Chapter 2 - THE SILVER WATCH
The silence in the dining room was absolute.
Thirty wealthy guests sat perfectly still in their tufted velvet chairs.
The crystal chandeliers cast a bright, unforgiving light across the table.
Luca Moretti did not raise his voice. He did not yell. He simply kept his dark eyes locked on the eviction notice in his hand.
“You used my name,” Luca said.
His voice was terrifyingly calm.
Vanessa’s face lost its color. She reached out to touch his arm, but Luca shifted his shoulder just enough to avoid her hand.
“Luca, darling, be reasonable,” Vanessa said, forcing a tight, nervous smile for the watching guests. “You gave me limited power of attorney to handle the estate’s minor assets while you focused on the merger. Caruso’s was operating at a loss. I was protecting your portfolio.”
“My portfolio,” Luca repeated.
He slowly placed the eviction notice on the table, right next to the plate of three homemade ravioli.
“You didn’t consult my financial director,” Luca said softly. “You didn’t consult me. You simply decided to destroy a woman who spent forty years feeding my family.”
Vanessa lifted her chin. She was a woman who hated to lose in public.
“I made a business decision,” she insisted. “Teresa’s lease expired three years ago. She has been paying a fraction of the market rate. I did what your father would have done.”
Luca’s expression hardened into something cold and unrecognizable.
“Do not ever speak for my father,” he said.
He stood up.
He turned his back on his fiancée and walked around the massive table until he reached Teresa Caruso.
The seventy-four-year-old woman was trembling. She clutched her worn brown coat, looking entirely out of place among the silk dresses and tailored tuxedos.
Luca gently placed his hands on her shoulders.
“Teresa,” he said, his voice instantly softening. “Go back to your restaurant. Open the doors tomorrow morning. Nobody is taking your building. Not tomorrow. Not ever.”
Teresa’s eyes filled with tears. She reached up and touched his cheek, her weathered fingers trembling against his skin.
“Thank you, my boy,” she whispered. “Antonio would be so proud of the man you are.”
I stood near the serving doors, holding my empty serving tray against my chest. My heart was pounding.
I had expected Luca Moretti to be exactly what the Chicago papers claimed he was: ruthless, distant, and obsessed with his bottom line.
Instead, I was watching a man tear his own engagement dinner apart to protect an elderly cook.
Vanessa stood up, her red silk gown rustling sharply.
“You cannot override a filed municipal redevelopment order, Luca!” she snapped, abandoning her sweet tone. “The demolition permits are already signed. The bulldozers are scheduled for Monday morning!”
Luca didn’t even look at her.
He gestured to his head of security, a tall man standing near the hallway.
“Marcus. Call the city planner. Cancel the permits. If he argues, tell him I’ll pull my funding for the downtown library project.”
“Yes, sir,” Marcus said, immediately stepping out of the room.
Teresa wiped her eyes with a tissue from her pocket. Then, she reached deep into her worn leather purse.
“Luca, wait,” Teresa said quietly. “There is another reason I came tonight.”
Luca turned his attention back to her.
Teresa pulled out a small, tarnished silver pocket watch.
It was old, dented along the side, and missing its chain.
“My husband found this wedged behind the baseboards in our back office last month when we were packing,” Teresa explained. “It has your father’s initials on the back. A.M.”
Luca took the watch.
His fingers brushed over the engraved letters. For a brief second, a heavy wave of grief washed over his sharp features.
“He lost this twenty years ago,” Luca murmured. “He tore the house apart looking for it.”
Vanessa took a step closer.
I saw her eyes lock onto the silver watch.
Suddenly, her confidence vanished. The anger in her face evaporated, replaced by a raw, unshielded panic.
“Luca,” Vanessa said, her voice shaking slightly. “Give that to me. I’ll have it cleaned and restored for you.”
She reached for the watch.
Luca pulled it back.
He looked at her, his eyes narrowing as he registered the sheer terror in her expression.
“Why are your hands shaking, Vanessa?” he asked.
“They aren’t,” she lied, taking a step back.
Luca didn’t argue. He simply pressed the small latch on the side of the pocket watch.
With a soft click, the silver lid popped open.
I expected to see a broken clock face or a faded photograph of Luca’s mother.
But there was no clock face at all. The inner mechanics had been entirely hollowed out.
Instead, tightly folded inside the silver casing, was a piece of aged, yellowed paper.
Luca pulled it out.
He unfolded the paper.
The dining room was so quiet I could hear the wax dripping from the candles.
Luca read the paper.
His jaw tightened. The muscles in his neck strained against his collar.
May you like
Slowly, he looked up at Vanessa.
“Answer one question for me,” Luca said, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper. “Why does my father’s watch contain a confession signed by your father?”
