Chapter 3 - THE TRAIN TICKET
My shoulder throbbed, but the pain faded beneath the weight of what I was holding.
Leo Moretti.
Luca’s younger brother. The boy who had perished in the same house fire that had ravaged the Moretti family estate months after the robbery. It was the tragedy that finally killed his mother from a broken heart.
"Mr. Moretti," I whispered, handing the ticket back. "This ticket is dated from three days ago."
Luca’s dark eyes locked onto the small piece of paper. "Leo died when he was four years old. I saw the ashes. My father saw the ashes."
"Then why is Vanessa buying a train ticket in his name?" Mrs. Carter asked. She was leaning heavily on her cane, her face pale from the near-miss with the decanter.
Luca stood up, slipping the ticket into his suit pocket. "Emma, take Mrs. Carter to a guest suite. Call my private physician to check her over. And have him look at your shoulder."
"I'm fine, sir," I insisted, though my uniform was soaked in wine and my arm was shaking.
"That wasn't a request," Luca said. The authority in his voice left no room for argument. But as I turned to guide Mrs. Carter away, he gently caught my uninjured arm. "Thank you. For stepping in front of her."
I nodded, my heart beating a little faster. "She fed you, sir. She's family."
Thirty minutes later, I left Mrs. Carter resting comfortably in a luxurious guest suite. The doctor had bandaged my bruised shoulder, gave me a clean uniform, and told me to take the night off.
But I couldn't go home. Not yet.
If Vanessa had been hiding a secret this massive, there had to be more evidence in her quarters.
I took my master housekeeping key and slipped down the silent hallway of the east wing. The two guards were stationed at the front of Vanessa’s suite, but they knew me.
"I need to clean up the spilled wine in the sitting room," I lied, holding up a fresh towel.
The guards exchanged a look, then unlocked the door. "Five minutes, Emma. The boss wants her isolated."
I slipped inside. Vanessa was pacing the far bedroom, screaming into her cell phone. I crept into her private study, pulling the heavy door shut behind me.
The room was immaculate, but I knew where people hid things. I didn't check the desk or the safe. I checked the lining of her expensive leather travel trunks.
I ran my fingers along the velvet interior of a Louis Vuitton trunk until I felt a hard lump beneath the fabric. I pulled a small penknife from my apron and carefully popped the seam.
A folded piece of paper slid out.
It wasn't a bank statement. It was a child’s drawing.
Crayon on heavy construction paper. A picture of a tall, dark-haired man holding the hand of a little boy. Written in the corner, in messy, childlike handwriting, were the words: To Uncle Luca. I miss you. - Leo.
My breath caught.
A child. Vanessa wasn't hiding a grown man. She was hiding a child named Leo. But how? Luca’s brother died twenty years ago.
Unless... the child wasn't his brother.
I flipped the drawing over. On the back, stamped in official blue ink, was a medical clinic's seal: Bellini Private Maternity Ward. Date of Birth: August 14, 2020.
Six years ago.
"What are you doing in my study?"
I spun around. Vanessa stood in the doorway, her phone clutched in her hand, her eyes burning with pure malice.
Before I could hide the drawing, she saw it.
"You nosy little rat," Vanessa hissed, locking the study door behind her.
"Who is this child?" I asked, holding the drawing up, refusing to back down. "Why did you name him Leo Moretti?"
Vanessa laughed, a cold, hollow sound. "Because he is a Moretti. But he’s not a brother. He’s a son."
My blood ran cold. "Luca doesn't have a son."
"Luca doesn't know he has a son," Vanessa corrected, stepping closer. "Six years ago, before I ever secured this engagement, Luca had a brief affair with a waitress. A nobody. She got pregnant. My father found out."
She pulled a small, silver lighter from her pocket and flipped the lid open.
"My father paid the hospital to tell the girl her baby died in delivery. We took the boy. We named him Leo, after Luca's dead brother, just as a private joke. We’ve been keeping him in a private facility in Switzerland ever since."
"Why?" I gasped, sick to my stomach.
"Leverage," Vanessa smiled. "If Luca ever tried to break our engagement, or if he ever found out we stole his family’s money decades ago, we would use the boy to break him. And now, thanks to that miserable old lunch lady, my father is moving the boy tonight. Luca will never see him."
May you like
She lunged forward, trying to snatch the drawing from my hand to burn it.
But I was faster. I shoved the drawing into my apron, grabbed the heavy brass lamp from the desk, and swung it as hard as I could.
