Chapter 5 - THE HIDDEN COMPARTMENT
Luca stared at the shattered Rolex, the pieces of the puzzle violently snapping into place.
Vanessa hadn't been alone in the red Porsche that night. She was with Lorenzo Bianchi.
“Why was a Swiss rehabilitation doctor in a car with my fiancée, chasing my wife off a cliff?” Luca demanded, the terrifying reality of the conspiracy wrapping around his throat.
“Because Dr. Bianchi isn't just a physical therapist,” Marco said grimly, reading from a file he had just pulled from the mechanic’s office. “He’s a specialist in offshore medical trusts. He helps wealthy families move assets across borders by declaring beneficiaries medically incompetent.”
Luca’s eyes widened. “The trust fund. They were planning this before Elena even died.”
“They needed Elena out of the way,” I realized aloud. “Elena found the receipt from the private investigator. She knew Carlo was stealing. She probably figured out Vanessa and Lorenzo were planning to lock Sofia away to get the money.”
Luca slammed his fist onto the desk, splintering the polished wood.
“Bring Bianchi back here,” Luca roared. “Find him before he reaches the airport!”
As Marco rushed out to mobilize the men, Luca turned to his bookshelves, running his tattooed hands over his face. He looked utterly broken.
“She knew,” Luca whispered. “Elena knew they were coming for our daughter, and she died trying to protect her.”
I stepped closer, wanting to offer comfort, but knowing my place. “Sir, Sofia is safe now. You stopped them.”
“Did I?” Luca turned around, his eyes wild with grief. “They were inside my house, Emily. Eating my food. Planning my daughter’s funeral while smiling in my face. How could Elena not tell me?”
“Maybe she tried,” I suggested gently.
Luca stopped. He looked at the heavy oak bookshelf behind his desk.
“Elena always hid things when she was scared,” he murmured. He walked over to the shelf, reaching behind a set of leather-bound encyclopedias. I heard a soft click, and a small wooden panel slid open, revealing a hidden compartment.
Luca reached inside and pulled out a small velvet pouch.
He opened it, tipping the contents onto the desk.
It wasn't a document or a USB drive.
It was a delicate, intricately woven silver rosary.
I gasped, taking a step back. The air left my lungs completely.
May you like
“Emily?” Luca asked, noticing my shock. “What is it?”
I stared at the silver beads. “That... that’s my mother’s rosary.”
