Chapter 2 - The Man Sitting Two Chairs Away
The dining room of the Moretti mansion was so quiet I could hear the rain hitting the tall glass windows.
Thirty-four guests held their breath.
Daniel’s small finger was pointing directly at Victor.
Victor Moretti. Luca’s older brother. The man who ran the family’s legitimate businesses and had practically raised Luca after their father died.
Victor slowly put down his crystal wine glass. He didn't look at Daniel. He looked at his brother.
“Luca,” Victor said smoothly, his voice a deep, reassuring rumble. “The boy is confused. He’s grieving. Don't do this here.”
But Luca’s eyes were fixed on the space beneath the table.
“Move your chair back, Victor.”
Vanessa’s face lost all its color. “Darling, please. People are watching.”
“I said, move your chair back.”
Victor hesitated. Then, with a scrape of wood against marble, he pushed his chair back.
His left hand was resting on Vanessa’s knee, his fingers intertwined with hers.
A collective gasp rippled through the guests.
Luca didn’t yell. He didn’t flip the table. For a man who controlled half the city, his stillness was far more terrifying. He simply stared at their joined hands.
“How long?” Luca asked.
Victor slowly removed his hand, brushing off his suit jacket. “It’s not what it looks like, little brother. Vanessa was just frightened. She needed comfort.”
“She needed comfort because my eleven-year-old son recognized you from the day you threatened his mother?” Luca’s voice dropped to a lethal whisper.
I stepped closer to Daniel, gently placing my hands on his shoulders. He leaned back against me, trembling.
“He’s lying,” Vanessa blurted out, her voice pitching high. “Isabella told him to say this! She’s trying to ruin our wedding, Luca! She’s jealous!”
“Mommy doesn't lie!” Daniel shouted, clutching his blue scarf. “She said Uncle Victor took her passport! She said he told her if she ever came back, Daddy would get hurt!”
Luca turned his gaze to Victor. “You took her passport?”
“She sold her passport, Luca,” Victor said coldly, dropping the supportive brother act. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, tossing it onto the dining table. “I was trying to protect you. Isabella didn't want to be a mother anymore. She wanted a way out. I gave her one.”
Luca picked up the paper.
“A wire transfer,” Victor explained to the silent room. “Two million dollars. Sent to an offshore account in her name, signed by her, the day she left. She sold her family, Luca. Vanessa and I just cleaned up the mess so you wouldn't have to see it.”
I looked at the piece of paper in Luca’s hand.
Answer one. Open two.
Victor had been the one to get rid of Isabella. But if she took the money, why was she crying outside the gate on Daniel’s birthday?
Luca stared at the paper. The betrayal in his eyes was heavy, a suffocating grief. He looked at Daniel. “Buddy… is this true? Did Mommy say she took money?”
Daniel shook his head frantically. “No! She said they made her sign things!”
Vanessa sneered, stepping away from Victor to stand taller. “And you believe a child who wants his mommy back over a legal bank document? Luca, grow up. She took the cash.”
Luca looked crushed. The paper seemed undeniable.
But from where I stood, I could see the bottom of the document. I could see the signature.
I had spent the last eleven months sorting the Moretti mail. I had seen Isabella’s old letters. I knew her handwriting.
“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered.
Everyone looked at me.
“Hannah, stay out of this,” Vanessa hissed.
I ignored her. I looked directly at Luca. “That’s not Isabella’s signature.”
Victor’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve seen Mrs. Moretti’s handwriting on Daniel’s old permission slips,” I said, my heart hammering against my ribs. “She loops her L’s. That signature is slanted.”
Luca quickly brought the paper closer to his face.
Victor took a sudden step toward me, his face twisting with rage. “You little rat—”
“Victor,” Luca snapped, holding up his hand. He looked at his brother, the realization dawning in his dark eyes. “She’s right. This isn't Isabella’s writing.”
Luca turned to Vanessa. “But it looks exactly like yours.”
Vanessa froze.
Before she could speak, Daniel tugged on my apron.
“Hannah,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Look at her wrist.”
I looked.
And my blood ran cold.
Vanessa was wearing a delicate, vintage gold bracelet with a small diamond clasp.
“Where did you get that?” Luca asked, following our gaze to Vanessa’s wrist.
Vanessa covered the bracelet with her other hand. “Victor gave it to me. For my birthday.”
“No,” Daniel cried out. “That’s Mommy’s! Daddy gave it to Mommy when I was born!”
Luca stepped toward his fiancée. “Take it off.”
Vanessa backed away, terrified. “Luca, please—”
“TAKE IT OFF!”
She fumbled with the clasp, dropping the gold bracelet onto the table. Luca picked it up. He turned it over.
Engraved on the back were three words: Forever my Isabella.
Luca looked at Vanessa, then at Victor.
“Where is my wife?” Luca asked, his voice shaking with a rage that shook the floorboards.
Victor smiled, a cruel, cold expression.
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“You’re never going to find her, Luca. Because she isn't in California.” Victor straightened his tie. “She’s in the trunk of a car at the bottom of the Chicago River.”
TITLE: The Coat in the Hallway
