her hand. I watched her walk down the corridor toward the restaurant bar. She didn’t seem in distress, so I thought nothing of it."
His words hung heavy in the air. Elisa’s eyes widened; Luca’s lips parted as though to say something, but no words came out. Dora simply turned her gaze toward Dante, her expression unreadable, ignoring the small, oddly calm smile that curved his lips.
"Let’s check the hotel security room," Dante said suddenly, his voice firm, composed. "There should be cameras in every corner."
He didn’t wait for anyone to answer before turning and striding toward the exit, his security detail instantly following behind him. Signals were made, silent gestures exchanged, and soon Dora, Luca, Elisa, and two bodyguards were moving quickly through the long corridors toward the monitoring room.
The hotel manager, looking nervous, was already there when they arrived. "Of course, sir, you have full access," he said hurriedly, leading them inside.
The room was dimly lit, lined with walls of screens displaying live camera feeds from every corner of the building. The security team began to rewind footage, fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard. The air was tense, no one speaking, only the soft hum of machinery filling the silence.
Dora stood close beside Elisa, who was gripping the armrest of her wheelchair tightly. Her hands were trembling, knuckles white. Dora reached out, gently patting her shoulder. "Maybe she just stepped out for a different reason," she whispered softly, even though the words felt empty and false on her tongue. She didn’t believe them herself.
Because if Maria had simply stepped out, she would have come back by now.
"There!" one of the guards said suddenly. Everyone’s attention shot to the largest screen.
Maria appeared in the video, exactly as described—smiling faintly, her glass half full, her movements casual. She waved briefly to someone off-screen before heading into the bar. Luca leaned forward instinctively, his breathing uneven.
They fast-forwarded.
A minute later, Maria emerged—but this time she wasn’t alone. A man walked beside her, his arm comfortably draped around her waist. He leaned close, whispering something into her ear that made her smile shyly, almost flirtatiously.
Luca’s entire face turned red, veins standing out along his temples. "What the hell—" he muttered, voice breaking with disbelief and humiliation. Dora’s eyes widened, and Elisa gasped softly, both unable to look away from the screen.
The security officer hesitated before playing the next clip, but Dante gave a small nod, and the footage continued.
The pair moved down the hallway and disappeared into one of the restrooms. The guard controlling the footage switched cameras to the corridor outside the restroom. Minutes passed, and when they emerged again, the atmosphere in the room changed immediately.
On-screen, Maria and the man were in a heated make-out session—his hands gripping her waist, her back pressed against the wall. The sounds of muffled shock filled the small room. Luca’s face went from red to crimson, his entire body stiff with fury.
"Shut it down!" he barked, unable to bear it any longer. "I’ve seen enough! At least now we—"
He didn’t finish. His words froze in his throat as the footage suddenly shifted from heated passion to horrifying violence.
The man’s hand struck Maria hard across the face. Once. Twice. She stumbled. He hit her again, this time on the side of her head. She crumpled. Her body went limp, collapsing to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.
Gasps echoed through the room. Elisa’s hand flew to her mouth. Luca staggered backward, his face drained of all color. Even Dora felt her blood run cold, her fingers trembling as she clutched the back of Elisa’s chair.
On the screen, two more men appeared—both masked, both moving with disturbing efficiency. One rolled a large black suitcase toward the body. The first man crouched, checked Maria’s pulse, then lifted her limp form with ease and stuffed her into the suitcase.
The lid closed. A metallic click.
And then, just as calmly, the men rolled the suitcase out of view.
Silence fell across the room like a shroud. No one moved.
Elisa was the first to break. "They’re going to hurt her!" she cried out, voice trembling, tears spilling freely down her face. "Or worse—they... they could—"
"Don’t," Dora cut her off sharply, her voice low but firm. "Don’t say it." She turned her gaze toward Dante, searching his expression for something—but his face remained perfectly composed, almost too calm.
"For all we know, it might not even be Tiberio’s men," Dora said, trying to sound rational, even though deep down, fear clawed at her chest.
Dante finally looked at her, his gaze steady. He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His silence said enough.
It didn’t make sense—Maria had been assigned bodyguards by Dante’s own team. Unless she had dismissed them herself, there was no reason they wouldn’t have been with her. No reason anyone could have taken her so easily.
Dante finally spoke, his tone smooth and composed. "Send the footage to my private team. Compress it and forward every file. Have them analyze the man’s image and trace the car they loaded the suitcase into. Every frame matters."
The guard nodded quickly, already moving to obey.
Luca said nothing. His expression was a painful mixture of rage and terror, his eyes glassy but dry. He looked broken—betrayed and helpless all at once.
Fabio arrived moments later, his face grim as he was quickly briefed. "We’ll handle it," he said firmly. "Our security team will track down whoever did this. I’ll also inform the police, but quietly. We can’t let this become public until we know what’s happening."
Then, after a brief exchange with Dante, he turned and left to coordinate.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
"They’ll find her," Dante finally said, his voice calm, almost too calm, as though he were stating a fact rather than offering comfort.
Dora looked at him, unable to tell if his confidence was reassuring or chilling.
Elisa was crying silently now, trembling so hard her teeth chattered. Luca looked like a man seconds away from breaking apart. And Dora—Dora stood there frozen between fury and disbelief, her heart pounding violently in her chest as she stared at the blank monitor that had just displayed her stepmother’s possible death.
Dante turned slightly, his voice cold and controlled. "Let’s go. There’s nothing more we can do here."
None of them argued.
Luca, too stunned to speak, followed him out, his face pale and drawn. Elisa’s wheelchair moved silently beside Dora’s steps as they exited the room one after the other.
