Chapter 3 - THE SIGNATURE WRITTEN IN BLOOD
Elena Moretti didn’t flinch.
The matriarch of the Moretti family sat with her hands elegantly folded over her silver-handled cane. At sixty-five, she possessed a chilling, untouchable grace. She wore a high-necked black gown, her silver hair pulled back into a flawless twist.
She looked down at the forged signature on the table.
Then, she looked at me.
“I did what was necessary, Luca,” Elena said, her voice smooth and unbothered. “The foundation needed a compelling narrative. Vanessa lacked the authority to authorize the transfer of funds. I simply expedited the process.”
My legs felt weak. I gripped the back of Mia’s chair to keep myself standing.
“You forged my mother’s name?” I asked, my voice trembling. “You paid Vanessa to humiliate my sister?”
Elena finally met my eyes. There was no pity in them. Only a cold, calculating assessment.
“I secured your sister’s future, Natalie. A hundred thousand dollars in a trust fund for her college tuition. You think dignity pays the rent? I gave you exactly what you needed.”
Mia pulled urgently at my sleeve.
What is the old woman saying?
I swallowed the lump in my throat and signed it to her, my hands shaking so badly I could barely form the letters.
Mia’s face crumpled. She looked at the luxurious room around us, the wealthy guests staring at her like she was an exhibit in a museum.
I don’t want their money, Mia signed fiercely, tears streaking her cheeks. I just want our dad’s bracelet back.
Luca was still holding the silver woven metal. His jaw ticked. The tattoos on his neck seemed to shift as his muscles coiled with suppressed rage.
“You knew,” Luca said to his mother, his voice dangerously calm. “You knew whose bracelet this was. You knew who these girls were.”
Vanessa practically threw herself toward Luca, her eyes wide with desperation. “Luca, please! Your mother orchestrated the whole thing! She gave me the bracelet to hold onto—she said it was collateral!”
“Collateral for what?” Luca snapped.
Elena slammed her cane against the marble floor. The sharp crack made several guests jump.
“Enough!” Elena commanded. She stood up, her dark eyes flashing. “This is a private family matter. The guests will leave. Now.”
Nobody argued with Elena Moretti. Within sixty seconds, the dining room was a flurry of hushed whispers and scraping chairs. The city’s elite hurried out the double doors, desperate to escape the mafia family’s collapsing facade.
Soon, the massive room was empty, save for Luca, Vanessa, Elena, Mia, and me.
The silence left behind was suffocating.
Luca turned to Vanessa. He didn’t shout. He didn’t raise a hand. He just looked at her with a cold, hollow emptiness that was far more terrifying than anger.
“The engagement is over, Vanessa. Pack your things and get out of my house.”
Vanessa let out a choked sob. “Luca, you can’t! My family—our fathers made a deal! You need the Bellini money to legitimize the foundation!”
“I don’t need anything built on the tears of a sixteen-year-old girl,” Luca said. “Get out.”
Vanessa looked at him, realizing he meant every word. Her sorrow instantly twisted into vicious, cornered panic.
“You think you’re so righteous?” Vanessa spat, backing away toward the door. “You think you’re protecting them? You’re a fool, Luca. The foundation isn’t building libraries. Look at the real ledgers. Look at what your mother has been doing under your name!”
She turned on her heel and ran out of the room, her heels clicking frantically against the marble.
Luca didn’t chase her. He turned to his mother.
“What ledgers, Mother?”
Elena refused to answer. She maintained her icy composure, staring straight ahead.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I stepped out from behind Mia’s chair.
“Mr. Moretti,” I said, my voice cracking. “Please. I just want my father’s bracelet. We’ll leave. You’ll never see us again.”
Luca looked at me. The hardness in his eyes melted into something that looked agonizingly close to regret.
He walked over to me, closing the distance between us. He gently took my hand, his rough thumb brushing against my knuckles, and pressed the silver bracelet into my palm.
“You’re not leaving, Natalie,” he said softly.
I looked up at him, my breath catching in my throat. “Why?”
Luca reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He pulled out a worn, leather-bound file and placed it on the table in front of me.
“Because of this.”
I opened the file.
Inside was a single, faded photograph.
It was a picture of a younger Luca, maybe twenty years old. He was standing in front of a warehouse, smiling.
But it was the man standing next to him that made my heart stop beating.
It was my father.
With his arm slung happily around Luca’s shoulders.
I gasped, stumbling backward. “How… how do you know my father?”
May you like
Before Luca could answer, Elena stepped forward, stepping directly into the chandelier’s light. She reached into her pocket and placed a heavy, tarnished iron key on top of the photograph.
“He knows him,” Elena said coldly, “because your father didn’t die in a random robbery, Natalie. He died because he worked for us.”
