Chapter 4 - THE TICKET TO ZURICH
The living room went dead silent.
Luca stared at the airline ticket in his hand.
Then he stared at me.
“Emma,” he said. His voice was no longer grateful. It was terrifyingly cold. “Why is there a first-class ticket to Switzerland in your name hidden inside my fiancée’s coat?”
My heart stopped.
“I… I don't know!” I stammered, stepping backward. “I’ve never bought a plane ticket in my life! I don't even have a passport!”
Daniel moved closer to me, his hand resting menacingly on his holstered weapon.
“Boss,” Daniel warned. “She was the one who found the peanut butter. Maybe it was a setup to gain your trust.”
“No!” I cried, panic constricting my throat. “Mr. Moretti, please! I saved your life! Why would I warn you about the cake if I was trying to kill you?”
Luca didn't blink.
“Answer one,” Luca said methodically. “You exposed the cake to stop the murder.”
He took a slow step toward me.
“Open two. Did you stop the murder because you suddenly grew a conscience? Or because Vanessa didn't pay you the money she promised?”
Tears spilled down my cheeks.
“I swear to God, I have nothing to do with her!”
Luca held up the ticket.
“Then explain this.”
I looked at the ticket. I looked at the heavy wool coat lying on the rug.
My mind raced.
My grandmother used to tell me that when people tell lies, they always leave a piece of the truth behind by accident.
“Sir,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “When did the window break?”
Luca frowned. “Two minutes ago.”
“And where was Vanessa two minutes ago?”
Daniel answered. “I was locking her in the basement cell.”
I looked at Daniel.
“So Vanessa couldn't have thrown the brick through the window.”
Luca’s eyes narrowed.
I pointed at the coat.
“Someone outside the house threw that brick. Someone who wanted you to find the coat. Someone who wanted you to find the ticket with my name on it.”
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet the mafia boss’s terrifying gaze.
“Someone is trying to frame me, Mr. Moretti. Because I ruined their plan tonight.”
The logic hung in the cold air.
Luca looked at the shattered window, then at the coat on the floor.
He reached down and picked up the coat.
He ran his hands through the pockets.
“Daniel,” Luca said quietly. “Vanessa has been wearing this coat all week.”
“Yes, boss.”
“If she was planning to frame Emma and flee the country tonight… she wouldn't have kept the fake ticket in a coat hanging in the front closet where any maid could find it.”
Luca dropped the coat.
“Someone planted the ticket. And someone threw the brick to make sure we found it.”
The tension in the room broke slightly.
Daniel took his hand off his weapon.
Luca looked at me, a profound apology in his dark eyes.
“I’m sorry, Emma.”
I nodded, wiping my tears, too exhausted to speak.
“Daniel,” Luca ordered. “Get the guests out of here. Escort them safely to their cars. Then triple the perimeter guard. Nobody sleeps tonight.”
As Daniel ushered the terrified guests out of the mansion, Luca turned to me.
“You need to pack your things.”
Panic flared in my chest again. “You’re firing me?”
“I’m moving you,” Luca corrected. “The apartment behind the garage isn't safe. If my brother’s people are outside, you’re a target now. You’ll sleep in the guest wing of the main house.”
“Mr. Moretti, I can just go home to my mother’s house—”
“No,” Luca said firmly. “If they know your name, they know your mother’s address. I will send men to guard her house immediately. But you stay where I can see you.”
He turned and walked toward the stairs.
I had no choice. I followed him.
The guest wing was incredibly lavish, filled with antique furniture and silk drapes.
Luca opened the door to a massive bedroom.
“Lock the door behind me,” he said. “Don't open it for anyone but me.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He hesitated in the doorway.
“You saved my life tonight, Emma. I won't forget that.”
He closed the door.
I locked it.
I sat on the edge of the plush king-sized bed, my entire body shaking as the adrenaline finally crashed.
My life had completely spiraled out of control in the span of two hours.
I needed to clear my head.
I walked into the adjoining master bathroom to splash cold water on my face.
The bathroom was pristine, lined with white marble.
I turned on the faucet.
But as I leaned over the sink, I noticed something strange sitting on the glass shelf above the vanity.
It was a delicate, silver bracelet.
It looked old, tarnished with age, adorned with tiny sapphire stones.
I picked it up.
It hadn't been there when I cleaned this room yesterday.
I turned it over in my hands.
Engraved on the inside of the silver band was a name.
Isabella.
My blood ran cold.
The dead sister. The woman who delivered the cake.
If her bracelet was sitting in my locked bathroom...
I spun around.
Standing in the shadows of the shower stall, holding a suppressed pistol, was a tall woman with dark hair pulled back in a tight bun.
And a jagged, crescent moon scar on her left cheek.
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“Hello, Emma,” the dead woman whispered.
TITLE: THE BRACELET ON THE BATHROOM SINK
