Chapter 3 - THE WATCH LEFT ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER
The air in the kitchen turned to ice.
A dead woman had delivered the poisoned cake.
“That can't be right,” Daniel said, stepping forward. “Boss, I identified her body myself. It was her.”
Luca shook his head slowly.
“Emma saw a crescent moon scar. Isabella got that scar when we were children. She fell off a horse at the summer estate. Nobody outside this family knows about it.”
Vanessa was still sobbing on the floor, but her cries had grown weaker.
She was listening.
Luca turned his attention back to his fiancée.
“Did Matteo tell you Isabella was alive?”
“He didn't tell me anything!” Vanessa shrieked. “He just told me to marry you! He told me to make sure you ate the dessert tonight so he could inherit the Chicago territory!”
“And the fake wedding in the photograph?”
“It wasn't fake!” she cried. “We got married in secret three years ago, before he went to prison. He said if you died, as your legally appointed fiancée, I would inherit the estate, but as his wife, the money would belong to him!”
Disgust washed over Luca’s face.
“You’re a parasite, Vanessa.”
He looked at Daniel.
“Put her in the basement holding cell. Don't let anyone speak to her.”
“No! Luca, please!”
Daniel hoisted Vanessa off the floor effortlessly, dragging her kicking and screaming through the service doors.
The kitchen was finally quiet.
Luca leaned heavily against the marble island.
He looked exhausted.
He rubbed his temples, staring at the photograph of his brother’s secret wedding.
“Mr. Moretti?” I asked softly.
He looked up at me.
“Are you alright, sir?”
He gave a bitter, humorless laugh.
“My brother is orchestrating my murder from prison. My dead sister is apparently working as a delivery driver. And my fiancée just tried to kill me with peanut butter.”
He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.
“No, Emma. I am not alright.”
I didn't know what to say.
I was just a maid. I shouldn't have been in this room.
But as I reached out to tidy the empty cake box, my fingers brushed against something cold and heavy sitting on the counter.
It had been hidden behind the white cardboard.
I pulled it forward.
It was an antique gold pocket watch.
“Sir?” I whispered, my heart skipping a beat. “Did you leave this here?”
Luca frowned and walked over.
He picked up the watch.
His breath hitched.
“No.”
He turned the heavy gold timepiece over in his palm.
“This was my father’s watch. He was buried with it.”
I stared at him in horror.
“Are you saying… someone dug up your father’s grave?”
Luca pressed the small latch on the side of the watch.
The gold cover popped open.
The hands on the clock face were frozen at exactly 11:59.
But that wasn't what made Luca’s face turn ashen.
Tucked inside the cover of the watch was a tiny, folded piece of paper.
He pulled it out and unfolded it with trembling fingers.
I could see the messy, handwritten scrawl from where I stood.
She isn't acting alone.
Luca read the note twice.
Then he looked at me.
“Answer one,” Luca murmured. “Isabella left this watch to prove she was really here. She’s the only one who knew my father requested the watch be buried with him.”
He looked toward the hallway where Daniel had just dragged Vanessa.
“But open two. If Vanessa isn't acting alone inside this house… who is helping her?”
Before I could answer, a loud crash echoed from the front of the mansion.
It sounded like breaking glass.
Followed instantly by a woman’s terrified scream.
Luca drew his weapon from his shoulder holster in a fraction of a second.
“Stay behind me,” he ordered.
We ran out of the kitchen, back into the grand hallway.
The forty guests were huddled together in the foyer, screaming and pointing toward the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the formal living room.
One of the windows had been completely shattered.
Cold Chicago wind howled through the broken glass, blowing the heavy silk curtains into the room like ghosts.
Daniel sprinted into the foyer from the basement stairs, his gun drawn.
“Boss! What happened?”
“Someone breached the window!” Luca shouted.
We rushed into the living room.
There was no intruder.
But lying in the center of the plush Persian rug, surrounded by shattered glass, was a brick.
Wrapped around the brick was a heavy wool coat.
Luca approached it slowly, his gun raised.
He kicked the coat to ensure there was nothing hiding underneath.
Then he lowered his weapon.
“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, recognizing the garment. “That’s Vanessa’s coat.”
I had hung it in the front closet earlier that evening.
Luca knelt down and unwrapped the coat from the brick.
Tucked inside the pocket of the coat was something small and rectangular.
Luca pulled it out.
It was an airline ticket.
First class. Chicago to Zurich.
Departing tonight at 2:00 AM.
But the name on the ticket didn't say Vanessa Bellini.
It said Emma Collins.
Luca stood up slowly, holding the ticket.
He turned and looked directly at me.
May you like
And the absolute trust that had been in his eyes five minutes ago was completely gone.
TITLE: THE TICKET TO ZURICH
