Chapter 3 - THE DEVIL IN THE DETAILS
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Claire felt Matteo’s grip on her dress tighten until his knuckles turned white. The boy was trembling.
Luca stared at the marriage certificate in Vanessa’s hand. The embossed gold seal of Cook County glinted in the chandelier light.
“It was just a formality,” Vanessa said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness as she smoothed the crease of the paper. “You signed the expedited license papers last week with your lawyers. I just took the liberty of filing them this morning before the dinner. We are husband and wife, Luca. What’s mine is yours. And what’s yours… is half mine.”
She looked around the grand foyer, her eyes raking over the priceless artwork, the imported marble, and finally landing on Claire and Matteo.
“Including the authority in this house,” she added, her gaze narrowing on Claire. “I fired this maid ten minutes ago. I want her gone. Now.”
Luca finally moved. He walked to the heavy mahogany side table, poured two fingers of amber scotch into a crystal glass, and drank it in one smooth motion. When he set the glass down, the sharp clink echoed like a gunshot.
“Elias,” Luca said.
“Yes, Boss.”
“Escort my wife to the east wing guest suite. Post two men at the door. If she attempts to leave the room, break her legs.”
Vanessa’s triumphant smile vanished. “You can’t do that! I’ll call the police! I’ll call my lawyers!”
“Call whoever you want,” Luca said, turning his back on her. “There is no cell reception in the east wing. And the landlines were removed last year. Enjoy your wedding night.”
Two massive guards flanked Vanessa instantly. She tried to scream, but Elias clamped a heavy hand onto her shoulder, steering her roughly down the long corridor. Her furious protests faded behind a set of heavy oak doors.
Luca stood alone in the center of the room. He looked exhausted. The feared mafia boss suddenly just looked like a tired father.
He turned his attention to Claire and Matteo.
“Claire.”
“Yes, Mr. Moretti.”
“Take Matteo to the kitchen. Have the chef make him whatever he wants. And wrap your hand in ice. I’m calling a doctor for you.”
“I’m fine, sir, really. It’s just a blister.”
Luca walked over to them. He knelt down so he was eye-level with his son. He gently placed his hand on the boy’s cheek.
“I’m sorry, buddy,” Luca whispered. “I didn’t know.”
Matteo wiped a tear from his face. “She said Grandpa was a loser who built cheap things. She said you hated the garage.”
“She lied,” Luca said fiercely. “Your grandfather was a better man than I will ever be. And the box you made me is the best gift I’ve ever received.”
He pulled the half-burned wooden box from his suit pocket and held it carefully, like it was made of solid gold. “We’re going to fix the garage. I promise.”
Matteo nodded slowly. Then, he looked at Claire, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“Dad… Vanessa didn’t just sell the tools.”
Luca froze. “What do you mean?”
“When she was yelling at the men to take the workbench apart this afternoon, I was hiding behind the garden wall. I saw her pull something out from the secret drawer.”
Luca’s brow furrowed. “The workbench didn’t have a secret drawer.”
“Yes, it did,” Matteo insisted. “Grandpa showed me once when I was little. There’s a hidden panel under the vice grip. Vanessa pried it open with a crowbar.”
Luca’s posture went rigid. “What did she take, Matteo?”
“A little metal tin. But she dropped it when she was walking back to the house. Something fell out.”
“What fell out?”
Matteo looked up at Claire, then back to his father. “It was a silver pocket watch. But it wasn’t Grandpa’s. It was Mom’s.”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Luca’s late wife, Sofia, had died in a tragic car accident eight years ago. She had never set foot in the garage.
“Are you sure?” Luca asked, his voice shaking.
“It had the blue bird painted on the front,” Matteo said. “The one mom always wore on a chain.”
Luca stood up slowly. He looked at Claire.
“Where did she go after she dropped it?”
Claire felt a cold sweat break out on her neck. She remembered exactly where Vanessa had gone that afternoon.
“She went into your private study, Mr. Moretti,” Claire said quietly. “She told me she was looking for a pen. But she was in there for forty minutes. And when she came out, her coat was heavy.”
Luca didn’t wait. He sprinted up the main staircase. Claire grabbed Matteo’s hand and followed close behind.
When they reached the master suite, Luca tore open the doors to Vanessa’s massive walk-in closet. He found the cashmere coat she had worn that afternoon. He reached into the deep pockets.
His hand emerged holding the silver pocket watch with the blue bird.
But that wasn’t what made Luca stop breathing.
It was what was tucked behind the watch lid. A folded, faded photograph.
May you like
Luca opened it. Claire leaned in to look.
It was a picture of Vanessa, ten years younger, smiling brightly. And she had her arms wrapped around the man who had been driving the truck that killed Luca’s wife.
