Chapter 2 - THE SILVER POCKET WATCH IN THE SERVICE HALLWAY
“And right now, Vanessa, I’m trying to understand why the only people you didn’t want at our engagement dinner are the people who knew me before I had anything worth marrying.”
The silence that followed Luca’s words was absolute. You could hear the rain lashing against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the dining room. At the table, twenty-eight wealthy, influential guests stared at their plates. None of them dared to breathe. Vanessa’s face went from pale to a flushed, angry red. “Luca,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of embarrassment and fury. “You are making a scene in front of the governor’s chief of staff.” Luca didn’t even glance at the politician. He kept his eyes locked on Vanessa. “Daniel,” Luca said, his voice deadly calm. “Bring my family upstairs.” “Right away, boss.” Daniel turned on his heel and disappeared into the corridor. Vanessa’s hands gripped the edge of the mahogany table. Her diamond engagement ring caught the chandelier light, flashing a brilliant, expensive warning. “They aren’t dressed for this,” she hissed, leaning in so the guests wouldn’t hear. “They’re going to be humiliated, Luca. I was saving them from feeling out of place.” Teresa Romano, sitting quietly beside Luca, closed her eyes. Her hands were folded tightly in her lap over her navy department-store dress. “I can leave, Luciano,” she whispered. “She’s right. Look at this room.” Luca reached down and covered his aunt’s wrinkled hands with his own. “You stay exactly where you are,” he said softly. Then, heavy footsteps echoed from the marble hallway. Everyone turned. Daniel walked back into the dining room. Behind him came Uncle Michael. He was sixty-five, a retired bricklayer with broad, heavy shoulders and hands rough from a lifetime of hard labor. He wore a brown corduroy suit that had likely been out of fashion for twenty years. Beside him was Mrs. DeLuca, leaning on a wooden cane, clutching her purse to her chest. And Mr. Caruso, wearing a faded fedora he immediately took off out of respect. But they weren’t alone. Holding tight to Uncle Michael’s massive, calloused hand was a little boy. He looked about six years old. He wore a pair of oversized khaki pants and a hand-me-down blue sweater that swallowed his small frame. His dark hair was messy. His big brown eyes were wide with terror as he stared at the crystal, the silk, and the sea of wealthy strangers. His name was Leo. He was the orphaned grandson of Luca’s late cousin. Luca had been quietly paying for the boy’s care for the last three years, keeping him safe in Michael’s modest home. Vanessa let out a sharp, audible gasp. “You brought the child?” she snapped, forgetting to keep her voice down. Michael stopped at the edge of the dining room. He looked at Vanessa. Then at Luca. “I didn’t have a sitter, Luca,” Michael said, his voice thick with a heavy Chicago accent. “Vanessa told me this afternoon that Leo wasn’t welcome in the main house. So we sat downstairs. We didn’t want to ruin your night.” Luca’s jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth would shatter. He looked at Vanessa. “You told him a six-year-old child wasn’t welcome in my house?” “He’s a boy, Luca!” Vanessa defended, her voice rising. “This is a formal, catered, five-course dinner! It’s no place for a child!” Little Leo shrank behind Michael’s leg. My heart broke for him. I knew what it felt like to be a child in a room where adults made it clear you were a burden. I stepped forward without thinking. “Mr. Moretti,” I said softly. “I can set a place for Leo. Right next to you.” Vanessa whipped her head toward me. “You will do no such thing, Emma! Get back to the kitchen!” “Emma.” Luca’s voice cut through the room like a steel blade. He looked at me. “Set four places.” I nodded and immediately moved to the sideboard to grab the fine china. Michael walked slowly toward the table, keeping Leo close. He didn’t look intimidated by the billionaires. He looked exhausted. “Luca,” Michael said, stopping beside his nephew. “I didn’t come to eat. I came because I had to give you something.” Vanessa stepped forward, her eyes suddenly panicked. “Michael, not now. The dinner is starting.” Michael ignored her. He reached into the deep pocket of his corduroy jacket. His large, rough hand emerged holding a silver pocket watch. It was heavily tarnished, attached to a broken silver chain. The moment Luca saw it, his breath hitched. I paused with the plates in my hands. Luca reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as he took the watch. “My father’s,” Luca whispered. “He lost it the night the business went under,” Michael said quietly. “Twenty-five years ago.” Luca looked up. “Where did you find this?” Michael glanced at Vanessa. His eyes were hard. “I didn’t find it, Luca. She tried to buy it from me this morning.” The entire dining room inhaled sharply. Vanessa’s face drained of all color. “That’s a lie!” she cried. “She came to my house at eight a.m.,” Michael continued, his voice steady. “She offered me fifty thousand dollars for it. Told me you wanted it as a wedding gift, but she wanted it to be a surprise.” Luca stared at his fiancée. “If it was a surprise for me, why did you refuse her, Michael?” Michael looked deeply at his nephew. “Because when I opened the back casing to clean it for her…” Michael reached over and pressed the small latch on the side of the watch. The silver back popped open. Inside, folded into a tiny, perfect square, was a faded piece of paper. “I found a pawn receipt inside,” Michael said. Luca carefully unfolded the paper. His eyes scanned the faded ink. When he looked up, the expression on his face was terrifying. It was the face of the man who ran the Chicago underworld. “This receipt,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a whisper that echoed in the dead silent room. “Is signed by Marcus Bellini. Your father.” Vanessa stepped back. “Luca, please—” “My father didn’t lose this watch,” Luca said, advancing one step. “Your father stole it from him the night he forced my family into bankruptcy.” Vanessa shook her head rapidly. “That was business, Luca! It was twenty-five years ago!” “You knew,” Luca said. “You knew my father died a broken man because of your family. And you tried to buy the evidence from my uncle this morning to hide it from me before we got married.” Vanessa’s eyes darted wildly around the room. She needed a distraction. She needed an out. And she found one in the terrified six-year-old boy standing by the table. “You want to talk about secrets, Luca?” Vanessa sneered, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at little Leo. “Ask your saint of an uncle why he really brought that boy here tonight.”
