Chapter 3 - The Sins of the Mother
The crystal chandelier above us seemed to sway, casting sharp, fractured light across Matteo’s face. He looked like a man who had just been shot but hadn't quite felt the bullet yet.
“My half-sister,” Matteo repeated, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.
Vanessa stopped fighting the guards. She collapsed to her knees on the marble floor, the red silk pooling around her. “I didn’t know!” she sobbed, her voice tearing through the silence. “Matteo, I swear to God, I only found out two days ago! She told me right before the fitting for my wedding dress!”
Matteo didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. His dark eyes were locked entirely on Beatrice, the woman who had birthed him, abandoned him, and then returned in disguise to orchestrate his destruction.
“Is it true?” Matteo asked his mother, his voice drained of all emotion.
Beatrice picked up her wine glass, her hand perfectly steady. She took a slow sip of the deep red cabernet before setting it down. “Her father was a powerful man. Much more powerful than Arthur ever was. When he died last year, I needed a way to consolidate his empire with ours. Marrying Vanessa to you was the most efficient strategy.”
“She is my blood!” Matteo roared, slamming both hands down on the mahogany table. Silverware clattered. A wine glass tipped over, bleeding into the white linen. “You would have let me marry my own flesh and blood for power?”
“Power requires sacrifice,” Beatrice said coldly. “Something your father never understood. It’s why I had to get rid of him eight years ago.”
Arthur stood near the doorway, looking smaller than ever in his battered coat. But there was a quiet dignity to him.
I pulled Caleb firmly behind my legs. We needed to leave. This was a family war, and servants who witnessed wars rarely survived them. I quietly stepped backward, inching toward the swinging doors of the kitchen.
“Stop right there.”
Beatrice’s sharp command wasn’t directed at Matteo. It was directed at me.
The security guards near the door immediately blocked my path. My breath caught in my throat. I held Caleb’s hand so tightly I feared I might hurt him.
“You,” Beatrice said, turning her icy gaze toward me. “The little waitress with the generous brat. How much did Arthur pay you to orchestrate this little reunion?”
“Nothing,” I said, my voice trembling but my chin high. “I didn't know who he was. My son just shared his sandwich with a lonely man.”
Beatrice let out a dry, mocking laugh. “Please. A single mother working minimum wage doesn't do anything for free. You knew exactly who he was. You’re trying to extort us.”
“Leave her out of this,” Arthur stepped forward, his voice firm. “Clara has nothing to do with our family’s sins. Let her and the boy go.”
Matteo stood up straight. He looked at me, then at Caleb, who was peeking out from behind my apron. The anger in Matteo’s eyes softened just a fraction when he looked at my son.
“Let them pass,” Matteo ordered his guards.
The guards hesitated, glancing nervously between Matteo and Beatrice.
“I am the head of this family,” Matteo said, his voice dangerously low. “Move.”
The guards stepped aside. I breathed a sigh of relief and ushered Caleb forward. “Come on, baby. We’re going home.”
But Caleb stopped. He planted his little sneakers on the marble floor and refused to move.
“Caleb, please,” I begged, pulling his arm.
“Wait,” Caleb said. He pointed his small finger at Beatrice’s chest. “Mr. Arthur, is that the lady who took the shiny thing?”
The room went still again.
Beatrice’s hand instinctively flew to her throat, covering the high collar of her silk dress.
Arthur’s eyes widened. “Caleb, you shouldn't—”
“Mr. Arthur told me about a shiny thing,” Caleb said to Matteo, his voice clear and innocent. “He said he bought a special necklace for his wife a long time ago. It had a big green stone in the middle. He said he hid it before he went away, but someone stole it.”
Matteo’s eyes narrowed. He looked at his mother’s hand, pressed tightly against her collar.
“Mother,” Matteo said. “What is he talking about?”
“The child is babbling,” Beatrice snapped, her composure finally showing cracks. “He’s making up stories to get attention.”
Matteo walked slowly around the table. He stopped right in front of Beatrice. He was twice her size, radiating a quiet, lethal energy.
“Show me your neck,” he demanded.
“Do not speak to me with that tone, Matteo. I am your mother.”
“And I am the man whose life you just tried to destroy.” Matteo reached out. Beatrice tried to swat his hand away, but he was too fast. He grabbed the high silk collar of her dress and pulled it down just enough.
Resting against her collarbone was a heavy gold chain, holding a massive, square-cut emerald.
I gasped. I had seen that necklace before. Not on Beatrice.
Matteo stared at the emerald. “Father gave you this for your tenth anniversary. I remember it.”
Arthur shook his head sadly from the doorway. “I didn't give it to her, Matteo. I hid that necklace in my floor safe before the night I disappeared. The only person who had the combination besides me… was my driver.”
My blood ran completely cold.
Matteo turned to look at Arthur. “Your driver? David?”
I felt the room spin. The floor seemed to drop out from beneath my feet.
David.
My husband. Caleb’s father.
He had died in a hit-and-run accident eight years ago, the exact same week Arthur Moretti had supposedly drowned in the river.
May you like
Beatrice’s face twisted into a cruel, victorious smile. She looked right at me.
“Yes, Clara,” Beatrice whispered. “Did you really think your husband died by accident?”
