Chapter 6: The Hunt For The Truth

Luca was curious to know who this person could be and what he wanted; was it money, fame, sex or a revenge mission? He walked back and forth in his office, then a thought flipped through his mind.” Jordan”. He is a reliable, potent cyber stalker. He would help.

His trembling hands picked up the cell phone “ Jordan, I just sent an email to you; get your guy to look up this number for me; I need answers within 8 hours”. Sweat drenched from his eyebrows, his body temperature rose beyond 37oc, notwithstanding the air conditioner blowing up the papers scattered on his table.

Luca tossed his phone across the room. It shattered against the marble fireplace, glass skittering like ice.  

After waiting impatiently for 5 hours, Jordan finally knocked on his door.” Come in”, he said, shaking.

Jordan breaks the silence” I really wish I had some good news for you, sadly I don't”.

"Nothing?" His voice was raw. "You’re telling me your ‘cyber guy’ found nothing?"

Jordan didn’t flinch. He never did.  

"The number’s a burner," he said, sipping his coffee like this was a board meeting. "Routing through VPNs in three different countries. Whoever’s doing this knows what they’re doing."

Luca paced, bare feet slapping against the cold tile.

The texts had escalated overnight—first to Daniel, then different texts were being delivered to TMZ ( a celebrity gossip outlet), and to every gossip blog in Hollywood.

The title on TMZ wrote “Ask Luca Moretti why Charlie Whitmore’s wife filed a restraining order last year”   

The Daily Mail blog post “ Luca’s ‘fight’ with Philip Vaughn?”. “More like a drunken meltdown over Charlie”.  

Fans reacted, disappointed, upset, disheartened, derogatory comments going from blog to blog. Negative comments fly from one blog post to another.

Luca's reputation, His Image. His career. His Life. Almost burned to the ground. I guess that's what the blackmailer wanted; by the way, well, he's won.

Daniel stood by the window, watching the sunrise paint the Hills in bloody light. He’d been silent since Jordan arrived.  

"We need compensation. Correction" Jordan said. "The studio’s already calling; The stage is falling apart; all we have worked for in the past 8 years would be futile, a waste of precious time and effort if we don't act fast”.

Luca whirled. "I’m not doing some bullshit apology tour"

"Not a tour." Jordan set down his cup. "A homecoming.”

Daniel finally turned. “What?"

Jordan smiled. "Luca Moretti goes back to his roots, in the district town in Brooklyn City, Humble, Grateful and Relatable.

Luca’s laugh was hollow. "You mean “performative, staged apology, scripted public appearance to get what exactly? Pity!! For God's sake, this fucking blackmailer could be a fan”

"I mean a necessary and mandatory apology Jordan corrected. "Three stops. Your old high school. That shitty restaurant you worked at. He pulled out his iPad, displaying a schedule. A surprise visit to  your dad’s auto shop."

Luca went very still.  

Daniel watched his pale, tired and run-down face. "You haven’t talked to your dad in years," he realized.  

Jordan stood. "Pack your bags, Luca. We leave for Bushwick at noon."

The door clicked shut behind him.  

****

The desert rolled by in a blur of dust and dead grass, The sun was setting casting a soft golden glow over the quiet road and for a moment Luca slouched in the backseat, sunglasses hiding his bloodshot eyes taking in the peaceful stillness and the gentle breeze sending some signals of relaxation and relief down his spine.

Daniel scrolled through the latest headlines:  

LUCA MORETTI: STALKER OR SCORNED LOVER?

INSIDERS POINT TO MORETTI’S ‘GOOD BOY’ IMAGE AS A LIE.

WHY DID CHARLIE WHITMORE’S WIFE CALL THE COPS ON LUCA?

"They’re crucifying you," Daniel said quietly, glancing at him.

Luca didn’t move. "They always do."The familiar fluttering in his stomach is unmistakable _an anxious mixture of nostalgia and nerves that only toxic fame can bring.

Daniel hesitated. "The restraining order—what was it all about”

"Was bullshit."Luca’s jaw clenched. "Charlie’s wife saw texts and assumed the worst."

"And were they?"Daniel pressed. "The worst?"

Luca finally looked at him. "What do you think?"

The air between them crackled.  

Jordan’s voice cut through from the front seat. "Save the melodrama. We’re here."

They finally arrived at Luca's Dad's Auto Shop in Bushwick. His heart skipped a beat. What now?. The sign read *MORETTI & SON* in faded red letters.  

Luca froze on the sidewalk. His eyebrow twitch but his expression is unreadable. Inside the shop, a heavyset man with Luca’s nose was elbow-deep in a Mustang’s engine.  

"Fuck," Luca breathed.  

Jordan checked his watch. "Twenty minutes. Hug your dad. Cry a little. Talk about ‘hard work”. He shoved a baseball cap at Luca. "And wear this."

Daniel caught Luca’s arm. "You don’t have to—".  

"Yes, "Luca said flatly. "I do."

He yanked on the cap and walked inside.  

Through the grease-streaked window, Daniel watched the moment Luca’s dad looked up—the shock, the anger, the unspoken words between them.

Jordan takes photos on his phone with the narration *Gold*. *Prodigal son returned to his father*.* A changed Man*.

Daniel’s stomach turned.  

His phone buzzed.  

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Ask Luca why he *really* left Bushwick for Williamsburg.

It seems the blackmailer knows where they are and what they are doing at every point in Time. His heart dropped into his stomach, his heart pounding, sweat dripping from his brows, it's really scary knowing that your enemy lurks around like a comforted scene.

“ Fuck you, man”. He types back with every bit of anger and resentment.