Chapter 3 - THE SHATTERED GLASS
The silver pocket watch sat on the white tablecloth, the shattered glass reflecting the chandelier's light like a broken mirror.
Luca picked it up. His hand, usually so steady, trembled violently.
“Dante’s watch,” Luca breathed.
Dante Moretti. Luca’s older brother. The heir to the syndicate who was supposedly assassinated in a gang war a decade ago.
Vanessa’s eyes darted toward the exits. The security guards at the doors had already drawn their weapons, silently blocking her escape.
“Where did you get this?” Luca demanded, stepping toward her. “How was this wrapped inside my son’s blanket?”
Vanessa backed into a serving cart, sending silverware crashing to the floor. “I don’t know! Catherine must have had it!”
“Catherine never met Dante!” Luca shouted. “He died three years before I even married her!”
Teresa slowly stood up, pushing past her physical weakness. Her eyes were fixed on the silver watch.
“There’s a latch on the back, Luca,” the elderly woman said, her voice shaking. “Open it.”
Luca turned the watch over. He dug his thumbnail into a small groove and popped the back casing open.
A small, folded piece of paper fell into his palm.
A ticket stub.
I leaned closer. It was a one-way train ticket to Montreal, dated the exact night Catherine’s car crashed.
But the name printed on it didn't say Catherine Moretti.
It said Vanessa Bellini.
Luca stared at the ticket. The realization hit him like a physical blow.
“You weren't Catherine’s nanny,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, absolute calm. “You were running away. You caused the accident.”
“No!” Vanessa screamed, panic consuming her. “Luca, I swear to God! I was running from him!”
“From who?”
“From Dante!”
The room gasped.
“Dante is dead,” Luca said, stepping closer.
“He’s not!” Vanessa cried, sliding down the wall and collapsing to her knees in her expensive red gown. “He faked his death ten years ago, Luca! He’s been running the syndicate’s offshore accounts from the shadows! He’s the one who wanted Catherine dead!”
I felt a cold sweat break out on the back of my neck.
“Why would my brother want my wife dead?” Luca asked.
“Because Catherine found the ledgers!” Vanessa sobbed. “She found out Dante was stealing from you! She was going to tell you the truth. She was trying to run away with Matteo to protect him, but Dante found out. He forced me to intercept her car!”
Teresa let out a heartbreaking wail. “My son killed my daughter-in-law?”
“He forced me!” Vanessa pleaded, reaching out for Luca’s legs. “He said he would kill me if I didn't run her off the road! I only saved Matteo because I knew Dante would kill him too!”
Luca looked down at her with absolute disgust. He stepped back, refusing to let her touch him.
“Where is my son, Vanessa?”
“He’s safe!” she cried. “I put him in a foster home under a fake name. I’ve been paying the foster parents to keep him hidden from Dante!”
Luca turned to his head of security. “Lock her in the basement. Nobody gets in or out.”
Two massive men grabbed Vanessa by her arms, dragging her screaming from the dining room.
Luca turned to his guests. “Get out. All of you.”
The forty wealthy elites scrambled for the doors in terrified silence. Within two minutes, the grand dining room was completely empty, save for Luca, Teresa, and me.
Luca stood by the table, staring blindly at the shattered watch.
Teresa collapsed back into her chair, weeping softly. I immediately knelt beside her, rubbing her back.
“Mr. Moretti,” I said quietly. “If your brother is alive, and he finds out Vanessa has been caught… he might go after Matteo.”
Luca snapped out of his trance. The lethal mafia boss returned to his eyes.
“He won’t touch my son,” Luca vowed.
He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Marco. Track Vanessa’s bank accounts. Find out where she’s been sending monthly payments. I want the address in five minutes.”
He hung up and looked at me.
“Hannah.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Take my mother upstairs. Lock the doors.”
“I’m coming with you,” Teresa insisted, trying to stand again. “That is my grandson.”
“Mom, it’s too dangerous. If Dante is involved, there will be a war tonight.”
“She can't stay here alone,” I blurted out. “If Dante has men watching this house, they’ll know you left.”
Luca hesitated. He looked at my fierce expression.
“You’re right,” Luca said. “Pack a bag. Both of you. We leave in ten minutes.”
I ran upstairs with Teresa, my heart pounding in my chest. I helped her pack a small overnight bag. Then I sprinted to my small servant's quarters to grab my own things.
As I opened my closet door, I froze.
Sitting on the floor of my closet was a small, ornate wooden box.
It was my mother’s jewelry box.
I fell to my knees and opened it. Inside, resting on the velvet lining, was a single, faded photograph.
It was a picture of my mother, taken five years ago.
But she wasn't alone in the photo.
Standing next to her, with his arm wrapped around her waist, was a man with a distinct scar over his left eye.
A man I had seen in old family portraits in this very mansion.
Dante Moretti.
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