Chapter 7 - [THE MATRIARCH’S ROOM]
The next morning, the mansion felt entirely different.
The oppressive, suffocating weight that usually hung over the sweeping staircases and marble floors was gone.
The house was quiet, but it was a warm, breathing quiet.
I woke up in my small bed in the staff quarters.
I looked at my wrist.
The silver olive branch bracelet was still there.
It wasn't a dream.
I dressed quickly in my usual uniform—black slacks, white button-down—and headed toward the kitchen.
Rosa was already there.
She was humming.
I hadn't heard Rosa hum in nine months.
She was standing at the stove, flipping thick, fluffy pancakes.
Mia was sitting at the massive island, swinging her legs and drinking orange juice.
“Good morning, Emma,” Rosa said cheerfully.
“Good morning,” I said, still adjusting to the lightness in the room.
“How is she?”
Rosa smiled, her eyes crinkling.
“Sleeping. In a real bed. Under a down comforter. After twenty-two years on cheap motel mattresses, I think she might sleep until Tuesday.”
I poured myself a cup of coffee.
“And Mr. Moretti?”
“He’s in his office,” Rosa said, her tone shifting slightly.
“With the lawyers.”
That made sense.
Canceling a wedding that was essentially a corporate merger, banishing his uncle, and bringing a legally dead woman back to life was going to require an army of attorneys.
I walked down the long hallway toward Luca’s study.
I didn't want to interrupt, but I wanted to bring him coffee. He had to be exhausted.
The heavy oak doors were slightly ajar.
I heard voices.
“It’s a massive legal headache, Luca,” a deep voice said. It was Thomas, the lead family attorney.
“Lucia was declared legally dead. The estate was settled. The life insurance was paid out.”
“Repay the insurance with interest,” Luca’s voice was firm, completely devoid of its usual exhaustion.
“Fix the death certificate. I don't care what it costs.”
“The syndicate is another issue,” Thomas pressed.
“Carlo has powerful friends. Handing him over to the New York council is essentially a death sentence. There will be retaliation.”
“Let them try,” Luca said.
“The Bellini ports are mine now. Carlo's assets are frozen. I have the leverage.”
I pushed the door open slightly with my shoulder, holding the coffee tray.
“Excuse me.”
Both men looked up.
Thomas looked annoyed at the interruption.
Luca immediately smiled.
It was a small, private smile that made my chest tight.
“Come in, Emma,” Luca said.
He stood up from his massive mahogany desk.
He wasn't wearing a suit today. Just dark jeans and a black Henley shirt pushed up to his forearms.
He looked younger. Less burdened.
I set the tray down.
“I thought you might need caffeine.”
“Desperately,” Luca said.
He walked over to me.
He didn't care that his high-priced lawyer was sitting three feet away.
He reached out, his fingers brushing against the silver bracelet on my wrist.
“Did you sleep?” he asked softly.
“A little,” I admitted.
Thomas cleared his throat loudly.
“Luca, we have to discuss the trust.”
Luca didn't look away from me.
“Give us a minute, Thomas.”
The lawyer sighed, snapped his briefcase shut, and walked out, closing the heavy doors behind him.
We were alone.
Luca took a step closer.
He looked down at me, his gray eyes searching my face.
“I meant what I said last night,” he murmured.
“You're not a housekeeper anymore.”
“I’m wearing the uniform,” I pointed out gently.
“Take it off,” he said.
Then he smirked. “I mean, change. I told Rosa to move your things into the East Wing.”
My breath hitched.
The East Wing was the family wing. It was where Luca slept. Where Vanessa was supposed to sleep.
“Luca, I can't just move into the East Wing,” I said.
“I don't know anything about your world. I pour champagne and make beds.”
Luca reached up, his warm hand cupping my cheek.
“My world was built on lies and blood. I'm tearing it down. I'm rebuilding it. And I want you beside me while I do it.”
Before I could answer, the office door flew open.
It was Daniel.
The old pianist looked frantic.
“Luca,” Daniel gasped, out of breath.
Luca dropped his hand and turned.
“What is it?”
Daniel held up a piece of heavy, cream-colored stationery.
“It’s Lucia.”
My heart stopped.
“Is she okay?” I asked.
“She’s gone,” Daniel said.
Luca froze. “What do you mean, gone? She’s asleep upstairs.”
“No,” Daniel said, handing the paper to Luca.
“I went to check on her. Her bed is empty. She left this.”
Luca snatched the letter.
His eyes darted across the elegant, looping handwriting.
I watched the color drain from his face.
“No,” Luca whispered. “No, no, no.”
“What does it say?” I asked, stepping closer.
Luca looked up. His eyes were wide with a terror I hadn't seen since the train platform.
“She didn't come back to stay,” Luca said, his voice trembling.
May you like
“She came back to say goodbye.”
TITLE: THE FINAL SACRIFICE
