Chapter 2 - THE SIGNATURE ON THE EMPLOYMENT FORMS
The dining room of the Moretti mansion was so quiet I could hear the ice shifting inside the crystal water glasses.
Forty guests stared at us.
Luca Moretti didn't look at them. He kept his dark eyes locked on Richard Bellini, the man I was supposed to call my father.
"Answer the question, Richard," Luca said. His voice was calm, but it carried a weight that made the temperature in the room drop. "What does this maid's childhood have to do with my marriage?"
Richard looked at Vanessa. His face was pale.
"Tell him, Vanessa," Richard whispered. "Tell him what you made her sign."
Vanessa’s emerald-green gown suddenly looked too heavy for her. She took a step backward, her perfectly manicured hands trembling.
"Dad, don't do this," she pleaded. "I did it for us. For the family."
"You did it for yourself," Richard said, his voice breaking. He turned to me, his eyes filled with a desperate, agonizing regret. "Maggie, when I left you and your mother fourteen years ago, I didn't abandon you. I was forced."
My chest tightened. "Forced by who?"
"By my father," Richard answered. "The former head of the Bellini syndicate. He found out I had a child with a civilian woman. He told me if I didn't leave Evelyn, he would have her killed."
Tears spilled over my cheeks.
Fourteen years of thinking I wasn't enough. Fourteen years of watching my mother cry quietly at the kitchen table, pretending she was just tired from her nursing shifts.
"I made a deal with him," Richard continued, his voice shaking. "I agreed to marry Vanessa's mother and return to the syndicate. In exchange, my father put a trust fund in your name. To ensure you and Evelyn would always be cared for."
I shook my head. "We never got a dime."
"I know," Richard whispered. "Because when my father died nine months ago, the trust automatically activated. It transferred half of the Bellini empire into your name."
The silence in the room shattered.
Gasps echoed from the dinner guests.
Luca took a slow step forward. "Half the empire?"
"Yes," Richard said. "The shipping ports. The downtown real estate. The very assets you required for this marriage, Luca."
Luca looked at Vanessa. The realization was lethal.
"You don't own the dowry," Luca said quietly.
Vanessa panicked. "Luca, I can explain! She's a maid! She doesn't know how to run a syndicate! I was protecting the assets!"
"By hiring her to clean my floors?" Luca demanded.
"By making her sign the employee liability forms," Richard interrupted. He looked at me with devastating sorrow. "Maggie... when you started working here, did human resources give you a stack of paperwork?"
My blood ran cold.
Nine months ago. My first day. Vanessa had personally handed me a thick stack of papers. She told me it was standard non-disclosure agreements for working in a high-profile home.
"I signed them," I whispered.
"They weren't liability forms," Richard said. "They were asset transfer documents. You signed your entire birthright over to Vanessa."
I stumbled backward, hitting the edge of the serving cart.
She hadn't just humiliated me. She had stolen the very money my mother desperately needed for her knee surgeries. She had watched me scrub her floors while she wore dresses paid for by my inheritance.
"You thief," I breathed.
Vanessa’s face twisted with pure venom. "You didn't deserve it! You're a bastard child! You grew up in the slums!"
"Enough," Luca’s voice cracked like a whip.
He didn't yell, but the absolute authority in his tone made Vanessa flinch.
Luca turned to his head of security, a massive man standing near the door. "Daniel. Go to the home office. Bring me the employment file for Margaret Ellis."
"Luca, wait," Vanessa begged, reaching for his arm.
Luca stepped out of her reach. "Do not touch me."
"We are supposed to be married in three weeks!"
"We were," Luca corrected.
Vanessa’s eyes widened in terror.
But as Daniel walked out of the room, Richard Bellini suddenly collapsed against the table, clutching his chest.
"Dad!" Vanessa screamed.
I rushed forward instinctively, catching him before he hit the hardwood floor.
"Richard?" I cried, my nursing instincts kicking in. "Somebody call an ambulance!"
Richard gripped my apron weakly. He looked up at me, his breathing ragged and shallow.
"Maggie," he gasped, his fingers trembling as he reached into his jacket pocket. "I... I tried to fix it. I brought proof."
He pulled out a faded, old photograph and pressed it into my hand.
May you like
"Look at the back," he whispered, before his eyes rolled back and he lost consciousness.
TITLE: THE PHOTOGRAPH IN THE AMBULANCE
