Chapter 2 - The Silver Rosary on the Marble Floor
Luca’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it echoed like a gunshot through the silent dining room.
He didn't look at the twenty-eight wealthy guests standing near the banquet table. He didn't look at his mother, who was still weeping softly in her chair.
His dark eyes were locked entirely on Vanessa.
“What did you tell her?” he asked again.
Vanessa took a step back. The confident, sneering woman who had snatched the daisies from my daughter’s hands was completely gone. In her place was someone who suddenly realized she had pushed the wrong man too far.
“Luca, be reasonable,” Vanessa stammered, her hands fluttering in the air. “I was just trying to manage the staff. Emily has been distracted lately. I merely suggested to her daughter that—”
“You told a sixteen-year-old girl that her mother resented her existence.”
Luca stepped forward. The heavy crystal chandeliers caught the cold, sharp anger in his eyes.
“You told a deaf child that her own mother wished she could hear, simply to hurt my housekeeper. Because you couldn't stand the fact that my mother loves Grace more than she will ever love you.”
Vanessa’s face went completely bloodless. “That’s a lie! Emily is making it up to ruin our evening!”
I stayed on the floor, holding Grace tightly against my chest. My daughter’s face was buried in my shoulder. She was trembling so violently that my own hands shook as I stroked her dark hair.
I didn’t care about my job anymore. I didn't care about the mortgage, or the extra shifts, or the carefully arranged white roses on the table. All I cared about was the fact that a grown woman had tried to poison my daughter’s heart.
I looked up. “Grace doesn't lie,” I said, my voice thick with tears. “She doesn't know how to be cruel. That is something she would have to learn from you.”
Vanessa glared at me, her upper lip curling. “You ungrateful—”
“Daniel,” Luca interrupted, his voice slicing through the room.
His right-hand man stepped from the shadows near the grand double doors. Daniel was a tall, broad-shouldered man who usually handled the Moretti family’s private security.
“Yes, boss.”
“Get Miss Bellini’s coat,” Luca ordered without looking away from Vanessa. “And have her car brought to the front. She is no longer welcome in this house.”
The guests gasped. A murmur rippled through the room.
Vanessa’s mouth opened in shock. “Luca, you can’t be serious. We’re getting married!”
“We were getting married,” Luca corrected smoothly. He reached into his suit pocket, pulled out the velvet box containing the engagement ring, and placed it quietly on the dining table next to the broken yellow daisy. “Now, you are leaving.”
Humiliation flashed across Vanessa’s face, instantly replaced by sheer, toxic rage. She realized it was over. The wealth, the status, the Moretti name—it was all gone.
“Fine!” she snapped, her voice shrill. “If you want to throw away our future for a maid and a defective child, then go right ahead!”
Teresa gasped, covering her mouth.
Luca didn't shout. He didn't raise his hand. He simply stepped so close to Vanessa that she had to tilt her head back to look at him.
“If you ever speak of them that way again,” Luca whispered, “I will make sure you lose a lot more than a diamond ring.”
Vanessa swallowed hard, her bravado shattering. She spun around, nearly tripping over her expensive red satin gown, and stormed toward the hallway.
She snatched her beaded evening purse from the side table with such force that the delicate silver chain snagged on a heavy bronze candlestick.
The fabric tore.
Vanessa jerked the purse away, and half of its contents spilled onto the polished marble floor. A compact mirror shattered. A lipstick rolled under a chair.
And something heavy and metallic hit the floor with a distinct, ringing clatter.
I flinched.
It was a silver rosary.
It slid across the smooth marble, stopping less than two feet from where I was kneeling with Grace.
I stared at it. My breath caught in my throat.
The silver beads were tarnished, worn smooth from years of prayer. But it wasn't the beads that made my blood run cold. It was the crucifix. The left arm of the silver cross was slightly bent, and the third bead from the top was missing, replaced by a tiny, crude knot of black fishing line.
I knew that knot.
I had tied it myself, thirteen years ago.
It belonged to David. My husband.
It was the rosary he had been holding the night he packed his suitcase and walked out the door, claiming he was too overwhelmed to raise a deaf child. He never went anywhere without it.
Vanessa froze. She dropped to her knees, frantically sweeping her broken lipstick and the shattered mirror into her torn purse. She reached for the rosary.
But my hand shot out and pinned the silver cross to the marble.
Vanessa looked up at me. For a fraction of a second, I saw absolute, naked terror in her eyes.
“Where did you get this?” I whispered.
Vanessa tried to yank it out from under my palm. “Let go of me, you crazy woman! It’s mine!”
“No, it isn't,” I said, my voice rising. I picked it up, my fingers tracing the black fishing line. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. “This belongs to my husband. The husband who disappeared thirteen years ago.”
The entire room went dead silent.
Luca stepped closer, his gaze dropping to the silver beads in my hand. “Emily? Are you sure?”
“I tied this knot,” I said, looking up at him, tears of shock welling in my eyes. “He had this in his pocket the night he left us.”
I turned my head slowly to look at Vanessa. She was still kneeling, her face pale, her breathing shallow and fast.
She hadn't just been cruel to my daughter tonight. She was hiding something much, much darker.
Grace tugged gently on my sleeve. She pointed at Vanessa's torn purse, her fingers moving quickly.
Mom, look at the lining.
I looked down. Where the silk of the purse had torn, a small, folded piece of paper had slipped out. It was yellowed with age.
Before Vanessa could grab it, Daniel reached down and picked it up. He unfolded it.
His face hardened. He handed it to Luca.
May you like
Luca read the paper, his jaw tightening. Then he looked at Vanessa, his eyes colder than I had ever seen them.
“Vanessa,” Luca said softly. “Why do you have a bank receipt with Emily’s husband’s signature on it, dated three days after he supposedly ran away?”
