Chapter 3 - THE HOSPITAL BRACELET
“Wait.” The word left my mouth before I could stop it. Thirty-eight guests stared at me. A twenty-five-year-old housekeeper who had just interrupted a mafia boss. Luca paused in the doorway. He turned, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “What is it, Claire?” I didn't answer immediately. I stepped away from Rosa, my legs trembling, and walked directly toward the head table. Vanessa’s purse sat overturned on the white linen, spilled open from when Daniel had restrained her. I reached out and pulled the pale blue hospital bracelet from the silk lining. “Where did you get this?” I demanded, looking directly at Vanessa. Vanessa sneered, her mask of elegance completely shattered. “Don't touch my things, you little rat.” Luca walked back to the table. He took the blue plastic band from my shaking hand. He read the barcode label. “Chicago General Hospital,” Luca read aloud. “Visitor Pass. Issued October 1st.” He looked at me. “That’s the day Frank died. Why does this matter to you, Claire?” Tears burned the back of my eyes. “Because October 1st is the day my younger brother, Tommy, was brought to Chicago General after his motorcycle accident,” I said, my voice cracking. The room grew impossibly quiet. “Tommy was hit by a black SUV that ran a red light and sped off,” I explained, looking at Luca. “He nearly died. The only person who saw the SUV was a young nursing student who had been walking home. Her name was Mia.” I pointed a trembling finger at Vanessa. “Mia came to the hospital to give the police her statement. She sat with me in the waiting room. She was wearing a pale blue visitor’s bracelet exactly like this one. She went to the cafeteria for coffee and never came back.” Luca’s jaw clenched so tight the muscle leaped under his skin. He looked at the hospital bracelet. Then at Matteo. “Matteo,” Luca said softly. “The girl in the trunk. What was she wearing?” Matteo looked sick. “Scrubs,” he whispered. “Blue nursing scrubs.” My breath caught in my throat. Vanessa hadn't just murdered Frank. She had run my younger brother off the road, and she had kidnapped the only witness who could identify her vehicle. “Why, Vanessa?” Luca asked. “Why would you run down a mechanic from the South Side?” Vanessa’s eyes darted frantically toward the exit, but Daniel’s massive frame blocked the door. She lifted her chin, trying to summon the last of her arrogance. “Because the little mechanic was sticking his nose where it didn't belong,” Vanessa spat. “Tommy worked at the auto shop that serviced your fleet, Luca. He noticed the GPS trackers my father had quietly installed on your shipping trucks. He was going to tell you.” The revelation hit the room like a physical blow. Vanessa wasn't just a cruel fiancée. She was a corporate spy for her father’s rival syndicate. She had hit Tommy to silence him. She had kidnapped Mia because the girl saw her SUV. And she had killed Frank because he caught her hiding Mia’s body in the Moretti garage. Luca didn't shout. He didn't pull a weapon. He simply placed the blue hospital bracelet gently on the table. “Daniel,” Luca said quietly. “Bring the Lincoln around to the front driveway.” Five minutes later, the entire engagement party was standing on the front steps of the Moretti estate in the freezing Chicago night air. The rain was coming down in sheets. Daniel drove the black Lincoln out of the underground garage, parking it under the massive stone portico. The engine idled with a low rumble. Luca walked down the steps. Vanessa was held firmly between two guards, forced to watch. Rosa stood beside me on the marble steps, gripping my hand so tightly my fingers went numb. Luca reached the back of the Lincoln. He placed his hand on the cold metal of the trunk. He hesitated. For a man who had seen violence his entire life, opening a trunk he believed contained a murdered innocent girl was clearly taking a toll on his soul. He pressed the release button. The trunk popped open with a heavy clack. Luca lifted the lid. We all held our breath, waiting for the smell of death. Waiting for the gruesome discovery. But Luca just stood there. He stared into the dark space of the trunk, the rain soaking his expensive suit. Slowly, he turned around to face Vanessa. “You really are a fool, Vanessa,” Luca said, his voice carrying over the rain. Vanessa frowned, struggling against the guards. “What are you talking about?” “The trunk is empty,” Luca said. A shockwave went through the crowd. I let out a gasp of hope. Mia wasn't in the car. Vanessa’s face went completely pale. “No,” she whispered. “That’s impossible. I locked her in there myself! She was unconscious!” Matteo stepped forward, squinting into the rain. “I saw you lock it too,” Matteo said, bewildered. Luca reached his hand into the empty trunk. When he pulled it out, he was holding something small and bright red. It wasn't a piece of clothing. It was a child’s crayon drawing. It had been folded in half, left deliberately on the trunk floor. Luca unfolded the paper. His dark eyes scanned the drawing, and the expression on his face shifted from cold anger to absolute, earth-shattering shock. He looked up, scanning the crowd of guests, until his eyes locked onto a man standing near the back of the group. “Marcus,” Luca called out. Marcus Bellini, Vanessa’s father, stepped out of the shadows. He was a tall, silver-haired man wearing an expensive cashmere overcoat. “What is this, Luca?” Marcus demanded, pretending to be outraged. “You accuse my daughter of murder based on the word of a senile widow and a maid?” Luca didn't argue. He simply held up the child’s drawing in the rain. “Recognize this, Marcus?” Luca asked softly. Marcus stared at the drawing. The color completely drained from the older mafia boss’s face. Because written across the top of the crayon drawing, in a child’s clumsy handwriting, were three words: To Daddy Marcus. And the drawing wasn't of a happy family. It was a detailed, childish drawing of a man in a cashmere coat, burying a heavy metal lockbox in a garden. “Where did you find that?” Marcus whispered, his voice trembling. “The better question,” Luca said, “is who left it in the trunk for me to find.” And from the shadows of the stone pillars, a small, trembling voice answered. “I did.” We all turned. Standing in the rain, clutching a torn velvet coat around her shivering shoulders, was a little girl. She couldn't have been older than six. And she looked exactly like Vanessa.
