Chapter 3 - The Ghost In The Pockets
My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought my chest would crack.
Every single pair of eyes in the dining room snapped toward me. Forty-eight wealthy elites, the wedding planner, Michael, Luca, and Vanessa. They were all staring at the maid in the black and white uniform.
“I…” I stammered, my mouth completely dry. “I don't know what you're talking about, sir.”
Mateo Vargas tilted his head, his dark eyes sparkling with dangerous amusement. “Oh, don't be modest, chica. When you took my coat in the foyer, you felt it. I was watching you from the hallway.”
Luca stepped away from Vanessa. The protective stance he had taken just moments ago dissolved into terrifying stillness. He looked at me.
“Grace,” Luca said, his voice carrying the quiet, deadly calm of a man who commanded an empire. “What did you find?”
My hands were shaking violently. “I just hung up his coat, Mr. Moretti. A watch fell out. I put it back. That’s all.”
“A watch?” Michael interrupted, stepping closer to the table. “What kind of watch?”
“A silver pocket watch,” I whispered, unable to look away from Luca’s piercing gaze. “It was heavily scratched on the front casing.”
Vanessa gasped, yanking her left arm behind her back.
But Michael had already seen it.
He lunged forward, grabbing Vanessa’s wrist and wrenching her arm into the light. The heavy, masculine silver pocket watch dangled from the chain around her delicate wrist.
“It matches,” Michael breathed, staring at the scratched metal. He looked at his older brother. “Luca, it’s a matching set.”
Luca stared at the heavy silver object hanging from his fiancée’s wrist. The betrayal didn't hit him with a scream; it hit him with a devastating, silent realization.
“You told me that watch belonged to your late grandfather,” Luca said, his voice hollow.
“It does!” Vanessa cried, trying to pull her arm out of Michael’s grip. “Luca, he’s lying! Mateo is trying to ruin me because I left him!”
Mateo laughed. It was a rich, genuine laugh that echoed terribly in the tense room.
“I gave you that watch on our first anniversary, Vanessa,” Mateo said smoothly. He walked over to the table and tapped the blue parchment paper he had thrown down earlier. “Just like I gave you the instructions to empty the Moretti offshore accounts.”
Luca finally looked away from Vanessa. He reached out and picked up the blue parchment.
As he unfolded it, the dining room was so quiet I could hear the paper creaking.
Luca’s eyes scanned the document. His jaw locked. The muscles in his neck tightened until the tattoos peaking above his collar stretched taut.
“Two million dollars,” Luca read aloud, his voice devoid of all emotion. “Transferred from our Cayman holding company to a private account in Miami. Authorized at 4:00 PM today.”
He looked up at Vanessa.
“You have signing authority on the Cayman account for the wedding expenses.”
“I didn't do it!” Vanessa screamed, panic finally shattering her elegant facade. She pointed violently at Mateo. “He hacked it! He’s trying to frame me!”
“With your private security PIN?” Mateo countered softly. “A PIN only you and Luca know?”
Luca dropped the paper onto the table. He didn't yell. He didn't throw anything. He just looked at the woman he was supposed to marry in three days with absolute, freezing disgust.
“The wedding is off,” Luca said.
Vanessa let out a strangled cry. “Luca, no! Please!”
“Michael,” Luca ordered, not taking his eyes off Vanessa. “Get her out of my house. Then call the bank.”
Michael nodded tightly. He grabbed Vanessa’s elbow, but she fought back like a cornered animal.
“You can't do this to me!” Vanessa shrieked, struggling against Michael’s grip. “You promised you would protect me! You promised!”
“I promised to protect my wife,” Luca said coldly. “Not Mateo Vargas’s wife.”
As Michael dragged a sobbing Vanessa toward the grand double doors of the dining room, Mateo Vargas slowly buttoned his suit jacket. He looked entirely satisfied.
“A wise business decision, Moretti,” Mateo said, turning toward the exit. “I’ll see myself out.”
“You aren't going anywhere,” Luca said.
Three massive security guards stepped out of the shadows, blocking the dining room doors. Mateo stopped, his smug smile faltering for the first time.
“You stole two million dollars from my family,” Luca said, walking slowly around the table toward Mateo. “You think I'm letting you walk out the front door?”
Mateo’s eyes darted between the guards and Luca. He took a calculated step back.
“You don't want a war with me, Luca,” Mateo warned, his voice dropping its playful tone.
“I don't start wars,” Luca whispered, stopping inches from Mateo’s face. “I finish them.”
Luca nodded to the guards. They grabbed Mateo by both arms, hauling him backward.
“Check his pockets,” Luca ordered. “Get his phone, his keys, and the watch.”
One of the guards shoved a hand into Mateo’s tailored jacket. He pulled out a sleek black phone, a set of car keys, and the silver pocket watch.
But as the guard pulled his hand out, something else caught on the fabric and fluttered to the marble floor.
It landed right next to the shattered champagne glass I was still standing over.
It was a piece of folded, crumpled construction paper.
“Wait,” I said instinctively, dropping to my knees.
I picked up the paper. It felt cheap, slightly sticky on the edges, like it had been held by small, messy hands.
I unfolded it.
Drawn in bright, wobbly pink crayon was a picture of a woman with long red hair, holding hands with a little girl. Above the figures, written in clumsy, backward letters, were two words:
MOMMY AND LILY.
I looked up at Vanessa, who was still fighting Michael near the doorway. Her hair was red.
Then I looked at the drawing again.
Down in the bottom corner, stamped in neat, blue ink, was a date.
October 12th.
That was today.
“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, standing up slowly. The paper trembled in my hands.
Luca turned to me, his dark eyes still burning with rage. “What is it, Grace?”
I swallowed hard, looking from the drawing to Mateo’s suddenly terrified face. The smooth, arrogant cartel boss had just gone completely pale.
“This drawing,” I said, my voice shaking. “It was made today.”
Luca frowned, stepping closer to take the paper from my hands. He looked at the pink crayon, then at the date stamp.
“Who is Lily?” Luca asked, looking at Vanessa.
Vanessa stopped struggling. She went entirely still in Michael’s arms, staring at the drawing in Luca’s hand as if it were a loaded gun.
Mateo suddenly lunged violently against the guards.
“Don't answer him!” Mateo roared, his accent slipping into pure, frantic Spanish. “¡Te mataré si abres la boca!” (I will kill you if you open your mouth!)
Vanessa began to weep hysterically. She dropped to her knees on the floor, burying her face in her hands.
“Lily is my daughter,” Vanessa sobbed, her voice echoing through the silent room.
Luca stared at her in shock. “You have a child?”
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Vanessa looked up, her makeup running down her face in dark rivers.
“And Mateo doesn't just have her,” she whispered, her eyes wide with absolute terror. “He has Michael’s son, too.”
