Chapter 2 - The Old Man In The Faded Coat
“And Dad is downstairs right now. She told him to wait there until you were ready to thank him.”
The silence in the dining room was absolute.
Thirty-eight of Chicago’s most powerful people stared at Victoria.
Matteo didn’t blink. His dark eyes remained fixed on his fiancée.
“Grace,” Matteo said, his voice dangerously quiet.
I stepped forward. “Yes, Mr. Russo?”
“Go downstairs. Bring Mr. Hayes to the dining room.”
Victoria lunged forward, grabbing Matteo’s arm.
“No! Matteo, you can’t. He’s unwell. He’s confused. He won’t understand—”
Matteo didn’t raise his voice, but the sudden coldness in his tone made several guests step back.
“Take your hand off my jacket, Victoria.”
She froze, slowly pulling her fingers away.
Matteo turned to me. “Bring him up. Now.”
I hurried out of the dining room, my heart hammering against my ribs.
The grand marble staircase felt miles long. When I reached the foyer, I saw him.
He was sitting on a velvet bench near the front doors, looking incredibly small in the cavernous entranceway.
He wore a faded brown tweed coat that was entirely too thin for the Chicago winter. His hands rested on a wooden cane.
When he saw me, he stood up. His knees shook slightly, but he offered a warm, hopeful smile.
“Excuse me, miss,” he said, his voice raspy. “Did Victoria send you? Am I allowed to see the young man now?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yes, Mr. Hayes. He’s ready to see you.”
He let out a breath of relief, clutching a small, worn velvet box in his trembling hands.
“Thank goodness. I know how busy he is. I didn't want to intrude on the wedding planning.”
I gently offered my arm to help him up the stairs.
“You’re a very kind girl,” he whispered as we climbed. “Victoria always said she hired the best staff.”
My chest tightened. She told him she owned the house.
When we reached the dining room doors, I pushed them open.
The room was dead silent.
Arthur Hayes limped inside, his worn shoes scuffing the expensive Persian rug.
Andrew immediately rushed forward. “Dad.”
“Andrew, my boy,” Arthur said, patting his son’s shoulder. “I told you to wait in the car. You didn’t embarrass your sister, did you?”
Andrew choked back a sob. “No, Dad. I didn't.”
Arthur looked past his son and saw Victoria in her thousand-dollar satin gown. His eyes lit up with absolute adoration.
“Oh, my beautiful girl,” he whispered. “You look just like your mother did.”
Victoria stared at the floor, unable to meet his eyes.
Then, Arthur turned to Matteo.
The fearsome mafia boss stood frozen at the head of the table.
Arthur took off his old tweed cap and bowed his head slightly.
“Mr. Russo,” Arthur said softly. “It is an absolute honor to finally meet you.”
Matteo stared at the frail old man who had given up everything he owned for a lie.
“Mr. Hayes,” Matteo said, his voice uncharacteristically thick.
Arthur stepped closer, holding out the worn velvet box.
“Victoria told me about your mother’s illness,” Arthur said, his eyes filled with genuine sorrow. “Cancer is a terrible thief. It took my own wife from me.”
Several guests looked away.
“I know the money I sent wasn’t enough to cover the whole surgery,” Arthur continued. “But Victoria said it kept her in the private ward for another month. That brings me peace.”
Matteo’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek.
He didn’t look at Victoria. He didn’t correct the old man.
Instead, Matteo gently took the velvet box from Arthur’s trembling hands.
“Thank you, Arthur,” Matteo whispered.
Arthur smiled, tears pooling in his wrinkles. “Inside is my late wife’s wedding bracelet. I wanted Victoria to wear it today.”
Matteo opened the box.
But it wasn’t a bracelet.
Inside was a folded piece of heavy black paper, sealed with red wax.
Matteo’s face drained of color.
Arthur frowned. “That’s strange. Victoria told me she put the jewelry in there for safekeeping.”
Matteo broke the seal and unfolded the paper.
I was standing close enough to see the handwriting. It was written in thick, crimson ink.
May you like
We know where the money really went, Matteo. And we know who Grace really is.
Matteo’s head snapped up, his dark eyes locking directly onto mine.
