Chapter 2 - THE SEAMSTRESS'S REVENGE
The silence in the grand dining room was so absolute I could hear the rain lashing against the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Fourteen of Chicago’s wealthiest elites sat frozen in their velvet chairs, their expensive meals forgotten.
At the head of the long mahogany table, Dominic Moretti’s dark eyes locked onto his older brother.
“What did our father do, Anthony?” Dominic asked. His voice was quiet, but it carried the lethal weight that made him the most feared man in the city.
Anthony, usually composed and arrogant in his tailored suits, looked like a man standing on the edge of a cliff. A sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead.
“Evelyn is confused,” Anthony said, his voice tight. “She’s an old woman. Her memory is failing.”
Evelyn Parker didn't flinch. The seventy-four-year-old seamstress stood her ground, clutching the faded blue-and-white quilt against her chest. Her arthritic hands trembled, but her chin was raised with a fierce, unwavering dignity.
“My memory is perfectly fine, Mr. Anthony,” Evelyn said gently. “Your mother sat in my living room three days before her heart failed. She cried for two hours. She told me she was going to fix the terrible wrong your father committed twenty-six years ago.”
Isabella Romano, Dominic’s fiancée, slammed her wine glass down on the table. The dark red liquid splashed onto the pristine white tablecloth like a spray of blood.
“This is absurd!” Isabella snapped, her diamond earrings flashing in the chandelier light. “Dominic, are you really going to let a senile seamstress and a housekeeper dictate family history? Throw her out!”
Dominic didn't even look at Isabella. He kept his piercing gaze fixed on Anthony.
“Answer the question, Anthony,” Dominic commanded. “Why was Caroline blamed for something our father did? And why did you cut her name out of my mother’s quilt?”
Anthony swallowed hard. “I didn't cut it out to hide anything, Dominic. I cut it out because Caroline Hayes was a thief. She stole from this family. I didn't want a criminal’s name immortalized on our mother’s memorial quilt.”
I stood by the sideboard, my heart pounding against my ribs. I had been the head housekeeper here for twenty-nine years. I knew Caroline Hayes. She had been my friend.
“Caroline was not a thief,” I said, stepping forward.
Fourteen heads turned to look at me. I was just the help. I was supposed to be invisible. But I couldn't stay quiet. Not anymore.
“Caroline worked in this house for ten years,” I continued, my voice shaking but resolute. “She never took a dime that didn't belong to her. When your father fired her twenty-six years ago, she left with nothing but a single duffel bag.”
Isabella sneered. “Oh, look. The servants are forming a union. Helen, you are dangerously close to losing your pension.”
“Let her speak,” Patricia, the aunt, said sharply. Patricia was the matriarch of the family, a woman whose quiet authority even Isabella feared.
Patricia looked at me, her eyes filled with a deep, sorrowful knowing. “Tell them what you found the night Caroline left, Helen.”
I took a deep breath. “I was the one who cleaned Caroline’s room after she was escorted off the property. Your father told the staff she had stolen cash from his safe. But I found her wallet under her bed. She had left her own wages behind.”
Dominic stood up slowly. His imposing six-foot-three frame cast a long shadow over the table.
He walked over to Evelyn.
“May I see the quilt, Mrs. Parker?” he asked, his tone softening to one of deep respect.
Evelyn hesitated, then gently placed the heavy fabric into the mafia boss’s hands.
Dominic carried the quilt to the dining table. He swept Isabella’s expensive china plates and crystal glasses out of the way, ignoring her outraged gasp, and laid the quilt flat under the light.
He traced his fingers over the empty space where the fourteenth square used to be. The edges were jagged, hastily snipped with sharp scissors.
“Anthony,” Dominic said quietly, examining the remaining threads. “You always were a terrible liar.”
Dominic pulled a silver steak knife from the table setting.
“Dominic, what are you doing?” Anthony shouted, leaping to his feet. “Don't ruin it!”
But Dominic ignored him. With surgical precision, he slid the blade of the knife into the seam directly behind where the missing square had been. He cut through the thick cotton backing.
Isabella lunged forward to stop him, but Patricia grabbed her wrist in a vice-like grip. “Sit down, Isabella.”
Dominic pulled the seam apart.
Hidden inside the thick batting of the quilt, tightly wrapped in a piece of oiled canvas, was a heavy, tarnished silver pocket watch.
A collective gasp echoed through the dining room.
Dominic carefully unwrapped the canvas. He held the watch by its broken chain. The silver casing was heavily dented, as if it had been struck by something incredibly forceful.
And smeared across the back of the watch was a dark, rusted stain.
Dried blood.
“My mother didn't just want to immortalize Caroline’s name,” Dominic whispered, staring at the gruesome artifact. “She used this quilt to hide evidence.”
Anthony’s face went completely ashen. He looked as though he might be sick.
Dominic turned the watch over. He popped the latch open with his thumb.
Inside the cover, an elaborate crest was engraved into the silver. A roaring lion holding a sword.
I recognized that crest immediately. It was stamped on every piece of luggage Isabella Romano brought into this house.
Dominic looked up, his eyes locking onto his fiancée.
“This is your family’s crest, Isabella,” Dominic said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “Why was my mother hiding a bloodstained Romano watch inside her quilt?”
Isabella’s face drained of color. She stared at the watch, her arrogant mask shattering into a million pieces.
She took a stumbling step backward, her hand flying to her mouth in pure horror.
“That’s impossible,” Isabella choked out, her eyes wide with panic. “That watch was buried twenty-six years ago. I saw it go into the ground.”
Dominic stepped toward her, the bloody watch gleaming in his hand.
“Buried with who, Isabella?”
May you like
Isabella looked at Anthony. And in that one panicked glance, I saw a secret language pass between them. A desperate, terrified plea.
“Tell him, Anthony!” Isabella screamed. “Tell him what your father forced Caroline to do before I call my family and start a war right here in your dining room!”
