Chapter 2 - THE DIAMOND EARRING
The silence in the dining room was absolute. Twenty-eight wealthy, powerful guests sat frozen in their velvet chairs. Luca Moretti didn’t look at them. He didn’t look at his fiancée, who was now clutching the edge of the mahogany table as if the floor had vanished beneath her. He looked only at the photograph in his hand. His father. Rosa. Isabella. And a newborn baby wrapped in a hospital blanket. Isabella was the woman Luca had loved before he was forced to take over the family empire. She had died of a sudden, tragic illness five years ago. He had been told she was alone. He had been told there was no child. Now, his father’s handwriting stared back at him from the back of the photograph. Luca dropped the photo onto the table and unfolded the brittle letter. His hands, which I had seen dismantle rival syndicates without a tremor, were shaking violently. “Luca, don’t,” Vanessa pleaded, her voice cracking. “Rosa is sick. She forged that. She hates me!” Luca didn’t hear her. He read the letter aloud. His voice started soft, but with every word, the dangerous, terrifying authority of the mafia boss bled back into his tone. “My son. If you are reading this, I am dead. And if I am dead, the Bellini family killed me.” A collective gasp echoed across the dining room. Several of Vanessa’s relatives shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Luca kept reading, his eyes burning into the ink. “Isabella didn’t die of an illness. Vanessa’s father poisoned her. But she survived just long enough to deliver your son. I found the boy. I tried to bring him to you, but they cornered me. I am leaving this box with Rosa. Trust no one else.” Luca stopped reading. The paper crumpled in his massive fist. He had a son. For five years, he had been mourning a woman, completely unaware that a piece of her—of him—was walking this earth. He slowly raised his head and looked at Vanessa. “Where is my son?” Vanessa stepped back, her satin gown brushing against the fine china. “I don’t know what that letter is! Your father was paranoid at the end!” “Where is he?” Luca roared. The crystal chandeliers seemed to vibrate with the force of his voice. Rosa stepped forward, leaning heavily on my arm. “Look inside the watch, Luciano,” she whispered. Luca reached into the wooden box and pulled out the heavy silver pocket watch. It was scratched and dented. He clicked the latch. The lid popped open. The glass face was shattered. The clock hands were permanently frozen at 11:42. The exact time Antonio Moretti’s body had been found in his study five years ago. But it wasn’t the time that made Luca stop breathing. It was what was tucked inside the broken casing. Luca pulled it out and held it up to the light. It was a single, flawless diamond earring, stained with dried blood. Every eye in the room moved from the earring to Vanessa. Or, more specifically, to Vanessa’s left ear. She wore a stunning diamond necklace tonight, but she never wore earrings. She always told the society papers she had an allergy to the metal. But I was the maid who cleaned her vanity. I had seen the single, orphaned diamond earring sitting in the back of her velvet jewelry drawer. She had lost its match years ago. Vanessa’s hand flew to her ear, a gesture of pure, guilty reflex. “You were in the study the night my father was murdered,” Luca said. The ice in his voice was terrifying. “I tried to stop them!” Vanessa screamed, tears finally spilling over her mascara. “I swear to God, Luca! My father did it! He wanted the boy to control the bloodline! I tried to save Antonio!” Luca took a step toward her. Before he could reach her, the heavy oak doors of the dining room swung open. A deep, gravelly voice echoed from the foyer. “She is lying, Luca. She didn’t try to save anyone.” We all turned. Standing in the doorway was Don Bellini, Vanessa’s father. He was surrounded by four men in tailored suits, all holding suppressed weapons. But that wasn’t what made my heart stop. Holding Don Bellini’s hand was a five-year-old boy with dark, curling hair and eyes the exact color of Luca’s.
