Chapter 3 - THE YELLOWED TRAIN TICKET
Matteo took the yellowed train ticket from Vanessa’s trembling fingers.
The date punched into the heavy cardstock was clear: October 14th, two years ago.
It was the exact night Matteo’s first wife, Elena, had been killed in a car crash on the edge of the city.
“I found it hidden inside her mattress,” Vanessa said, her voice echoing in the quiet dining room. “The ticket was purchased by the Moretti family. Look at the billing stamp on the back. Sophie isn't just a maid, Matteo. She’s a spy for the men who killed Elena.”
Sophie backed away, her breath catching in her throat. “No! I don’t even know who the Morettis are!”
“Then how do you explain the ticket?” Vanessa demanded.
Matteo didn't look at Vanessa. He stared at the faded ink. “Sophie. Look at me.”
Sophie forced her tear-filled eyes to meet his.
“Did you buy this ticket?” he asked, his voice completely devoid of emotion.
“No, sir. I’ve never been on a train in my life. I grew up in the city.”
Vanessa laughed harshly. “Liar. My private investigator tracked her background. She’s completely wiped clean before she started working here. No family, no history. Just a convenient tragedy about a dead mother to manipulate your daughter.”
“My mother died protecting someone!” Sophie yelled, her voice finally breaking through her fear.
Matteo froze. “Protecting who?”
“I don't know!” Sophie sobbed, covering her face. “It was a hit-and-run. Two years ago on October 14th. She pushed a woman out of the way of a speeding black sedan and took the hit herself. The police never found the driver.”
The champagne glass in Mrs. Parker’s hand slipped, shattering against the marble floor.
Matteo slowly turned toward the old housekeeper.
“October 14th,” Matteo whispered. He looked back at Sophie. “Where did this happen?”
“On 5th and Elm,” Sophie cried. “Right outside the old rail station.”
Matteo’s chest stopped moving. He looked at the train ticket in his hand.
Elena hadn’t been driving home the night she died. The police report said she had crashed into an embankment.
But 5th and Elm was miles away from the crash site.
“Elena was at the rail station,” Matteo realized, his mind piecing together the horrific truth. “She was trying to leave me.”
Vanessa stepped forward, her eyes flashing with sudden desperation. “Matteo, don't listen to her. She’s trying to distract you. She’s a Moretti plant!”
“No, she isn't,” a deep voice interrupted.
Everyone turned. Standing in the doorway of the dining room was Arthur Whitmore, Vanessa’s wealthy, influential father.
Arthur looked at his daughter with pure disgust. “Tell him the truth, Vanessa. Tell him how that ticket got into the maid’s room.”
Vanessa backed away. “Dad, shut up.”
Arthur walked into the room, pulling a heavy silver pocket watch from his vest. “I won't let you drag my name down with you. I saw you, Vanessa. I saw you slip into the maid’s quarters this afternoon before the caterers arrived.”
Vanessa’s face went completely white.
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But Arthur wasn't finished.
He turned to Matteo. “She didn't just plant the ticket today, Matteo. She’s the one who bought it two years ago.”
