Chapter 2 - The Flag She Tried To Destroy
“PUT THAT FLAG IN THE TRASH. YOUR FATHER'S FUNERAL WAS SEVEN YEARS AGO!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE ORDERED ME TO THROW AWAY HIS LATE FATHER'S FOLDED AMERICAN FLAG—BUT WHEN I ENTERED HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER WITH BLOOD ON MY WHITE APRON, SHE SAID, “SHE DROPPED IT WHILE CLEANING THE STUDY,” BEFORE LUCA EVEN ASKED WHAT HAD HAPPENED.
“Hannah?”
Luca Moretti stopped in the middle of his engagement toast.
I stood in the dining room doorway, holding a triangular wooden display case against my chest.
The glass was shattered.
Blood had soaked through the towel wrapped around my left hand.
And inside the broken case was a carefully folded American flag.
Twenty-eight guests turned toward me.
Vanessa Bellini immediately stood.
“Oh, for heaven's sake. She dropped your father's flag while cleaning the study. I told her to put it away before dinner.”
Luca slowly lowered his champagne glass.
“My father's flag?”
“Yes, darling. She's been careless all afternoon.”
He looked at my bleeding hand.
Then at the case I was holding.
“Hannah, why are you carrying that?”
My throat tightened.
Because Vanessa had just told him something that wasn't true.
I hadn't dropped the flag.
And I hadn't been cleaning the study.
I'd been trying to save the last thing Luca's father had been given at his military funeral.
My name is Hannah Collins.
I was twenty-six, worked as a housemaid at the Moretti estate, and had spent the last three hours terrified that I was about to lose my job.
I'd never planned to interrupt Luca's engagement dinner.
I just couldn't bring myself to throw away that flag.
It had belonged to Antonio Moretti.
Luca's father.
A former Army sergeant who'd spent the final twenty years of his life running a small automotive repair shop.
Antonio was the kind of man who fixed his neighbors' cars without charging them when money was tight.
He kept a jar of peppermints on his desk.
And according to his wife, Teresa, he cried every time he watched his son graduate from anything.
Kindergarten.
High school.
College.
It didn't matter.
“Your father was a terrible audience member,” Teresa used to tell Luca.
“He'd be blowing his nose before they even called your name.”
Antonio died seven years earlier.
At his military funeral, a folded American flag had been presented to Teresa.
She kept it inside a wooden display case on the mantel in the family sitting room.
Every Sunday morning, she dusted the glass herself.
And every year on Antonio's birthday, she placed a small vase of white carnations beside it.
She never made a show of it.
She simply wanted something of her husband's close to her.
That afternoon, I'd been helping prepare the sitting room for the engagement guests.
At three thirty, Vanessa entered with the event decorator.
She wore a fitted red silk gown and diamond earrings.
Her eyes moved toward the mantel.
Then she frowned.
“What's that still doing there?”
I looked up.
“Mr. Moretti's father's flag, ma'am.”
“I can see that.”
She pointed toward the case.
“Remove it.”
I hesitated.
“Mrs. Moretti likes to keep it there.”
Vanessa sighed.
“Hannah, we're preparing for an engagement party.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“I don't want a funeral display in the background of our celebration.”
My stomach tightened.
“It's very important to Mrs. Moretti.”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“Then she can keep it in her bedroom.”
I nodded.
“Of course. I'll bring it upstairs.”
But before I could lift the case, Teresa appeared in the doorway.
She was seventy-eight.
Silver hair neatly pinned back.
A navy-blue evening dress.
Pearl earrings.
And a gentle smile that disappeared the moment she saw Vanessa pointing at the mantel.
“Is something wrong, dear?”
Vanessa smiled.
“Oh, Teresa. We're just making room for the engagement decorations.”
Teresa looked at the flag.
“Oh.”
She hesitated.
“Could we perhaps leave Antonio's flag where it is?”
Vanessa's expression tightened.
“It doesn't match the decorations.”
Teresa looked embarrassed.
“I understand.”
Then she glanced toward the case.
“But it's been there since his funeral.”
Vanessa sighed.
