Chapter 4 - THE CHILD’S DRAWING ON THE BACK OF THE MENU
The dining room descended into a suffocating silence. Luca stared at the six-year-old boy. Elena. Luca’s younger sister. She had been the light of the Moretti family, killed in a horrific highway pileup when she was only twenty-one. Or so everyone had been told. Luca’s chest rose and fell in slow, heavy movements. He looked at Michael. “My sister died in a crash on Interstate 90,” Luca said. His voice was hollow, stripped of its usual authority. “I saw the wreckage. I buried the closed casket.” Teresa Romano stepped forward, her sensible black shoes making no sound on the Persian rug. She reached out and placed a trembling hand on Luca’s arm. “The casket was empty, Luciano,” Teresa whispered, tears spilling over her wrinkled cheeks. Luca flinched as if he had been struck. “What?” “Elena survived the crash,” Michael said, his voice breaking. “But she was pregnant. Unmarried. And your father… your father was a proud, ruthless man, Luca. He told her she was dead to the family. He staged the funeral to hide the shame.” The wealthy guests at the table were completely still. This wasn’t just a scandal anymore. It was a tragedy. “Elena came to me,” Michael continued. “She hid in my basement. She gave birth to Leo. But her heart was damaged from the accident. She passed away three days later. I swore on her deathbed I would protect the boy from your father.” Luca looked down at Leo. The little boy looked up at him. They had the same dark, intelligent eyes. The same strong line of the jaw. He wasn’t a distant cousin. He was Luca’s nephew. His blood. Luca slowly dropped to one knee. He didn’t care about his bespoke suit. He didn’t care about the twenty-eight billionaires watching him. He looked directly into Leo’s terrified brown eyes. “You’re Elena’s boy,” Luca whispered. Leo sniffled, clutching his faded blue sweater. “Uncle Mike says my mommy is an angel now.” Luca’s throat worked as he swallowed back a wave of grief. “She is,” Luca said softly. He reached out, his large hand trembling, and gently wiped a tear from the boy’s cheek. “And you belong here. With me.” Vanessa scoffed loudly, shattering the fragile moment. “Oh, please!” she snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “You’re going to take in a bastard child, Luca? Do you have any idea what this will do to our public image?” Luca stood up slowly. The tenderness he had shown Leo vanished completely. When he looked at Vanessa, his eyes were pure ice. “There is no ‘our’ public image, Vanessa,” Luca said. “The engagement is over.” The words hit the room like a gunshot. The governor’s chief of staff shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Vanessa’s jaw dropped. “You’re joking.” “I have never been more serious,” Luca said, stepping toward her. “You tried to steal my father’s watch. You hired an actor to terrorize my uncle. You tried to exile my sister’s child to a boarding school because he didn’t fit your aesthetic. Get out of my house.” Vanessa’s shock morphed into a desperate, ugly rage. “You can’t do this to me!” she screamed. “I just did.” “My father will ruin you!” Luca laughed. A dark, humorless sound. “Your father is a parasite. And tomorrow morning, I will personally ensure his company is dismantled piece by piece.” Vanessa stared at him, breathing heavily. She realized she had lost. But a cornered animal is always the most dangerous. She reached into her designer purse again. Her hand was shaking as she pulled out a heavily folded document. “You think you hold all the cards, Luca?” she spat. She slammed the document onto the edge of the dining table. It knocked over a crystal wine glass, spilling red wine across the white linen like a fresh wound. “You kick me out tonight,” Vanessa said, her voice dripping with venom, “and your precious Aunt Teresa loses her bakery tomorrow morning.” Teresa gasped, stepping back. “My bakery? I own my building free and clear!” Vanessa smiled. It was a cruel, shark-like smile. “You own the building, Teresa. But you don’t own the land underneath it.” She tapped the document on the table. “My father’s holding company bought the commercial lease on that entire block of the South Side two weeks ago. You have a balloon payment of three hundred thousand dollars due tomorrow by 5:00 PM. If you don’t pay it, the bulldozers are scheduled for Monday.” Teresa’s legs gave out. I lunged forward, catching her by the arm before she hit the floor. I helped her into the nearest chair. Her face was chalk-white. That bakery was her entire life. It was the only piece of her history she had left. Luca stared at the eviction notice on the table. He was a multi-millionaire. He could pay the three hundred thousand dollars in his sleep. And Vanessa knew it. “Go ahead, Luca,” Vanessa taunted. “Write the check. Pay me. That’s what you do, right? You throw money at your pathetic relatives to keep them clinging to you.” Suddenly, little Leo stepped forward. He wasn’t hiding behind Uncle Michael anymore. He walked right up to the mahogany table. He reached into the front pocket of his oversized khaki pants. “I have money,” Leo said bravely. He pulled out a crumpled, folded piece of paper and held it up to Vanessa. “You can have my drawing. It’s worth a hundred dollars. Uncle Mike said so.” The innocent gesture broke my heart. Vanessa sneered, slapping the child’s hand away. “Get away from me, you little brat!” The piece of paper fluttered to the ground, landing face down in the spilled red wine. Luca moved so fast it was a blur. He stepped between Vanessa and Leo, shielding the boy completely. “If you ever raise a hand to him again,” Luca whispered, “I will forget that I am a civilized man.” I knelt down to pick up Leo’s drawing from the floor. The red wine had soaked the edges, but the crayon drawing in the center was still visible. I turned it over. It was a drawing of a woman holding a baby. But it wasn’t drawn on a blank piece of paper. Leo had drawn it on the back of a stiff, heavy piece of parchment. I looked closer. There was elegant, faded calligraphy printed underneath the crayon marks. My breath caught in my throat. “Mr. Moretti,” I said, standing up quickly. I held the wine-stained drawing out to him. “I think you need to look at this.” Luca took the paper from me. He frowned, looking at the crayon drawing of the mother and child. Then he looked at the calligraphy underneath it. His eyes widened. “Leo,” Luca said, his voice trembling. “Where did you get this piece of paper?” Leo pointed to Uncle Michael. “It was in the wooden box with the beads. I used it to draw Mommy.” Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. What is it? A preschool diploma?” Luca slowly lifted his eyes to Vanessa. A terrifying, triumphant smile spread across his face. “No, Vanessa,” Luca said softly. “It’s a bearer bond.”
