Chapter 2 - The Photograph In The Envelope
Matteo stared at the sealed envelope in his hand.
His father’s handwriting was unmistakable. Bold. Sharp. Unforgiving.
FOR MATTEO—WHEN HE LEARNS THE TRUTH.
Lauren’s face lost the last trace of its color.
She took a step backward, her designer heels scraping against the hardwood floor.
“Matteo, don’t open that,” she whispered.
“Why?” Matteo’s voice was dangerously quiet.
“Your father was sick before he died. His mind was slipping. He wrote terrible things.”
Rose stood taller beside me.
“My husband’s mind was sharper than yours until his last breath.”
Matteo didn’t look at Lauren again.
He tore the thick paper open.
The dining room of the Russo estate was entirely silent. Forty guests held their breath.
I stood close to Rose, feeling her trembling hand grip my apron string.
Matteo pulled out a single sheet of heavy parchment.
He read it once. Then twice.
The muscles in his jaw tightened into iron.
“Answer me carefully,” Matteo said, keeping his eyes on the paper. “When did you first meet my brother?”
Lauren swallowed.
“Two years ago. At the charity gala.”
Matteo slowly raised his head.
“My father died three years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Then why does his letter say you and Anthony have been sharing a bank account in the Cayman Islands for six years?”
A collective gasp swept through the room.
Anthony took a step toward the door.
“Matteo, listen to me—”
“I’m listening,” Matteo said. “I’m listening to a dead man tell me that the woman wearing my ring has been sleeping with my brother for nearly a decade.”
Lauren began to cry.
“That’s a lie! Carlo hated me!”
“He didn’t hate you,” Matteo replied coldly. “He investigated you.”
Matteo reached into the envelope again.
“He found out exactly why you targeted our family.”
He pulled out a small, faded photograph and dropped it onto the white tablecloth.
I looked down.
It was a picture of Lauren and Anthony standing on a beach.
But they weren’t alone.
Lauren was holding a little girl with bright green eyes and dark curls.
And pinned to the collar of the little girl’s winter coat was Rose’s missing ruby brooch.
Rose stopped breathing.
“My grandmother’s brooch.”
Matteo looked at his brother.
“You have a daughter.”
Anthony looked down, his shoulders shaking.
“Yes.”
“With the woman you convinced me to marry.”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” Anthony pleaded. “We were in debt. Massive debt. Lauren said if she married you, we could access the main trust. We just needed Mother declared incompetent.”
“Dead,” Matteo corrected, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “You tried to declare her dead.”
Lauren wiped her tears, her expression suddenly hardening.
“She’s seventy-eight! She doesn’t need millions of dollars! Our daughter does!”
“Where is the child?” Matteo demanded.
Lauren lifted her chin.
“Safe. Far away from this miserable family.”
Matteo stepped closer to her.
“You stole my mother’s ring. You forged my signature. You planned to steal my inheritance to fund a secret family.”
Lauren glared at him.
“I did what I had to do.”
Matteo reached into the envelope one last time.
“Answer one question, Lauren.”
She crossed her arms.
“What?”
“If you love my brother so much…” Matteo pulled out a second document. “Why does my father’s letter include a five-year-old marriage certificate between you and a man named Victor Rossi?”
Lauren’s arrogant mask completely shattered.
Anthony’s head snapped up.
“What did you just say?” Anthony demanded.
But before Matteo could speak, my apron pocket vibrated.
I pulled out my phone.
It was a text message from an unknown number.
May you like
It was a photo of a little girl with green eyes, crying in the back of a van, holding Rose’s stolen pearl necklace.
The text below it read: Tell Matteo he has twenty-four hours to sign the estate over, or Anthony’s daughter dies.