“Teresa, we're trying to celebrate a new beginning. We don't need reminders of death everywhere.”
The older woman's smile faded.
I saw her fingers tighten around her little silver purse.
Then she nodded.
“Of course, dear.”
She looked toward me.
“Hannah, would you please put it somewhere safe?”
I smiled reassuringly.
“Of course, Mrs. Moretti.”
She touched the wooden case.
Just once.
Then whispered, “Antonio would have loved seeing Luca so happy.”
And quietly left the room.
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
Then I carefully lifted the display case.
It was heavier than I expected.
Solid oak.
Beautifully polished.
There was a small brass plate beneath the glass.
ANTONIO MORETTI.
BELOVED HUSBAND AND FATHER.
I carried it toward the staircase.
But Vanessa stopped me.
“Where are you going?”
“To Mrs. Moretti's bedroom.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
I stared at her.
“Ma'am?”
“I don't want that thing upstairs, either.”
My stomach tightened.
“But Mrs. Moretti asked me to keep it safe.”
Vanessa stepped closer.
“Take it to the service entrance.”
I hesitated.
“Why?”
She gave an impatient sigh.
“Because we're clearing out the old decorations.”
I looked at the flag.
“Miss Bellini, this isn't a decoration.”
Her smile disappeared.
“Excuse me?”
“It's the flag from Mr. Moretti's father's funeral.”
“I know exactly what it is.”
She leaned closer.
“And I don't need a housemaid explaining family history to me.”
I swallowed.
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Good. Then throw it away.”
For a moment, I thought I'd misunderstood.
“Throw it away?”
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
“Honestly, Hannah. Your hearing is perfectly fine.”
I stared at her.
“Mrs. Moretti would be heartbroken.”
“She'll get over it.”
I couldn't speak.
Then Vanessa said something that made my stomach turn.
“Her husband has been dead for seven years. At some point, people need to stop decorating their homes around grief.”
I looked down at the flag.
Then back at her.
“Please, ma'am. Let me put it somewhere safe until after dinner.”
Vanessa's expression hardened.
“Give it to me.”
She reached for the case.
I instinctively stepped backward.
“Please—”
“Hannah.”
Her voice became sharp.
“Now.”
She grabbed one side of the wooden frame.
I tightened my grip.
“Miss Bellini, the glass—”
She pulled harder.
The case slipped between us.
Its corner struck the marble fireplace.
Glass shattered across the floor.
I reached forward without thinking.
A sharp edge caught my palm.
I gasped.
Blood ran down my fingers.
For one terrible second, neither of us moved.
Then Vanessa looked at the broken case.
“Oh, wonderful.”
I stared at the flag.
It had fallen halfway out of the frame.
I immediately knelt.
Carefully.
Desperately.
Trying to keep the folded fabric away from the broken glass.
Vanessa stepped back.
“Look what you've done.”
My eyes filled.
“Please, ma'am. I was only trying to save it.”
She folded her arms.
“It's a piece of fabric, Hannah.”
I looked up.
“It belonged to Mr. Moretti's father.”
“And his father is dead.”
The words struck harder than the broken glass.
Vanessa glanced toward the doorway.
“Clean this up.”
I stared at her.
“And if Luca asks, you dropped it while dusting.”
My heart started pounding.
“But—”
“Do you understand?”
I didn't answer.
She stepped closer.
“You know how much you need this job.”
She was right.
My mother had recently moved into a smaller apartment after my father died.
I'd been helping her cover the rent.
Losing my paycheck would've been devastating.
Vanessa smiled.
“Then don't make this more difficult than it needs to be.”
She walked away.
I stayed on the floor.
My hand was bleeding.
Glass was scattered across the marble.
And Antonio Moretti's flag rested against my knees.
I carefully lifted it.
Folded the loose edge back into place.
Then wrapped my injured hand in a clean kitchen towel.
I should have taken the flag upstairs immediately.
But when I reached the service hallway, Vanessa was waiting.
She pointed toward the garbage bins.
“Put it there.”
I stopped.
“Miss Bellini—”
“Don't test me, Hannah.”
