Chapter 2 - THE UNCLE’S CONFESSION

Six months later.

The spring sun was shining brightly through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the Moretti estate’s dining room. The heavy, dark curtains that had always made the room feel like a museum had been replaced with sheer white linen, letting the light pour in.

I wasn’t holding a silver serving tray today.

I was sitting at the head of the table.

I took a sip of my coffee, looking over the new financial reports for the Moretti shipping ports. Since Carlo and Vincent’s arrests, we had restructured the entire business. It was legitimate now. Clean. Profitable.

And as a fifty-percent owner of the empire, I made sure of it.

The heavy oak doors of the dining room swung open.

Leo came sprinting into the room, wearing a little baseball uniform and a cap that was slightly too big for his head. He was giggling uncontrollably.

“Auntie Rachel! Hide me!” Leo squealed, diving under the long mahogany table.

A second later, Luca jogged into the room, holding a baseball glove and looking playfully exhausted.

“Where did he go?” Luca asked, putting his hands on his hips. He looked at me and winked. “Rachel, have you seen a six-year-old menace run through here?”

I smiled, pretending to study my financial reports. “I don’t know, Luca. I think he might have escaped to the gardens.”

A muffled giggle came from under the tablecloth near my legs.

Luca immediately lunged, diving under the table and scooping Leo up amidst a fit of shrieks and laughter.

“Gotcha!” Luca laughed, spinning his son around in the air before setting him on his feet. “Go wait by the car, buddy. We’ll leave for practice in five minutes.”

“Okay, Dad!” Leo yelled, sprinting out the door toward the driveway.

Luca watched him go, a look of absolute peace on his face. It was a look I never thought I’d see on the ruthless mafia boss I had worked for five years ago. He was a different man now. A father.

Luca walked over and pulled out the chair next to mine. He poured himself a cup of coffee.

“How do the port numbers look?” he asked, nodding to the folders.

“Better than ever,” I said, closing the file. “The new foremen are reporting record profits. And the charity fund in my mother’s name just cleared its first million-dollar donation to St. Jude’s Orphanage.”

Luca smiled softly. “She’d be proud of you, Rachel.”

“She’d be proud of us,” I corrected him.

The doors opened again, and Teresa walked in.

She wasn’t using a cane anymore. She wore a bright floral dress, her hair beautifully styled. She looked ten years younger than the night of that awful engagement dinner.

She walked over to me and placed a small velvet box on the table in front of my files.

I looked at it, confused. “What’s this?”

“Open it,” Teresa smiled.

I opened the box.

Inside, resting on the black velvet, was the pearl necklace.

It had been perfectly restrung. The broken clasp was replaced with a new, solid gold one. It glowed beautifully in the sunlight.

“Teresa,” I gasped. “These are your wedding pearls.”

“They were,” Teresa said gently. “But my husband gave them to me as a symbol of trust and loyalty. I can’t think of anyone who has shown more of both than you, Rachel. I want you to have them.”

Tears pricked my eyes. I stood up, and Teresa helped me fasten the pearls around my neck. They felt warm against my skin.

“Thank you,” I whispered, hugging her tightly.

Luca stood up, checking his watch. “Alright, I’ve got to get the boy to baseball practice before he decides to practice his swing on my car windows.”

He walked toward the door, but stopped and looked back at me.

“You coming to the game on Saturday, partner?” Luca asked.

I touched the pearls at my throat. I looked at the beautiful, bright room, and the family standing in it.

I wasn’t a maid anymore. I wasn’t a secret.