Chapter 3 - The Picture Inside The Watch
Nico didn't look up immediately.
He just kept staring at the small, faded photograph tucked inside the lid of the silver watch.
The room was so quiet I could hear the hum of the air conditioning.
“Let me see that,” Arthur demanded, stepping forward. He reached for the watch, his wealthy, polished demeanor entirely gone. He looked panicked.
Nico stepped back, pulling the watch out of his uncle’s reach.
“Who scratched out your face, Arthur?”
Arthur adjusted his cuffs. A nervous habit. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Evelyn was deeply unwell. If she took a photograph and defaced it, that only proves my point.”
Rosa stepped closer.
“Evelyn didn’t scratch out your face,” Rosa said softly. “Your wife did.”
Arthur’s head snapped toward her. “Shut your mouth, Rosa.”
Nico looked from Rosa to Arthur. “Aunt Helen? Why would Helen deface a picture of her own husband?”
I stood near the kitchen doors, holding Rosa’s baking dish, unable to move. I was just a maid. I shouldn't be hearing this. But nobody was looking at me. They were entirely trapped in the gravity of Rosa’s words.
“Because Helen knew,” Rosa said.
“Knew what?” Nico asked.
Arthur pointed a shaking finger at Nico. “If you listen to another word from this bitter old woman, I will freeze the company accounts tomorrow morning. I will lock you out of the trust.”
Nico finally looked at him.
The threat of money usually terrified people. But Nico Bellini had spent his entire life watching money ruin his family.
“Do it,” Nico said coldly.
Arthur blinked. “What?”
“Freeze the accounts. Take the company. I don’t care.” Nico turned back to Rosa. “Tell me what Helen knew.”
Celeste spoke instead.
Her voice was clearer now. The fear was gone, replaced by a devastating certainty.
“She knew I wasn’t an orphan,” Celeste said.
Nico looked at her, confused. “I know you’re not an orphan. Your mother was Evelyn.”
“And my father,” Celeste said, looking directly at Arthur, “is standing right there.”
Someone in the crowd gasped.
Arthur’s face contorted into something ugly and defensive. “It’s a lie. A disgusting, pathetic lie to extort this family.”
Nico looked down at the photograph in the watch again.
Now it made sense.
The man with the scratched-out face. The young maid standing next to him, looking terrified.
“You,” Nico whispered, looking at his uncle with pure disgust. “You went after my mother’s maid. A twenty-year-old girl.”
“I was a weak man in a difficult marriage!” Arthur exploded, finally breaking. The denial vanished, replaced by a horrific justification. “She was young. I made a mistake. But I provided for her. I gave her money. I gave her that watch to sell!”
“You beat her,” Celeste said, her voice shaking with rage. “You found out she was trying to leave Chicago with me, and you threw her down the back staircase.”
Arthur shook his head violently. “No! I never touched her!”
“She bled to death in the hospital!” Celeste screamed.
Nico grabbed Arthur by the lapels of his tuxedo. The older man stumbled forward.
“Did you touch her?” Nico demanded, his voice a low, terrifying growl.
“No!” Arthur choked out, terrified now. “Nico, I swear to God. I didn't push her.”
Nico shoved him backward. Arthur hit a chair and collapsed to the floor.
“Get out of my house,” Nico said.
Arthur scrambled to his feet, humiliated, straightening his jacket. He looked around the room, realizing that every business partner, every friend, every socialite had just witnessed his confession. His life in Chicago was over.
He looked at Celeste with pure venom.
“You think you’ve won?” Arthur sneered. “You think you know what happened that night?”
Arthur looked at Rosa.
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“I didn't push Evelyn. And neither did Nico’s father.” Arthur smiled, a nasty, bitter smile. “Tell them, Rosa. Tell them whose handprints were actually on Evelyn’s shoulders when the paramedics arrived.”
TITLE: The Handprints On Her Coat