I looked at the flag.
Then at the bins.
And something inside me refused.
“No, ma'am.”
Vanessa stared at me.
“What?”
“I can't throw it away.”
Her face went cold.
“Then you can collect your final paycheck tomorrow.”
She turned and walked away.
I stood there for several minutes.
Trying not to cry.
Then I carried the case toward the small storage room beside the kitchen.
I placed it on a clean shelf.
Away from the garbage.
Away from the caterers.
And away from Vanessa.
I promised myself I'd tell Teresa after dinner.
But at six forty-five, Mrs. Carter found me.
“Hannah, Mr. Moretti needs more water at the table.”
I looked down at my hand.
“Mrs. Carter, I—”
Then I heard footsteps.
Vanessa appeared.
She glanced at the towel around my palm.
Her expression hardened.
“Get that off. You're embarrassing the staff.”
I swallowed.
“It's still bleeding.”
“Then keep it hidden.”
I looked toward the storage room.
Vanessa followed my gaze.
Her eyes narrowed.
“You didn't throw it away.”
I couldn't answer.
She stepped closer.
“Bring it to me.”
“Please, ma'am.”
“Now.”
I picked up the broken case.
My hand began shaking.
And when I followed her toward the dining room, I realized she intended to make an example of me in front of everyone.
Now, standing beneath the chandeliers, I was holding that shattered display case while Luca Moretti stared at my bloody apron.
He was thirty-eight.
Dark swept-back hair.
Light stubble.
A tailored black three-piece suit and black open-collar shirt.
Visible tattoos covered his hands and climbed along his neck.
He walked toward me.
“Hannah.”
I swallowed.
“Yes, Mr. Moretti?”
“Let me see your hand.”
I hesitated.
“It's nothing, sir.”
He looked at the blood soaking through the towel.
“That isn't nothing.”
He gently took the broken case from my arms.
Placed it safely on the sideboard.
Then reached for a clean napkin.
“Sit down.”
My eyes widened.
“Sir?”
“Please.”
I sat on the nearest chair.
Luca crouched beside me.
He carefully examined my palm.
A small piece of glass was still embedded near my thumb.
His expression changed.
“You've been working like this?”
I nodded.
Vanessa sighed.
“For heaven's sake, Luca. She dropped the case. It's a small cut.”
He didn't look at her.
“Hannah, did someone clean this?”
“No, sir.”
“Why not?”
My throat tightened.
“I was afraid of missing my shift.”
Luca looked at me.
“Missing your shift?”
I swallowed.
“Miss Bellini said I wouldn't have a job tomorrow.”
The room went silent.
Vanessa gave a sharp laugh.
“That's ridiculous.”
Luca slowly stood.
He looked at his fiancée.
“Did you threaten to fire Hannah?”
“She deliberately disobeyed me.”
“By doing what?”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“Refusing to dispose of something I'd asked her to remove.”
Luca glanced toward his father's flag.
“Dispose of?”
Vanessa's smile faltered.
He looked back at her.
“You told me Hannah dropped it while cleaning.”
“She did.”
“Then what did you ask her to dispose of?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“The damaged case.”
Luca studied her.
“After it broke?”
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly.
“Then why was Hannah trying to carry it out of the house before dinner?”
Vanessa didn't answer.
Luca looked at me.
“Hannah, did Vanessa tell you to throw away my father's flag?”
I stared at my injured hand.
My throat tightened.
Then I nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
Vanessa immediately snapped.
“Because it's been sitting on that mantel for seven years!”
Luca went completely still.
She continued.
“I wanted the room to look beautiful for our engagement. Is that such a terrible thing?”
He looked at the flag.
Then toward the far end of the table.
Where Teresa Moretti sat motionless.
Her eyes were fixed on the broken wooden frame.
Luca's expression changed.
“Mom?”
Teresa looked up.
Her lips trembled.
“Is that your father's flag?”
Luca walked toward her.
“Yes, Mom.”
She stared at the shattered glass.
Then whispered, “Oh, Antonio.”
Her voice broke.
“I promised I'd take care of it.”
