Chapter 2 - THE ENVELOPE IN THE CARPENTER’S POCKET
Luca didn’t raise his voice. He didn't have to. The terrifying stillness of his posture commanded the entire room.
“Answer me, Vanessa,” Luca said, his words dropping like stones into the dead silence of the dining room. “Did you orchestrate this dinner just to break an old man’s heart?”
Vanessa’s confidence finally cracked. She took a step back, her red satin gown swishing loudly against the hardwood floor.
“Luca, please,” she stammered, looking around at the guests who were now staring at her with open disgust. “It wasn't like that. I was trying to manage the household! Emily is a wonderful maid, but she is distracted. She’s always rushing home to check on her father. I just wanted her focused on her duties here.”
“By convincing him I was moving away?” I asked, my voice shaking with a sudden, hot anger that burned through my tears. “By telling a father that his daughter was ashamed of him and wanted him out of her life?”
“It was for your own good!” Vanessa snapped, her patience snapping. “You are twenty-seven, Emily! You live your life revolving around a man who can barely afford to fix his own roof. I was doing you a favor. I was cutting the cord!”
The audacity of her words hung in the air, toxic and heavy.
Luca turned fully toward her. “You don't get to decide what is good for the people in my home, Vanessa. You don't get to manage their families. And you certainly don't get to use my name to do it.”
Vanessa’s father, a wealthy real estate developer sitting near the middle of the table, suddenly stood up.
“Now wait just a minute, Luca,” Mr. Bellini said, his voice booming. “My daughter made a misjudgment in household management. It’s hardly a reason to humiliate her and break an engagement in front of half the city.”
“She didn't make a misjudgment, Richard,” Teresa Moretti said softly from the head of the table. Her voice was gentle, but the steel underneath was undeniable. “She made a choice to be cruel. And in this family, we do not tolerate cruelty to the people who care for us.”
Mr. Bellini’s face flushed. “You’re choosing the hired help over us?”
“I’m choosing decency,” Luca answered, his dark eyes fixed on Vanessa. “Pack your things. I want you out of this house tonight.”
Vanessa let out a small, choked gasp. She looked at her father, then back at Luca, her eyes wide with panic. “Luca, you can't be serious. We sign the merger documents for our families’ companies on Monday. If you break this engagement, my father will pull out of the deal. You’ll lose millions.”
Luca didn't even blink. “Keep the money, Richard. Take your daughter and leave.”
Vanessa’s face crumpled. She looked around the room, realizing that not a single guest was going to defend her. She grabbed her small clutch purse from the table and practically ran from the dining room, her father following closely behind her, shouting curses under his breath.
The heavy mahogany doors closed behind them.
The immediate threat was gone, but the damage hung heavy in the air.
I looked down at my father. He was still sitting in the chair Luca had offered him, clutching his worn handkerchief, his chest heaving with silent, residual sobs.
“Dad,” I whispered, kneeling beside him and taking his rough hands in mine. “I am so sorry. I am so sorry she put you through that.”
He shook his head, wiping his eyes. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay. I’m just… I’m just so glad you’re not leaving.”
“I’m never leaving you,” I promised, kissing his knuckles.
Luca walked over and crouched down beside us. The intimidating mafia boss looked entirely undone by my father’s quiet dignity.
“Mr. Carter,” Luca said softly. “I apologize for what happened tonight. I promise you, neither you nor your daughter will ever be treated with such disrespect in my presence again.”
Dad looked at Luca, his eyes shining with profound gratitude. “Thank you, Mr. Moretti. You’re a good man.”
Luca smiled faintly, though his eyes looked haunted. “I try to be.”
Teresa Moretti stood up and gently tapped her wine glass with a silver spoon. “If our guests would excuse us, I believe this dinner has come to an end. Please, enjoy the rest of the evening at your leisure, but Luca and I have some family matters to attend to.”
The guests murmured politely and began to filter out of the dining room, retreating to the parlor and the gardens.
Soon, it was just me, my dad, Luca, and Teresa.
“Let’s get you something to eat, Robert,” Teresa smiled, offering her hand to my father. “You’ve had a very long evening, and I suspect you haven't eaten a bite.”
Dad smiled nervously, taking her hand and standing up. “Thank you, Teresa. I am a bit hungry.”
As they walked toward the kitchen, my father reached into his suit jacket pocket to put away his handkerchief.
But as he pulled his hand out, something else slipped from his pocket and fluttered to the floor.
I leaned down and picked it up.
It was a thick, cream-colored envelope, sealed with red wax.
But the wax wasn't stamped with the Bellini family crest.
It was stamped with a deeply detailed, old-fashioned compass.
I frowned, turning the envelope over. “Dad? What is this?”
My father stopped and looked back. His face drained of all color.
“Oh,” Dad whispered, patting his empty pocket frantically. “That… that’s nothing, sweetheart. Just some old mail I forgot to take out of the suit.”
But Luca was staring at the envelope in my hand. His entire body had gone rigid.
“Emily,” Luca said, his voice dropping into a terrifyingly low register. “Let me see that.”
I handed the envelope to him, confused.
Luca stared at the red wax seal, his dark eyes wide with shock. “Mr. Carter… where did you get this?”
My father swallowed hard, taking a step backward. “I told you, it’s just old mail. From years ago.”
“This isn't old mail,” Luca said, his voice trembling slightly. “This is the seal of the Rossi family. The syndicate that murdered my father twenty years ago.”
The air in the dining room turned to ice.
May you like
Luca looked up from the envelope, staring directly at my sixty-three-year-old father, the retired carpenter who had just spent the evening apologizing for his worn-out shoes.
“Robert,” Luca said, stepping forward. “Why are you carrying a message from the men who killed my father?”
