THE SILENT WITNESS

“Dominic.”

The name slipped from my lips in a breathless whisper.

The silence that followed was so absolute, it felt as though the oxygen had been vacuumed from the dining room. Twenty-six elite guests stared at me, their faces pale in the flickering candlelight.

Dominic Moretti. Luca’s younger brother. The man who had supposedly been in Milan on business for the past six months.

Luca’s hand froze over his phone. His dark eyes locked onto mine, searching for any sign of hesitation or deceit. There was none. I was trembling, my black housemaid’s uniform suddenly feeling too tight around my chest, but I held his gaze.

“My brother,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, gravelly register. “My brother has been in Italy since July.”

I looked down at Mrs. Moretti. Her frail hands were shaking, but she met her son’s eyes and nodded once.

“He was in the car,” I translated, my voice barely steady. “She says Dominic was in the passenger seat when the brakes gave out. He grabbed the wheel.”

Vanessa let out a sharp, hysterical laugh. “This is a circus! Luca, are you actually listening to this girl? Your mother’s mind is broken. Dominic called you from Milan just yesterday!”

“He called from a secure line,” Luca murmured, mostly to himself. The realization seemed to cast a shadow over his sharp features. He turned to his security chief, a towering man named Marco. “Lock the gates. Nobody leaves. And pull the estate’s security logs from the night of the accident.”

Marco nodded and immediately stepped out of the room.

Vanessa’s perfectly manicured hands gripped the edge of the dining table. The color had drained completely from her face. “You’re making a mistake, darling. The guests—”

“The guests will stay seated,” Luca commanded without looking at them. His attention was solely on his mother. He crouched beside her wheelchair, his large, imposing frame suddenly looking vulnerable. “Mom. If Dominic was in the car... where did he go after the crash?”

Mrs. Moretti closed her eyes. A single tear slipped down her wrinkled cheek. Her fingers moved, slow and deliberate.

I watched her hands, my stomach twisting into a painful knot.

“She says...” I swallowed hard. “She says he walked away.”

Luca’s jaw clenched. The muscles in his neck tightened as the betrayal settled in. His own brother had been in a near-fatal accident with their mother, walked away from the wreckage, and pretended to be on another continent for three months.

Why?

Vanessa stepped forward, her silk evening gown rustling in the quiet room. “Luca, this is insane. Even if Dominic was there—which he wasn't—why wouldn't he tell you?”

“That is exactly what I intend to find out,” Luca said, standing up. He looked at me. “Claire. Bring my mother to the library. Do not let anyone else inside.”

“Yes, sir.” I gripped the handles of the wheelchair.

As I turned the chair toward the hallway, Vanessa blocked my path. Her eyes were wide, frantic, and filled with a venom she usually kept hidden behind her polished socialite smile.

“You think you’re so clever,” she hissed, her voice low enough that only I could hear. “You’re a maid. You wipe my floors. You have no idea what you’ve just stepped into.”

“Move, Vanessa,” Luca ordered.

Vanessa flinched, stepping aside.

I pushed Mrs. Moretti down the long, Persian-carpeted hallway toward the library. My heart hammered against my ribs. I needed the money for my sister’s surgery, yes. But looking down at the silver-haired woman in the wheelchair, I knew I couldn’t abandon her. She was a prisoner in her own home, surrounded by wolves.

Inside the library, the air smelled of old paper and leather. I parked Mrs. Moretti near the fireplace and knelt beside her.

“You’re safe here,” I whispered.

She reached out and squeezed my hand. Her fingers were cold. Then, she began to sign again.

Vanessa is lying.

“I know she’s lying about the care facility,” I said softly.

Mrs. Moretti shook her head frantically. Not just the facility. The necklace.

I frowned. “What necklace?”

She signed quickly, her desperation clear. My emerald necklace. The family heirloom. Vanessa said it was lost in the crash.

“It wasn't?”

Mrs. Moretti pointed toward a heavy oak desk in the corner of the library. It was Luca’s private desk.

Look in the bottom drawer, she signed.

I hesitated. Going through a mafia boss’s private desk was a good way to end up at the bottom of Lake Michigan. But the pleading look in Mrs. Moretti’s eyes gave me no choice.

I walked over to the desk and pulled the bottom drawer open. It was locked.

I looked back at her. She gestured toward a small bronze statue of a horse on the bookshelf. I lifted the statue. Beneath it was a small brass key.

My hands shook as I unlocked the drawer. Inside were stacks of financial documents, a spare phone, and a small, worn velvet box.

I opened the box.

Resting on the faded satin was a stunning, heavy emerald necklace. The stones were massive, catching the dim light of the library. But that wasn't what made my breath catch in my throat.

Tucked underneath the necklace was a folded European train ticket.

The name on the ticket was Vanessa Bellini. The destination was Milan. And the date was stamped for tomorrow morning.

Vanessa wasn't just sending Mrs. Moretti away. She was fleeing the country.

The heavy library door suddenly clicked shut behind me.

I spun around, dropping the velvet box onto the desk.

Standing in the shadows by the door was a man in a wet trench coat. He stepped into the light, pulling off his leather gloves. He looked exactly like Luca, only younger, with sharper, more reckless eyes.