Chapter 4 - THE TORN TICKET
The heavy gold pocket watch sat on Catherine’s favorite floral quilt like a bomb waiting to detonate. Luca stared at the Bellini crest. Four years of mourning, of agonizing guilt, of believing his wife had simply lost control of her car on a rainy night—all of it shattered in a single second. It hadn't been an accident. It had been an execution. “Close the estate,” Luca commanded his guards. “Nobody leaves. Not the guests, not the staff, and especially not Victor Bellini.” “Luca, wait!” Vanessa lunged forward, grabbing his arm. “My father is in the dining room! If your men lock the doors, he’ll think it’s a trap! There will be a bloodbath!” “There is already a bloodbath, Vanessa,” Luca said, his voice dead of all emotion. He peeled her fingers off his suit jacket with horrifying calm. “It’s just taken four years to bleed out.” He turned to walk out the door. But Teresa suddenly gasped, her frail hands gripping the armrests of her wheelchair. “Mr. Moretti, wait,” I said, kneeling beside her. “She’s trying to say something.” Teresa was breathing heavily, the stress of the evening taking a severe toll on her fragile heart. She reached a shaking hand toward the neckline of her cardigan and pulled out a delicate pearl rosary I had seen her hold a thousand times. “Catherine...” Teresa wheezed, her eyes wide with urgency. “The day she died... she gave me this. She said to open it if she ever didn't come home.” Luca rushed to his mother's side. He gently took the rosary from her trembling hands. Attached to the center of the pearls was a small, silver locket. Luca pressed the tiny latch. The locket popped open. There was no photograph inside. Instead, folded tightly into a tiny square, was a torn piece of thick paper. Luca carefully extracted it and unfolded it in his palm. I leaned closer to look. It was a train ticket stub. It was dated four years ago, stamped exactly two hours before the time of Catherine's fatal crash. The destination printed on the ticket was a place called St. Agatha’s. “St. Agatha’s?” Marco frowned, looking over Luca's shoulder. “That’s a tiny parish town three hundred miles north of the city. There’s nothing up there but a convent and an orphanage.” Luca's eyes widened as the horrifying puzzle finally clicked into place. “She wasn't running away from me,” Luca whispered, the revelation breaking his voice. “She discovered Victor Bellini was planning a coup. She knew he was coming for our son. She drove to the station, put Matteo on a train to hide him with the nuns at St. Agatha’s, and then drove her car in the opposite direction.” “She acted as bait,” I breathed, realizing the absolute, terrifying courage of the woman whose memory Vanessa had tried to erase. “She led Victor's men away from the train station so Matteo could escape.” Tears spilled down Luca's cheeks. He looked at the torn ticket, then turned his lethal gaze back to Vanessa. “You didn't know Matteo was alive until recently,” Luca said, connecting the final dots. “That's why you were expanding the bracelet clasp. You’ve been looking for him. And yesterday, you finally found out where he is.” Vanessa backed up against the wall, her perfect facade crumbling into sheer panic. “We had to find him, Luca!” she cried. “The Bellini family needed the Moretti trust! Without a male heir, the empire goes to the surviving wife! I needed to marry you, and I needed the boy eliminated so his claim wouldn't invalidate my inheritance!” “You disgust me,” Luca said quietly. Suddenly, a sharp, buzzing vibration echoed in the silent room. It was coming from Vanessa’s jeweled clutch sitting on the vanity table. Vanessa’s eyes darted to the bag. She lunged for it, but Marco was faster. He snatched the clutch, pulled out her glowing smartphone, and looked at the screen. Marco's face went completely pale. “Boss,” Marco said, holding the phone out to Luca. I looked at the glowing screen. It was a text message from an unknown number. We breached the convent. We have the boy. We are parked outside the mansion's service gates.
