Chapter 2 - THE BLACK BOX AND THE STOLEN BRACELET
The words hung in the damp air of the conservatory, heavier than the Chicago humidity.
Luca stared at the old gardener.
"A black box?"
Anthony nodded slowly, his cracked glasses reflecting the dim garden lights. "Isabella told me it contained the Bellini family ledgers. Proof that Vanessa’s father didn’t just lose his money in bad investments. He had stolen from the Moretti syndicate. Isabella was going to expose them."
Luca’s blood ran cold.
His mother had died in a sudden, tragic fall down the grand staircase nine years ago.
The authorities had ruled it a heart attack that caused her to lose her balance.
But if Vanessa had been there three weeks earlier, hunting for blackmail material…
"Where is the box now?" Luca asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
"I don't know," Anthony whispered. "But Isabella told me if anything ever happened to her, I was to find the woman with the silver swallow necklace. She said that woman held the key."
Luca helped the old man to his feet. "Stay in the potting room. I'll send my personal guards to get you out."
He turned and walked back into the mansion.
The dining room was still filled with laughter.
Vanessa was holding court at the head of the table, her red silk gown shimmering under the chandeliers.
Luca approached her slowly, his eyes dropping to her wrist as she reached for her champagne.
Sparkling against her skin was a heavy, vintage diamond bracelet.
It was his mother’s.
Vanessa had told him she bought it at an estate sale in Paris.
She had been wearing his dead mother’s jewelry for years.
"Darling," Vanessa purred as he sat down. "Is everything alright?"
"Perfectly," Luca lied.
He needed to find Maria.
He excused himself before dessert was served and walked toward the staff quarters.
The hallway was quiet, smelling of starch and floor wax.
But as he turned the corner, he didn't find Maria resting in the infirmary.
He found her standing in his private study.
The door was wide open.
Maria was kneeling on the Persian rug in front of his master safe.
And she wasn't alone.
Sitting beside her was Leo, Luca’s six-year-old son from his first marriage.
Leo was supposed to be asleep on the third floor.
Instead, the boy was shivering in his pajamas, clutching a small, crumpled child's drawing to his chest.
"Maria," Luca said sharply.
Maria jumped, spinning around to face him. Her knee was heavily bandaged, but her eyes were wide with terror.
"Mr. Moretti," she gasped, stepping in front of Leo to shield him. "I can explain."
Luca looked at his son. "Leo, what are you doing down here?"
Leo peeked around Maria’s skirt. His small voice trembled.
"I brought Maria a picture, Daddy. Because she’s the only one who listens to me."
Luca frowned. He walked forward and gently took the paper from his son's shaking hands.
He flattened the drawing out on his mahogany desk.
It was a crayon sketch of the conservatory fountain.
But in the drawing, a woman with red hair was pushing an older woman into the water.
"Leo," Luca whispered, his heart stopping. "Who drew this?"
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"I did," Leo said, tears spilling down his cheeks. "I saw it, Daddy. I saw Vanessa push Grandma."
TITLE: The Rosary Beneath the Floorboards
