Chapter 2 - THE SILVER POCKET WATCH
Bianca stared at the microphone resting on the white linen tablecloth.
For the first time all evening, the grand dining room was entirely devoid of sound. The clinking of silver forks had ceased. The soft jazz playing from the corner speakers suddenly felt deafening. Thirty wealthy guests, dressed in custom suits and designer gowns, held their collective breath.
Dante Romano stood beside his fiancée’s chair.
His dark eyes were unreadable, but the stillness of his posture radiated a quiet, terrifying danger.
“Go ahead, Bianca,” Dante said softly.
Bianca’s perfectly manicured fingers twitched against the red satin of her dress. She looked around the table, searching for an ally. She found none. The men who did business with Dante knew better than to cross him. Their wives, who had secretly despised Bianca’s arrogance for months, simply watched with cold fascination.
“Dante, darling,” Bianca whispered, forcing a fragile, trembling smile. “You can’t be serious. You want me to apologize to a maid? In front of our friends?”
“I want you to apologize to a young woman you deliberately terrified,” Dante corrected, his voice never rising above a conversational murmur. “Pick it up.”
Bianca’s face flushed a deep, humiliating crimson.
She looked at Grace.
The twenty-two-year-old maid was still standing near the edge of the table, her hands clutching her white apron. Little Lucy remained pressed against her side, holding Grace’s hand like a lifeline.
Grace’s chest heaved as she tried to calm her erratic breathing.
“M-Mr. Romano, please,” Grace managed to whisper, the stutter still clipping her words. “She d-doesn’t have to. I’m fine.”
“You are shaking, Grace,” Dante said, his gaze briefly softening as he looked at her. “And my daughter is crying. Someone is going to apologize.”
He turned back to Bianca.
“Now.”
Bianca’s fragile smile shattered. Her upper lip curled into a sneer of pure, unfiltered venom.
She didn’t reach for the microphone. Instead, she pushed her chair back so violently it tipped over and crashed against the marble floor.
“I will not apologize to a thief!” Bianca shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at Grace.
The guests gasped.
Dante didn’t flinch, but his jaw tightened. “A thief?”
“Yes!” Bianca yelled, her chest heaving. She stepped away from the table, desperate to regain control of the narrative. “You think she’s so innocent, Dante? You think she’s just a sweet, stuttering little girl? She’s been stealing from this house for weeks!”
Grace’s eyes widened in absolute horror. “N-no! I would n-never—”
“Check her apron pockets!” Bianca demanded, turning to the crowd to plead her case. “I saw her slip something into her pocket while she was clearing the salad plates. That’s why I was being so hard on her! I was trying to get her to confess before she embarrassed you!”
Lucy stepped in front of Grace, spreading her small arms defensively. “You’re lying! Grace doesn’t steal!”
“Lucy, step aside,” Dante said quietly.
He walked slowly toward Grace.
Grace was trembling so violently she could barely stand. She looked up at the towering Mafia Boss, tears spilling over her eyelashes. She had needed this job to pay for her younger sister’s medical treatments. If she was fired for theft, her life was over.
“I d-didn’t,” Grace sobbed, shaking her head. “I s-swear to you, Mr. Romano. I didn’t t-take anything.”
Dante looked down at her. He studied her terrified, honest eyes.
Then, he reached out and gently slid his hand into the deep front pocket of her white apron.
Grace held her breath.
She expected his hand to come up empty. She knew she hadn’t taken anything.
But Dante’s fingers closed around something heavy and metallic.
Grace’s heart stopped.
Dante slowly pulled his hand from her pocket.
Resting in his palm was a heavy, antique silver pocket watch. It was engraved with intricate vines, but the silver was deeply tarnished, and the glass face was shattered.
The room erupted into shocked whispers.
Bianca let out a triumphant, cruel laugh. “You see? I told you! The little stuttering mouse is a criminal! Now fire her and have your guards throw her out onto the street!”
Grace stared at the watch in absolute disbelief. “I… I d-don’t know how that got in there! I’ve n-never seen it before!”
She was telling the truth. She hadn’t seen it.
But as Dante stared down at the heavy silver object in his palm, his face drained of all color.
He didn’t look angry. He looked as though he had seen a ghost.
“Where did you get this?” Dante whispered, his voice suddenly hollow.
“I told you, she stole it!” Bianca insisted, crossing her arms. “It was probably sitting on a side table in the parlor!”
Dante slowly raised his head. His dark eyes locked onto his fiancée with a terrifying, lethal intensity.
“That is impossible,” Dante said, his voice dropping to a deadly frequency.
“Why?” Bianca challenged, faltering slightly under his gaze.
Dante turned the pocket watch over in his hand.
On the back of the silver casing, smeared across the engraved vines, was a dark, rusted stain.
Dried blood.
“Because,” Dante said, stepping slowly toward Bianca, “this watch belonged to my brother, Matteo. He was wearing it the night his car was forced off the bridge five years ago.”
Bianca’s face went entirely slack.
“The police told me it was lost in the river,” Dante continued, stopping just inches from her. “So I want to know exactly how a watch that sank to the bottom of the ocean five years ago ended up in my maid’s apron tonight.”
Bianca stumbled backward, her red satin heels slipping on the marble. “I… I don’t know! She must have—”
“She didn’t put it there,” Dante snarled, dropping the polite facade completely. “You did. I watched you brush past her when she was wiping the table. You planted it.”
“Dante, no! I swear I didn’t!”
“Where did you get my dead brother’s watch, Bianca?” Dante roared, his voice shaking the crystal chandeliers.
Bianca burst into tears, covering her face. “I found it!” she sobbed frantically. “I found it this afternoon! But I didn’t know what it was! I just needed something to plant on her so you would fire her!”
Dante grabbed her by the arm. “Where did you find it?”
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Bianca pointed a trembling finger toward the grand staircase.
“In the guest wing,” she wept. “Hidden inside the lining of my father’s suitcase.”
