Chapter 2 - The Ring Beneath The Table
The dining room went completely silent.
Even the clinking of crystal glasses stopped. Thirty powerful, wealthy guests held their breath as Adrian Moretti stared down the length of the mahogany table.
His eyes were locked on his uncle.
Carlo Moretti was a sixty-year-old man with silver hair, tailored suits, and a reputation for being the quiet, stabilizing force behind the Moretti family empire.
He was Adrian’s most trusted advisor.
And his left hand had suddenly disappeared beneath the white tablecloth.
"Uncle Carlo," Adrian said. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a terrifying, absolute authority. "Put your hands on the table."
Carlo offered a tight, forced smile.
"Adrian, please. You're upsetting the guests over a child's imagination. The boy is confused."
"I'm not confused," Ben said softly, his little hand gripping my apron. "Daddy said the man had a ring with a black stone in the middle and diamonds around the edge. Just like hers."
Ben pointed at Isabella again.
Isabella’s face flushed with panic. She pulled her hand back, covering her diamond engagement ring. "Adrian, make them leave! She put him up to this. She wants money!"
I stepped in front of Ben, shielding him.
"I have never asked this family for a single dime," I said, my voice trembling but clear. "And my son does not lie."
Adrian didn't look at me. He didn't look at his fiancée.
He slowly walked toward the head of the table.
"Put your hands on the table, Carlo," Adrian repeated.
The older man hesitated. The polite smile vanished from his face, replaced by a cold, calculating stare.
"You would disrespect your own blood over a housemaid's bastard?" Carlo sneered.
Adrian didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to.
"Guards," Adrian commanded.
The two massive men at the doors stepped forward, their hands resting on the holsters beneath their jackets.
Carlo’s jaw clenched. Slowly, reluctantly, he brought his left hand up from his lap and placed it flat on the mahogany wood.
Resting on his pinky finger was a heavy, custom-made gold ring.
A square black onyx stone in the center.
Surrounded by a halo of small, glittering diamonds.
An exact, masculine match to the engagement ring Isabella was currently wearing.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Adrian stopped walking. He stared at the ring. The betrayal hit him so hard I could see the muscles in his back tense through his tailored suit.
"You," Adrian whispered, the realization fracturing his composure. "You told me Daniel took a bribe from the Chicago syndicate. You told me he drove my car into the river to cover his tracks."
Carlo shifted in his chair. "He was a traitor, Adrian. I handled it."
"He took a bullet for me!" Adrian roared, slamming his fist onto the table. The crystal glasses shattered. Guests gasped, several of them pushing their chairs back in terror.
Isabella stood up, her hands shaking. "Adrian, darling, you have to understand. Carlo was just protecting the family."
Adrian slowly turned his head toward his fiancée.
"You knew," he said softly.
Isabella swallowed hard. "Daniel was going to ruin everything. He was asking too many questions about the offshore accounts."
I couldn't breathe.
My husband wasn't a traitor. He was a hero who had discovered they were stealing from Adrian.
"Where is he?" I demanded, stepping forward, the fear suddenly burned away by a blinding, desperate anger. "Where is my husband?!"
Carlo laughed a dry, cruel sound. "He's nowhere you'll ever find him, sweetheart."
Suddenly, Carlo kicked his chair back. He grabbed a steak knife from the table and lunged not at Adrian, but at Ben.
"No!" I screamed, throwing my body over my son.
Adrian moved faster than I thought humanly possible. He vaulted over the corner of the table, tackling his uncle to the marble floor. The knife skittered across the tiles.
The guards rushed in, dragging Carlo to his feet and pinning his arms behind his back.
"Lock the estate!" Adrian barked, his chest heaving as he straightened his suit. "Nobody leaves. Put Carlo in the basement holding cell. And confine Isabella to the east wing."
"Adrian, you can't do this!" Isabella shrieked as a guard grabbed her arm. "I'm going to be your wife!"
"You are nothing to me," Adrian said coldly.
As the guards dragged Carlo away, the old man’s suit jacket caught on the edge of a chair and tore. A heavy object slipped from the inside pocket and hit the marble floor with a metallic clink.
Adrian knelt down and picked it up.
It was a tarnished silver pocket watch.
I gasped, pressing my hands to my mouth.
It was Daniel's watch. The one his grandfather had given him. The one he never left the house without.
Adrian popped the latch.
The hands were frozen at 11:42.
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But it wasn't the time that made Adrian’s face turn completely pale.
Tucked inside the cover of the watch was a small, blood-stained piece of paper. And the words written on it changed everything we believed.
