Chapter 2 - The Note In The Blue Ribbon
“Because she said Vanessa already knows what happened to Mommy.”
The silence in the dining room became absolute.
Forty-two wealthy guests stopped breathing.
The crystal chandeliers seemed to hum above our heads.
Luca Moretti stood perfectly still, his dark eyes fixed on the small folded note in his hand.
Then he slowly looked at Vanessa.
She backed away, her red silk gown brushing against the edge of the long banquet table.
“Luca,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “He’s just a child. He doesn't know what he’s saying.”
Luca didn't blink.
“He didn't write this note, Vanessa.”
He looked down at the paper.
I watched his broad shoulders tense beneath his tailored suit.
His hands, usually so steady, began to shake.
“Anna wrote this,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. “My wife wrote this.”
Vanessa swallowed hard.
“Darling, Anna was very sick before the car crash. Her mind wasn't right. The doctors said she was suffering from paranoia.”
Elena stepped forward, her hands clenched into fists.
“My daughter-in-law was not paranoid,” the old woman said sharply. “She was terrified.”
Luca ignored them both.
He unfolded the rest of the note.
I stood close enough to see the pale blue ink, written in Anna’s elegant, sweeping cursive.
Luca read it in silence.
As his eyes moved across the page, the color drained completely from his face.
Then, a dark, devastating anger settled over his features.
He looked at his son.
“Noah,” Luca said gently.
The little boy flinched.
“Y-Yes, Daddy?”
Luca knelt in front of him, ignoring the forty-two guests watching them.
“Buddy, I need you to go with Rachel for a few minutes. Can you do that for me?”
Noah clutched his small hands together.
“Are you m-mad at me?”
Luca’s expression shattered.
He pulled Noah into a fierce hug, burying his face in his son’s shoulder.
“Never,” Luca whispered fiercely. “I could never be mad at you, my brave boy. You did exactly what Mommy asked you to do. I am so proud of you.”
Noah let out a small, relieved breath.
Luca stood up and looked at me.
His dark eyes held a silent command.
Protect him.
“Come on, sweetheart,” I said softly, taking Noah’s small hand.
I led him toward the grand staircase, but we only went up a few steps before stopping in the shadows of the landing.
I couldn't leave.
I needed to know what was happening.
Down below, Luca slowly turned his attention back to Vanessa.
He held up the piece of paper.
“Do you know what this says?” Luca asked, his voice dead and hollow.
Vanessa shook her head rapidly.
“I have no idea. I never met Anna. I swear it, Luca!”
“Then why does my dead wife mention you by name?”
Vanessa froze.
The guests began whispering frantically.
Luca stepped closer to her.
“Anna wrote that she saw you speaking with her father, Robert, three days before her car brakes failed.”
Vanessa gasped.
“That’s a lie! I didn't even live in Chicago back then!”
“She wrote that you handed Robert a thick envelope,” Luca continued, his voice rising in volume. “And that you were wearing a very specific piece of jewelry.”
Vanessa’s hand instinctively flew to her chest.
To the high neckline of her red silk gown.
Luca noticed.
We all did.
“Anna wrote that you wore a heavy silver locket,” Luca said quietly. “A locket that belonged to her mother. A locket that went missing from our house a week before Anna died.”
Vanessa’s face went paper white.
“No,” she stammered. “Luca, please. This is a setup. Robert is trying to frame me because I wouldn't help him take Noah!”
Luca didn't argue.
He simply extended his tattooed hand.
“Take it out, Vanessa.”
She backed away, bumping into a silver candelabra.
“Luca, don't do this in front of everyone.”
“Take it out,” he roared, the sudden violence in his voice echoing off the marble walls.
Vanessa began crying.
With shaking fingers, she reached inside the neckline of her dress.
She pulled out a thick, silver chain.
Hanging from the end of it was a heavy, antique silver locket.
Elena gasped, covering her mouth with both hands.
“That’s Anna’s,” the old woman whispered. “I helped her polish it.”
Luca stared at the jewelry around his fiancée’s neck.
The woman he was supposed to marry in three weeks.
The woman who had just tried to starve his son.
“You were in my house,” Luca said, his voice breaking with betrayal. “Before my wife died. You were already inside my home.”
Vanessa sobbed, gripping the locket tightly.
“I didn't want to hurt her, Luca! Robert made me do it! He said if I didn't get him the spare keys to her car, he would kill my brother!”
The dining room erupted in gasps.
She had just confessed.
She had given Robert the keys. She had helped them cut the brakes.
Luca drew his gun from the shoulder holster under his jacket.
Several guests screamed.
But before Luca could point the weapon, the heavy oak doors of the dining room crashed open.
Four men in dark suits stepped inside, carrying automatic rifles.
And behind them, leaning on a polished wooden cane, walked an older man with silver hair and cold, calculating eyes.
Robert.
May you like
Anna’s father.
“Put the gun down, Luca,” Robert said smoothly. “Or my men will shoot your mother right where she stands.”
