Chapter 2 - THE SILK SCARF
Nico Caruso did not yell. He did not throw the phone. He simply placed it on the center of the dining table, the screen still illuminated with the mocking caption about his eight-year-old daughter.
The silence in the room was absolute. The other guests, mostly Vivienne’s friends and a few of Nico’s associates, stared at their half-empty wine glasses.
“Nico,” Vivienne started, her voice tight but trying for a breezy laugh. “It’s social media. Everyone exaggerates for engagement. It’s how the platform works.”
Nico stood up. He walked around the table until he was standing directly behind Vivienne’s chair.
“You used my daughter’s speech impediment to build a following,” he said. His voice was low, carrying a dangerous calm that made the hairs on my arms stand up.
“I was raising awareness,” she countered, shifting in her seat. “People love a journey. I was going to show how much she improved under my care.”
Lily shrank against my side, her small hand gripping the fabric of my apron. I put my arm around her shoulders.
“Pack your things,” Nico said.
Vivienne turned around, her perfect mask slipping. “What? We’re getting married in three weeks. You can’t cancel a wedding over a TikTok video.”
“I’m not cancelling a wedding,” Nico said. “I’m removing a threat to my child. You have ten minutes to leave my house.”
She stood up, her face flushing with sudden, ugly anger. “You need me, Nico. Your public image is a disaster. You think the board of the foundation will accept a mafia thug without a respectable woman on his arm? You’re nothing but a criminal in a nice suit.”
“Ten minutes,” Nico repeated.
Vivienne snatched her purse off the table. As she turned on her heel to storm out, her silk scarf caught on the edge of the mahogany chair and slid to the floor. She didn't stop to pick it up. The heavy oak front door slammed behind her a moment later, vibrating the crystal glasses on the table.
The guests quickly excused themselves, muttering awkward apologies. Within minutes, the grand dining room was empty, save for Nico, Lily, and me.
“Daddy?” Lily whispered.
Nico knelt down so he was at eye level with her. The coldness in his eyes melted away completely. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn't know. I should have known.”
“Is she… coming back?”
“Never,” he promised. He looked up at me. “Take Lily to her room, Kate. Read her a story. I need to make some calls.”
I nodded and led Lily upstairs. It took an hour to soothe her, reading Charlotte’s Web until her breathing deepened and she fell asleep holding my hand.
When I finally came back downstairs to clear the table, the house was dark and quiet. I picked up the wine glasses, stacking the plates. Then, I saw Vivienne’s silk scarf still lying on the rug.
I bent down to pick it up. As the fabric lifted, something heavy clattered to the hardwood floor.
It was a small, black velvet pouch that had been wrapped inside the silk.
I hesitated, looking toward the hallway. Nico was in his study, the heavy door shut. I opened the velvet pouch.
It wasn't jewelry. It was a heavy silver key, ornate and old-fashioned. And wrapped around it was a crumpled receipt from a locksmith, dated two days ago.
Vivienne hadn’t just been using Lily for internet clout. She had copied a key to something in this house.
I turned the receipt over. On the back, written in Vivienne’s manicured scrawl, was a single line.
Check the medical file. He lied about Elena.
Elena was Nico’s late wife. Lily’s mother. The woman who supposedly died in a tragic car accident five years ago.
Suddenly, a shadow fell across the dining room floor. I spun around.
May you like
Nico was standing in the doorway, staring directly at the silver key in my hand.
“Where did you find that?” he asked softly.
