Chapter 2 - THE BLUE SUITCASE
The silence in the dining room was absolute.
Luca stared at Sabrina’s palm, where his wife’s gold wedding band now rested. But his eyes quickly darted back to Catherine.
“A baby?” Luca’s voice was barely a whisper. He looked at Sabrina. “What is she talking about?”
Sabrina’s perfect posture crumbled. The deep-red silk gown suddenly looked less like a symbol of victory and more like a warning sign.
“She’s lying,” Sabrina snapped, her voice pitching higher. “Luca, she’s hysterical. She’s making things up because she’s losing you.”
Catherine didn’t raise her voice. She didn't need to.
“Emily,” Catherine said, her eyes never leaving her husband’s face. “The suitcase, please.”
I hurried into the hallway. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely grip the handle of the little blue vintage suitcase resting by the staircase. I carried it back into the dining room and placed it gently on the mahogany table, right next to Catherine’s untouched dinner.
“Open it,” Catherine instructed.
I unlatched the brass locks. They popped with a sharp click that made Sabrina flinch.
I opened the lid.
Luca took a step forward, his breath catching in his throat.
Inside wasn't Catherine’s clothing. It wasn't jewelry or money for a desperate escape.
It was packed with newborn essentials. A stack of tiny white onesies. A silver rattle. A worn, beloved stuffed bear. And resting on top was the pale blue hospital blanket I had seen Catherine holding that night in the kitchen.
“Whose are these?” Luca demanded, his voice thick with a sudden, terrifying realization.
He looked at Sabrina. “Are you pregnant?”
Sabrina took a step back, shaking her head defensively. “No! Luca, I swear to you—”
“She’s not pregnant,” Catherine interrupted quietly. “She already gave birth. Four months ago.”
Luca looked like he had been struck. “You had a child? Why didn't you tell me?”
Catherine gave a short, bitter laugh. It was the first time I had ever heard her sound cruel.
“Because it isn’t your child, Luca,” Catherine said.
She reached into the pocket of her elegant evening gown and pulled out a folded piece of heavy paper. She placed it on the table.
“Answer one question, Sabrina,” Catherine said softly. “And I’ll open two doors for you. You can walk out the front door, or my husband can show you the back.”
Luca picked up the paper. It was a birth certificate.
I watched his dark eyes scan the document. I watched the blood drain completely from his face, leaving him looking hollow and aged.
“This says the father is Matteo,” Luca whispered, his voice cracking.
Matteo.
Luca and Catherine’s only son. The boy who had died in a tragic motorcycle accident exactly thirteen months ago.
“She was Matteo’s girlfriend at college,” Catherine explained, her voice steady but her eyes shining with unshed tears. “She found out she was pregnant a week after he died. Instead of coming to us, she hid. And then, she showed up at my back door, demanding two million dollars, or she was going to drop my grandson at an orphanage.”
Luca turned to Sabrina, his eyes wide with a horrifying disgust.
“You slept with me,” Luca breathed, the realization making him physically stumble backward. “You slept with your dead boyfriend's father.”
Sabrina’s fear vanished, replaced by a cold, hard smirk.
“I didn't just sleep with you, Luca,” Sabrina said smoothly, dropping Catherine’s wedding ring onto the table. “I broke you. I made you betray the only woman who ever actually loved you.”
Luca lunged forward, but Catherine’s sharp voice stopped him.
“Don't touch her!” Catherine ordered.
Luca froze, turning to his wife. “Cath, I didn't know. I swear to God, I didn't know who she was.”
“It doesn't matter if you knew her name, Luca,” Catherine said, her dignity absolute. “You still opened the door.”
Sabrina crossed her arms. “This is very touching. But the history lesson is over. I didn't come here tonight to take your husband, Catherine. I came to take my money.”
Sabrina reached into her designer clutch.
She didn't pull out a gun.
She pulled out a tarnished silver pocket watch.
Luca gasped. “That was Matteo’s. He was wearing that when he died.”
“If I don't walk out of here with two million dollars in the next five minutes,” Sabrina sneered, “my men are going to the private nursery where you hid the baby, Catherine. And you will never see your grandson again.”
Catherine looked at the pocket watch.
Then she looked at me.
“Emily, check my coat pocket in the hall closet,” Catherine said calmly.
I ran to the closet, my heart pounding against my ribs. I found her cashmere coat and plunged my hand into the pocket.
My fingers brushed against a piece of stiff cardboard.
I pulled it out and ran back to the dining room.
It was a train ticket.
Catherine took the ticket from my trembling hand and dropped it on the table next to the birth certificate.
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“Your men can check the nursery all they want, Sabrina,” Catherine said, a fierce, protective fire lighting up her eyes. “But my grandson hasn't been there for three days.”
TITLE: THE TRAIN TICKET
