Chapter 3 - THE SCAR BENEATH THE COLLAR
The shattered glass of Celia’s champagne flute lay scattered across the expensive Persian rug.
Luca didn’t let go of his aunt’s wrist.
“Answer me, Celia. Why don’t I remember being in Chicago the night Grace was born?”
Celia yanked her arm free, her breathing shallow and frantic.
“You were drinking heavily back then, Luca. You were a reckless, grieving boy who had just lost his father. Your memory was unreliable.”
“Don't lie to him!” Anna shouted, scrambling to her feet. “He wasn't drinking! He was terrified.”
Anna turned to her brother, her eyes searching his face.
“Luca, look at me. You picked me up from the apartment. You were driving Marco’s car. We got sideswiped at the intersection of State and Madison.”
Luca rubbed his temples, closing his eyes tightly.
“I was in New York,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I got a call the next morning. You were gone. Marco was dead. Celia told me you ran away.”
“Because you hit your head in the crash, Luca!” Anna cried.
She reached out and lightly touched the edge of Luca’s collar.
“You have a scar. Right here. Beneath your collarbone, from the seatbelt.”
Luca froze.
Slowly, his hand moved to his neck. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his tailored shirt and pulled the fabric aside.
There, a jagged, faded white scar ran diagonally across his collarbone.
A scar he had always been told came from a childhood accident falling off a horse.
The room was dead silent.
The guests were staring, realizing they were witnessing the unravelling of the most powerful family in Chicago.
I stood near the serving station, my heart pounding against my ribs.
I needed to protect my job, but standing here, watching a family be torn apart by lies, my mother’s mortgage suddenly felt very far away.
Grace was sobbing quietly now.
I walked over and gently put my hand on her shoulder.
She leaned into me, terrified of the woman she had called Grandmother her entire life.
“Celia,” Luca said, his voice devoid of all emotion. “What happened to me at the hospital?”
Celia smoothed her dress, trying desperately to regain control of the room.
“You had a concussion. The doctors gave you sedatives. When you woke up, you were disoriented. I simply... filled in the blanks to protect you from the trauma.”
“You erased my memory of my sister’s darkest night,” Luca said, taking a step toward her. “You let me believe she abandoned us. You let me believe she didn't care.”
“She was a traitor to our blood!” Celia yelled, finally losing her composure entirely. “Marco Vieri was using her! He was going to leverage that baby to take half our territory! I saved this family!”
Anna shook her head.
“Marco loved me. He was leaving the mob. That’s why he was killed, wasn't it, Celia? Not because he was an enemy, but because he refused to play your game anymore.”
Celia glared at her, her silence answering the question perfectly.
“Get out,” Luca said.
Celia blinked. “What?”
“Get out of my house,” Luca repeated, pointing toward the heavy mahogany front doors. “Pack your things and leave.”
“You can’t kick me out,” Celia scoffed, though her hands were trembling. “I run the finances. I own half the properties. You are nothing without my connections, Luca.”
“I’ll burn the properties to the ground before I let you sleep another night under my roof,” Luca said.
He looked at his security guards.
“Escort her to her room. Give her ten minutes to pack a bag. Then throw her out.”
Two large men stepped forward and grabbed Celia by the arms.
“Take your hands off me!” she shrieked.
As they dragged her toward the stairs, Celia turned her head, fixing her venomous gaze on Anna.
“You think you’ve won?” Celia spat. “You think you can just waltz in here and take that girl? Ask her, Anna! Ask your precious daughter what she found in my safe last week!”
Anna froze.
The guards pulled Celia out of the room, her bitter laughter echoing down the hallway.
Luca turned to Grace, who was clutching my apron like a lifeline.
“Grace, sweetheart,” Luca said softly, crouching down to her eye level. “What is Celia talking about? What did you find in her safe?”
Grace looked at Luca, tears streaming down her pale cheeks.
She reached into the small pocket of her blue dress.
Her tiny fingers pulled out a folded, yellowed piece of paper.
“Grandma left the safe unlocked on Tuesday,” Grace whispered, her voice shaking. “I was looking for my passport for the school trip.”
She handed the paper to Luca.
Luca unfolded it.
His eyes scanned the document.
All the color drained from his face.
Anna stepped forward, terrified. “Luca? What is it?”
Luca didn’t look at his sister. He looked at me, his eyes wide with a fear I had never seen in a man of his power.
“Emma,” Luca ordered quietly. “Take Grace to the kitchen. Lock the door. Do not let anyone in.”
“What is it?” Anna cried, trying to grab the paper.
Luca pulled it away from her reach.
He looked at the thirty-four guests sitting at his table.
“Everyone out. Now.”
The guests scrambled to their feet, rushing for the coats and the exit.
“Luca, tell me!” Anna begged.
Luca looked at his sister, his voice breaking.
“This is a DNA report from thirteen years ago, Anna.”
May you like
He held up the yellowed paper.
“Marco Vieri wasn’t Grace’s father.”
