Chapter 3 - THE RIVER'S EDGE
The dining room descended into absolute chaos.
“You threw it in the river?” Adrian asked, his voice dangerously low. He turned toward his fiancée, the woman he was supposed to marry in three months. “Vanessa. You didn't even know me seven years ago. We met three years ago in Milan.”
Vanessa backed away, clutching the silver locket to her chest. “Adrian, it’s not what you think. She’s lying. She bought a replica to trick you!”
“It has Elena’s initials engraved on the back,” I said coldly. “E.M. Go ahead and look.”
Vanessa didn't look. She didn't have to. She knew exactly what was on the back of that locket.
“You knew my father before we met,” Adrian realized, stepping toward her. The heartbreak in his eyes was rapidly being replaced by the cold, calculating glare of a mob boss. “You were working for him.”
“He hired me to clean up the mess!” Vanessa screamed, the polished socialite facade completely crumbling. “Elena didn't just walk away, Adrian! She was going to go to the press! She was going to tell the whole city that the great Dominic Moretti abandoned his own flesh and blood. Your father paid me to intercept her.”
I felt sick to my stomach. “You were the one who put her on that bus.”
“I did what I was paid to do!” Vanessa snapped, looking at Adrian with desperate eyes. “I protected your legacy, Adrian. I protected this family’s reputation. When your father got sick, he brought me back. He arranged our meeting in Milan. He wanted you to marry someone who understood what it takes to run this empire.”
Adrian looked at her with pure disgust. “My father arranged our relationship. And you helped him banish my son.”
He turned back to me. “Claire. If Dad didn't give the boy to you, who did he give him to?”
I looked across the table at Cousin Robert. Robert had been silent, but his hands were gripping the back of his chair so tightly his knuckles were white.
“Tell him, Robert,” I said softly.
Robert swallowed hard. “Dominic didn't give him to strangers, Adrian. He gave him to people he could control. The people whose silence he bought with the cottages on the estate.”
Adrian’s eyes widened. “The retired employees. The ones Claire gave up her inheritance to protect.”
“Yes,” Robert said. “Margaret, the old estate nurse. She’s been raising him in Cottage Number Three.”
Adrian didn't wait another second. He turned on his heel and sprinted out of the dining room.
I hiked up my navy dress and ran after him. The heavy wooden front doors of the mansion banged open as we rushed out into the cold night air. The three cottages sat on the far edge of the estate, past the sprawling gardens and the old iron gates.
We ran through the dark, our breath pluming in the cold air. Adrian’s face was a mask of desperate hope. He was going to see his son. A boy who would be almost nine years old now.
We reached Cottage Number Three. The lights were on. Smoke curled from the chimney.
Adrian didn't knock. He threw the door open.
“Margaret!” Adrian shouted.
The small living room was warm, smelling of cinnamon and woodsmoke. But it was completely silent.
I walked past Adrian into the small kitchen. A pot of water was boiling on the stove. Two bowls sat on the table. But the cottage was empty.
Then, I saw it.
Pinned to the refrigerator with a simple magnet was a child’s drawing. It was a crude, crayon picture of a dark-haired man holding hands with a little boy.
Adrian walked up behind me. He reached out with a trembling hand and touched the drawing. At the bottom, written in messy, uneven letters, were the words: Me and my Dad.
Suddenly, the floorboards creaked behind us.
We spun around.
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Standing in the doorway was Mrs. Bennett, our elderly housekeeper. She was holding a heavy, black revolver. And it was pointed directly at Adrian’s chest.
“I’m sorry, Adrian,” Mrs. Bennett whispered, tears streaming down her wrinkled face. “But Dominic made me promise. The boy can never inherit.”
