Chapter 3 - THE CHILD’S DRAWING
The little boy wore a miniature gray suit that looked slightly too big for him. He clutched a small, crumpled piece of paper to his chest like a shield. His dark eyes darted around the opulent dining room, terrified of the lights, the strangers, and the weapons. When Luca saw the boy, the entire world seemed to stop spinning. The ruthless crime boss, the man who controlled half the city, dropped the silver pocket watch. It clattered against the marble floor. Luca took a step forward, his breath catching in his throat. “Matteo?” he whispered. The boy flinched, shrinking behind Don Bellini’s heavy cashmere overcoat. Bellini smiled. It was a cold, reptilian expression. “He has your eyes, Luca,” Bellini said, casually resting his hand on the boy’s head. “And his mother’s stubbornness. It took years to break him of crying for her.” Luca drew his gun so fast I didn’t even see his hand move. He pointed it directly between Bellini’s eyes. “Take your hand off my son.” Bellini’s four men instantly raised their weapons, aiming at Luca. The dinner guests screamed. Chairs tipped over as the wealthy elite scrambled underneath the table, expensive dresses and tailored suits ruining themselves on spilled champagne. I pulled Rosa behind me, shielding her fragile body with my own. “Shoot me, and my men kill the boy,” Bellini said calmly. Luca’s finger tightened on the trigger, but he froze. For the first time in his life, he was completely powerless. “What do you want?” Luca demanded, his voice shaking with a terrifying, suppressed rage. “I want the marriage to proceed,” Bellini said. “Tonight. The priest is waiting in the library. You will marry my daughter, and you will sign the shipping port contracts over to the Bellini family. In exchange, you get to play father to the bastard.” Vanessa wiped her tears, stepping toward her father. “Papa, you said we would wait until after the honeymoon to present the boy!” Bellini looked at his daughter with absolute disgust. “You got sloppy, Vanessa. You let the old woman out of her room.” He pointed at Rosa. “I told you to kill her three weeks ago when she arrived with the box. But you were too weak. Now I have to clean up your mess.” Luca looked at Vanessa, the betrayal fully setting in. “You knew he had my son.” “I kept him alive!” Vanessa cried out. “If I hadn’t agreed to marry you, my father would have drowned him in the river five years ago!” It was a brilliant lie. It almost worked. I saw Luca’s eyes soften for a fraction of a second, the desperate hope of a father wanting to believe someone had protected his child. But then, Matteo moved. The little boy slipped out from behind Bellini. He didn’t run to his grandfather. He didn’t run to Luca. He ran straight toward me. Before anyone could react, Matteo hid behind my black maid’s apron, trembling violently. He shoved the crumpled piece of paper into my hands. I looked down at the drawing. It was done in blue crayon. It showed a woman with bright red hair—Vanessa’s exact hair color. She was locking a small, dark-haired boy behind a heavy iron door with a strange, circular window. I knew that door. Everyone on the staff knew that door. It was the door to the old, abandoned wine cellar in the sub-basement of this very mansion. I looked at the date scrawled in the corner by a child’s hand. Yesterday. “He wasn’t in an orphanage,” I whispered, the horror rising in my throat. I looked up at Luca, holding the drawing out. “Mr. Moretti… she’s been keeping him in your own basement.”
