Chapter 3 - A FADED TICKET IN THE POCKET
I stood frozen in Vanessa’s closet, staring at the dried, rust-colored stain on the watch band.
My mother had been a surgical nurse for thirty years before she got sick. I knew what old blood looked like.
My hands shook as I looked back at the pawn shop receipt.
Four years ago, Catherine Moretti had pawned a diamond watch for fifty thousand dollars.
Why would the wife of Chicago’s most powerful man need to secretly pawn her jewelry? And how did the watch end up hidden in the coat she gave to the penniless woman she rescued from an alley?
“Hannah!”
A sharp voice echoed from the hallway.
I quickly shoved the receipt and the velvet box deep into my apron pocket, clutching the blue wool coat against my chest as I hurried out of the suite.
When I reached the top of the grand staircase, the dining room below was eerily quiet.
The guests were staring up at me.
Vanessa was pacing like a caged animal, her red silk gown swishing violently with every step. Luca stood exactly where I’d left him, holding Sophie’s hand, his dark eyes tracking my descent.
As I reached the bottom step, Vanessa lunged for the coat.
“Give me that!” she hissed, her manicured nails digging into the blue wool.
Luca caught her wrist mid-air.
He didn’t squeeze hard, but the effortless power in his grip made Vanessa freeze. He gently pulled her hand away from the fabric.
“Hand it to me, Hannah,” Luca said.
I handed him the coat.
Luca held the soft, faded material. I watched his thumb brush against the collar, and for a split second, the hardened mafia boss vanished. I saw a grieving husband remembering the scent of his wife.
“It was her favorite,” Luca whispered. “She wore it the day we brought Sophie home from the hospital.”
Sophie leaned against her father’s leg. “It smells like Mommy.”
Vanessa let out a frustrated, mocking laugh.
“Oh, for God’s sake! Yes, it’s Catherine’s old coat. She took pity on me. She gave me her hand-me-downs. Is it a crime to be poor, Luca? Is it a crime that I was too ashamed to tell your wealthy friends that I used to sleep on the street?”
She wiped a perfectly timed tear from her cheek, playing the victim brilliantly.
“I loved Catherine,” Vanessa cried, looking around the room at the guests. “She saved my life! And this is how you repay me? By dragging my trauma out at my engagement dinner?”
A few guests shifted uncomfortably. Some of them looked sympathetic.
Vanessa was good. She knew how to manipulate a room.
“She didn’t just give you a coat, Vanessa,” Teresa said from the piano bench.
The old woman’s voice cut through the murmurs.
“Catherine gave you a job,” Teresa continued. “She trusted you to manage her schedule. To pick up her prescriptions when her heart condition worsened.”
Vanessa’s jaw tightened. “And I did it flawlessly.”
“Did you?” Teresa challenged, her hands gripping the edge of the piano.
I watched Luca’s face. He was listening to every word, his eyes scanning Vanessa’s reactions.
“Mr. Moretti,” I said softly.
Luca turned his gaze to me.
I reached into my apron pocket. My fingers trembled as I pulled out the yellowed paper.
“When I grabbed the coat,” I said, my voice shaking, “this was in the pocket.”
I handed him the pawn shop receipt.
Luca unfolded it. His dark eyebrows pulled together.
“What is this?” he demanded, staring at the paper.
Vanessa’s face went completely blank. “I don’t know what that is. The maid probably planted it!”
“It’s a pawn receipt from four years ago,” Luca read aloud. “For a vintage diamond watch. Signed by Catherine.”
He looked up, his eyes locking onto Vanessa with terrifying intensity.
“My wife had unlimited credit cards. She had a safe full of cash. Why the hell was she pawning her grandmother’s diamond watch in the worst part of the city?”
Vanessa took a step back. “I don’t know! She was doing strange things toward the end, Luca! She was paranoid!”
“She wasn’t paranoid,” I interrupted.
I couldn’t stop myself. If I was going to be fired tonight, I was going to make sure the truth came out.
I reached into my pocket one more time and pulled out the small velvet box.
Vanessa gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth.
I handed the box to Luca.
“This was also in the coat pocket,” I said.
Luca flipped the velvet lid open.
The room seemed to drop ten degrees.
Luca stared at the vintage diamond watch sitting on the white cushion. The same watch from the pawn receipt.
But then, Luca saw what I had seen.
He saw the dark, dried stain on the leather band.
“Whose blood is this?” Luca whispered, his voice dangerously soft.
Vanessa was shaking now. “I… I don’t know… Catherine must have cut herself…”
“Stop lying!”
The shout didn’t come from Luca. Or Teresa.
It came from Uncle Marco.
The older man pushed his chair back and stood up. He smoothed his tailored suit, looking at Vanessa with absolute disgust.
“I told you to get rid of the evidence, you stupid girl,” Marco said coldly.
The entire dining room gasped.
Luca turned slowly toward his uncle. The atmosphere in the room shifted from dramatic to deadly in a single second.
Marco didn’t look afraid. He looked annoyed.
“Uncle Marco,” Luca said, his voice dropping into a register that made my blood run cold. “What did you just say?”
Marco sighed, swirling the wine in his glass.
“Catherine found out about the money I was skimming from the family business, Luca. She was digging through the ledgers. She needed cash to hire a private investigator without you knowing.”
Marco pointed a finger at Vanessa.
“She pawned her watch. And she sent her trusted assistant, Vanessa, to deliver the cash to the investigator.”
Vanessa burst into tears. “Marco, don’t!”
“But Vanessa was greedy,” Marco continued smoothly. “She brought the watch to me instead. She told me Catherine was investigating me. In exchange for my protection and a place in your bed, Vanessa agreed to make sure Catherine never finished her investigation.”
Luca’s eyes widened in horror as the realization hit him.
He looked at the dried blood on the watch band.
Then he looked at Vanessa.
“You didn’t save this as a memory,” Luca whispered, the betrayal tearing his voice apart. “You kept it as a trophy.”
Vanessa fell to her knees on the marble floor.
“Luca, please! He forced me! Marco made me do it!”
Before Luca could react, Sophie tugged on my apron.
I looked down.
The little girl wasn’t looking at her father, or Vanessa, or Marco.
She was holding out a crumpled piece of drawing paper toward me.
“Hannah,” Sophie whispered, her eyes wide with fear. “Mommy drew this the night she died. She told me to hide it until Grandma played the song.”
I took the drawing from her small hands and unfolded it.
It was a sketch in blue crayon.
It showed a woman with black hair—Vanessa—pouring a small bottle of dark liquid into a teacup.
May you like
And at the bottom of the drawing, Catherine had written three words in frantic handwriting:
Check her bracelet.
