Chapter 6 - THE LETTER IN THE BIBLE
The attic was dead silent, save for the hum of the single overhead bulb.
Vanessa tapped the heavy bronze poker against her open palm. The dull thwack echoed in the dusty space.
“I always knew Elena was hiding something,” Vanessa said, her eyes locked on the plastic bag in my lap. “She was too quiet at the end. Too accepting. But I never figured out where she put it.”
I scrambled backward on the floorboards, clutching the bag to my chest.
“You’re not going to get away with this,” I said, my voice shaking. “Luca knows I’m up here.”
It was a bluff, and Vanessa knew it.
She smiled, a cold, predatory stretching of her red lips.
“Luca is downstairs pouring himself a scotch, trying to figure out how to apologize to me for embarrassing us in front of his investors,” she said, stepping closer. “He thinks you’re a thief, Rachel. Remember the cloakroom? If you fall down these stairs holding a bag of stolen jewelry, it just proves my point.”
She raised the poker slightly.
“Now. Give it to me.”
Panic flared in my chest. If she got the bag, she would destroy the nursing logs. She would destroy the pawn receipts. The proof of what she did to Elena would be gone forever.
And my sister’s abuser would walk free.
I looked wildly around the attic. There was no other exit. Just the stairs behind her.
“You drugged her,” I whispered, stalling for time. “You kept her sedated so she couldn’t tell him.”
“She was dying anyway!” Vanessa snapped, her facade finally cracking, revealing the ugly, bitter rage underneath. “She was in pain! I did her a favor. And in return, I took the life she wasn't using anymore. Luca needed someone to take care of him. I stepped in. I earned that diamond.”
“You pried it out of a dead woman’s ring,” I said in disgust.
“And he put it right back on my finger,” she mocked, holding up her left hand. The stolen diamond caught the dim light. “He doesn't even know. Because men only see what they want to see.”
She lunged forward, swinging the poker toward my shoulder.
I rolled hard to the left.
The heavy bronze slammed into the wooden floorboards, splintering the wood exactly where I had just been sitting.
Vanessa let out a frustrated growl and pulled the poker back up.
I scrambled to my feet, knocking over a stack of cardboard boxes between us. They cascaded down, spilling old Christmas ornaments and books, blocking her path for a split second.
“Help!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Luca! Help!”
“Shut up!” Vanessa hissed, scrambling over the boxes.
She swung again, catching me across the ribs.
Pain exploded in my side. I gasped and stumbled backward, crashing into a heavy standing mirror. The glass shattered, raining down around me.
I clutched the plastic bag tightly, refusing to let it go.
Vanessa stood over me, her chest heaving, the poker raised above her head for a final strike.
“You should have just kept your mouth shut and folded the laundry,” she sneered.
She brought the poker down.
“Vanessa!”
The voice roared from the top of the stairs like thunder.
The poker stopped inches from my face.
Vanessa froze, her eyes going wide.
She slowly turned around.
Standing at the top of the narrow attic stairs, breathing heavily, was Luca.
And right beside him, gripping his hand with white knuckles, was Emma.
Emma’s face was pale with terror.
Answer one: Luca hadn’t stayed downstairs.
Open two: How did he know to come up here?
Teresa walked up the last few steps behind them. She looked at the shattered mirror, at me cowering on the floor, and at Vanessa holding a weapon.
“I told you, Luca,” Teresa said quietly. “I told you she was a monster.”
Vanessa dropped the poker. It clattered loudly against the wood.
Her face instantly transformed into a mask of pure, frantic victimhood.
“Luca, thank God!” she cried out, her voice trembling with fake tears. “She attacked me! Rachel went crazy! She was trying to steal your mother’s things, and when I caught her, she pushed me into the boxes!”
Luca didn’t look at the boxes.
He didn’t look at the shattered mirror.
He walked slowly across the attic, his eyes locked on Vanessa.
“Is that right?” he asked, his voice dead flat.
“Yes!” Vanessa sobbed, reaching out for his arm. “She’s dangerous, Luca. We have to call the police!”
Luca stopped just out of her reach.
He looked down at me.
“Rachel,” he said quietly. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay, sir,” I gasped, holding my bruised ribs.
“What is in the bag?” he asked.
Vanessa’s head snapped toward me. Pure panic flooded her eyes.
“It’s stolen jewelry!” Vanessa shouted, stepping between Luca and me. “Don't look at it, Luca, she’ll just lie to you!”
“Step aside, Vanessa,” Luca said.
“Luca, please—”
“I said step aside!” he roared.
The sheer force of his voice made Vanessa flinch. She backed away, her hands shaking.
Luca knelt beside me in the broken glass.
I didn't say a word. I just handed him the plastic bag.
He opened it.
He pulled out the empty vintage ring setting. He recognized it instantly. The color drained from his face.
Then he pulled out the pawn receipts. He read the dates. He read the descriptions of Elena’s missing jewelry.
Finally, he pulled out the small spiral notebook.
He opened it.
He read the first page. Then the second.
His hands began to shake.
The silence in the attic was suffocating. I watched a man realize that the last months of his wife’s life had been a chemical prison designed by the woman he was about to marry.
Luca closed the notebook.
He stood up very slowly.
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He didn't yell. He didn't scream.
He turned to Vanessa, grabbed her left hand, and violently stripped the engagement ring off her finger.
