Chapter 2 - THE SILVER LOCKET'S SECRET
Luca stared at Grace Bennett, the silence in the dining room growing so heavy I could hear the grandfather clock ticking in the hallway.
“What did you say?” Luca’s voice was barely a whisper.
“My father said a little girl disappeared from this house,” Grace repeated, her hands trembling as she held Sophie’s shoulders. “He told me that if the Morettis ever heard that lullaby, they would take my daughter away, too.”
Vanessa let out a sharp, mocking laugh.
“Luca, this is absurd. The woman is clearly unstable. First she crashes our dinner, now she’s inventing ghost stories about your family.”
But Luca didn’t look at Vanessa. His eyes were locked on Grace.
For the eleven months I’d worked at the Moretti mansion, I’d never seen Luca look truly rattled. He was a man who controlled Chicago’s underground and legitimate shipping empires with a calm, terrifying precision.
Now, he looked like a man who had just seen a ghost.
“There was a little girl,” Luca said softly. “My older half-sister, Isabella. She vanished when I was four years old. The police said she ran away. My father forbade us from ever speaking of her again.”
Vanessa stepped forward, her red silk gown rustling.
“Darling, that was thirty years ago. This maid and this cleaning woman are just trying to manipulate you. Giovanni, tell him.”
But the Italian gentleman remained standing, his expression grave.
“Mr. Moretti,” Giovanni said quietly. “Your father’s instructions were very specific. The inheritance was not just money. It was the deed to the Florence estate, and the controlling shares of the Moretti Foundation.”
Vanessa’s face tightened. I saw her hand slip toward the small silver clutch on the table.
I remembered what I’d overheard earlier. Vanessa had needed Sophie out of the country before Luca found out who she was. If Sophie inherited the Foundation, Vanessa would lose control of the millions she’d been siphoning into her own accounts.
In her haste to grab her purse, Vanessa knocked over a crystal wine glass.
It shattered against the marble floor.
And something metallic slipped from her clutch, bouncing across the floor until it stopped right at my feet.
It was a heavy silver locket.
Before Vanessa could stop me, I bent down and picked it up.
“Give that back, you little brat,” Vanessa hissed, lunging toward me.
But Luca stepped between us. He held out his hand.
“Emily. Give it to me.”
I placed the cold silver in his palm.
Luca stared at the intricate engraving on the front. It was a crest. A crest I recognized from the iron gates of the mansion.
“This was my mother’s,” Luca said, his voice dropping an octave. “It went missing the week she died.”
Vanessa swallowed, her perfect posture suddenly rigid. “I found it in the attic, Luca. I was going to have it polished for you.”
Luca pressed the small clasp on the side. The locket popped open.
He looked at the photograph inside. And the blood drained completely from his face.
“Luca?” Vanessa reached out. “What is it?”
He swatted her hand away, his eyes blazing with a fury that made the nearest guests physically back away.
He turned the locket so Grace could see it.
“Mrs. Bennett,” Luca said, his voice shaking. “Who is the man in this photograph?”
Grace gasped. She covered her mouth with her hand.
“That’s my father,” she whispered. “Thomas.”
I leaned closer. The small, faded photograph showed a young Thomas Bennett.
But he wasn't alone.
He was holding a little girl with dark curls.
“That’s Isabella,” Luca said softly. “My missing sister.”
The room erupted into murmurs. Vanessa took a step back toward the door.
“He kidnapped her,” Vanessa said quickly, her voice rising in pitch. “Your sister was kidnapped by this woman’s father! This proves it!”
But Grace was shaking her head frantically.
“No! My father was a good man. He loved children. He taught music!”
“He was a criminal!” Vanessa shouted.
“Enough!” Luca roared, the command echoing off the vaulted ceilings.
He looked down at nine-year-old Sophie, who was clutching her grandfather’s violin case to her chest.
“Grace,” Luca said, his tone dangerously calm. “If your father raised my sister... then who is Sophie’s mother?”
Grace looked at the floor, tears spilling over her cheeks.
“It’s not what you think,” she sobbed.
“Answer him!” Vanessa demanded.
Grace slowly reached into her worn purse. Her hands were shaking violently as she pulled out a folded, yellowed piece of paper.
“I’m not Sophie’s biological mother,” Grace whispered.
May you like
She handed the paper to Luca.
“I’m her aunt.”