Luca immediately knelt beside her.
“Mom, look at me.”
She shook her head.
“I should've kept it in my room.”
“You didn't do anything wrong.”
She reached toward the flag.
Her fingers trembled.
“Your father was so proud of his service.”
Luca swallowed.
“I know.”
Teresa looked at him.
“Do you remember what he said when he came home from the hospital that last time?”
Luca's eyes filled.
He nodded.
“He said he wanted us to take care of each other.”
Teresa began crying.
“He was worried about leaving us.”
Luca pulled his mother into his arms.
For several seconds, he couldn't speak.
Then he whispered, “I remember, Mom.”
She held him tightly.
And the most powerful man in the room closed his eyes as tears slipped down his face.
When he finally stood, his expression had changed.
He turned toward Vanessa.
“Why did you tell my mother that flag had to go?”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“Because this house needs to move forward.”
“Move forward?”
“Yes. We can't spend our marriage living in the shadow of your father's funeral.”
Luca stared at her.
Then looked toward the broken case.
“My father spent his life teaching me to respect people who had less than we did.”
Vanessa said nothing.
“He taught me that a man's character matters more than his bank account.”
Luca glanced at my bleeding hand.
“And tonight, you threatened a woman who was trying to protect something my family loves.”
Vanessa's cheeks flushed.
“She's an employee, Luca.”
“Yes.”
His voice grew firm.
“And she's a human being.”
Nobody moved.
He pointed toward the broken case.
“She risked losing her job because she understood what that flag meant to my mother.”
Vanessa looked away.
“And you couldn't even be bothered to ask.”
For several seconds, the room remained silent.
Then Luca turned toward Daniel, his head of security.
“Please arrange for Hannah to receive medical attention.”
Daniel nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
“And call someone who restores wooden display cases.”
Luca looked at his mother.
“We're going to fix Dad's case.”
Teresa began crying again.
Then he turned toward Vanessa.
“Your things will need to be packed tonight.”
Her eyes widened.
“What?”
He looked directly at her.
“The engagement is over.”
Vanessa stared at him.
“You're ending our engagement over a flag?”
Luca shook his head.
“No.”
His voice was quiet.
“I'm ending it because you wanted me to be ashamed of the people and memories that made me who I am.”
Vanessa said nothing.
Then he added, “And because you thought you could hurt someone who depended on this job and I'd never find out.”
For the first time all evening, her perfect smile disappeared.
I sat beside the table, crying quietly.
Not because my hand hurt.
But because the man whose house I'd cleaned for almost three years had just defended me in front of everyone.
And because Teresa was smiling through her tears.
Later that evening, after the guests had gone, I helped her upstairs.
She carried the folded flag against her chest while Daniel took the broken wooden case for repair.
Halfway down the hallway, Teresa stopped.
“Hannah?”
I turned.
“Yes, ma'am?”
She looked at the flag.
Then whispered, “There's something Luca doesn't know.”
My stomach tightened.
“What is it?”
Teresa hesitated.
“Three weeks ago, Vanessa asked me to give her Antonio's service medals.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“She said Luca wanted to have them cleaned before the wedding.”
I went still.
“Did you give them to her?”
Teresa nodded.
“She promised to return them.”
I looked toward the staircase.
“Have you seen them since?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Then her eyes filled.
“And yesterday, a man came to the house asking about the rest of Antonio's military collection.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“What man?”
Teresa swallowed.
“He said he was from a private auction company.”
I stared at her.
“And he said Vanessa had already sold the medals.”
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Teresa reached for my wrist.
“Hannah, there's something else.”
Her voice trembled.
“Antonio had one medal he never displayed.”
I leaned closer.
“Why?”
Teresa looked toward the stairs, where Luca was speaking with Daniel.
Then whispered something that made my stomach drop.
“Because that medal was awarded after he saved another soldier's life.”
She paused.
“And the soldier's name was Collins.”
My breath caught.
Collins.
My last name.
Teresa studied my face.
May you like
Then she asked the question I'd never expected to hear inside the Moretti mansion.
“Hannah, what was your father's name?”
