Chapter 7 - THE STOLEN RING ON HER FINGER
Matteo grabbed Bianca’s wrist, twisting it sharply.
The brass fireplace poker clattered uselessly to the hardwood floor. With a swift, practiced motion, Matteo spun Bianca around and pinned her arm behind her back, pressing her face down against the polished mahogany dining table.
“Don’t you ever raise a weapon in front of my son,” Matteo hissed, his voice vibrating with rage.
Bianca thrashed against him, crying out in frustration, but Matteo’s grip was iron.
“Emily!” Matteo barked. “Get Leo out of here. Take him to my study and lock the door.”
I didn’t hesitate. I ran across the room, scooping Leo into my arms. The little boy buried his face in my neck, sobbing quietly.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” I whispered, rushing toward the hallway. “Aunt Emily’s got you.”
The words slipped out naturally. Aunt Emily.
For the first time in my life, I wasn't just a maid taking orders. I was protecting my family.
I hurried down the corridor to Matteo’s heavy oak-paneled study. I carried Leo inside, set him down gently on the leather sofa, and locked the thick double doors behind us.
“Are we playing a hiding game?” Leo asked, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Yes,” I said, forcing a calm, reassuring smile. “We’re playing a hiding game. Your dad is going to take care of the mean lady, and then we’re all going to have ice cream.”
Leo sniffled but nodded, hugging his stuffed bear tighter.
I paced the room, my heart hammering against my ribs. Through the thick walls, I could hear the muffled sounds of shouting and breaking glass.
Then, sirens.
They started as a faint wail in the distance, growing louder and louder until they were screaming right outside the mansion’s front gates. Someone—perhaps one of the fleeing guests or the staff—had called the police.
Ten minutes later, there was a sharp knock at the study door.
“Emily. It’s me.”
Matteo’s voice.
I quickly unlocked the door. Matteo stood in the hallway, his suit jacket gone, his tie loosened, and his knuckles bruised. Behind him, two police officers were escorting a handcuffed Bianca out the front doors.
Bianca didn't scream anymore. She just looked defeated, her head bowed in disgrace.
Matteo walked into the study and immediately pulled Leo into a tight embrace. He buried his face in his son’s hair, letting out a long, shuddering breath.
“Is the bad lady gone, Dad?” Leo asked softly.
“She’s gone, buddy,” Matteo whispered. “She’s never coming back.”
Matteo stood up and looked at me. The exhaustion in his eyes was profound, but there was also a deep, overwhelming sense of relief.
“They arrested her,” Matteo said quietly. “For attempted assault, extortion, and everything else I can throw at her. The lawyers will handle the rest.”
I nodded, feeling the adrenaline slowly leave my body. “What about Mrs. Whitmore?”
“She’s in the kitchen having a cup of tea,” Matteo managed a faint smile. “The woman has a stronger constitution than I do.”
He walked over to his large mahogany desk and opened the top drawer. He pulled out the silver locket I had worn all my life, the pocket watch Leo had found, and the heavy silver rosary.
He set them in a row on the desk.
“Three pieces of the past,” Matteo murmured. “All leading to this moment.”
He picked up the silver rosary. His thumb traced the ornate cross.
“I spent my whole life trying to be the man my father was,” Matteo said, his voice thick with emotion. “I ran this company, I protected this estate, all because I thought he was a good man who died of a broken heart.”
He threw the rosary into the metal wastebasket beside his desk. It landed with a loud, final clatter.
“He wasn't,” Matteo said firmly. “He was a coward. And I am done carrying his guilt.”
He turned to me, his dark eyes softening completely.
“I missed twenty-eight years of your life, Emily,” he said. “I missed your first steps, your graduation, your struggles. I let you work in my house as a servant.”
Tears pricked my eyes. “You didn't know, Matteo.”
“I know now,” he said, stepping forward. He took my hands in his. “You are a DeLuca. You are my sister. And from this day forward, you will never scrub another floor, you will never worry about a bill, and you will never be alone again. This is your home.”
A sob escaped my throat. I threw my arms around my big brother, burying my face in his chest. Matteo hugged me back fiercely, resting his chin on my head.
I finally belonged.
But as I pulled back to wipe my eyes, my gaze caught something sparkling on the floor near the sofa.
It was the engagement ring Bianca had been wearing. It must have slipped off during the struggle.
I walked over and picked it up. It was a massive, vintage diamond surrounded by sapphires.
“Matteo?” I asked, holding it up. “Did you buy this for her?”
Matteo looked at the ring, and his brow furrowed in confusion.
“No,” he said slowly. “That’s not the ring I gave her. I gave her a simple diamond solitaire.”
He took the heavy vintage ring from my hand, examining the intricate sapphire setting.
Suddenly, all the color drained from his face for the second time that night.
“Oh my God,” Matteo whispered.
“What is it?” I asked, my heart skipping a beat.
May you like
Matteo looked up at me, his eyes wide with a new, terrifying realization.
“This ring,” he said, his voice trembling. “It didn't belong to Bianca. It belonged to my mother. And she was wearing it the night she died.”
