Chapter 4 - The Photograph In The Desk
The rain fell in heavy, freezing sheets, washing over the black town car idling in the driveway.
Vincent Rowan stood illuminated by the headlights. He looked nothing like the charming best man who had been sipping champagne an hour ago. His expensive suit was soaked, his eyes wild and desperate.
He held Vanessa pinned against his chest. The silver blade of a hunting knife pressed dangerously tight against her pale throat.
Vanessa was sobbing hysterically, her hands clawing at Vincent’s arm.
“Vincent, please!” she shrieked.
“Shut up!” Vincent roared, pressing the blade closer. A thin line of red appeared on her skin. He looked up at Luca standing on the porch.
Luca hadn’t lowered his gun. He stood perfectly still, rain running down his face.
“Let her go, Vincent,” Luca said. His voice easily cut through the sound of the storm. It held no anger. Only cold authority.
“The codes changed!” Vincent yelled, his voice cracking with panic. “The vault codes changed at midnight! You knew. You set us up!”
“I knew there was a rat in my accounts,” Luca replied evenly. “I just didn’t want to believe it was the man who saved my life in Boston twenty years ago.”
Vincent flinched. The memory clearly struck a nerve. But his grip on Vanessa didn’t loosen.
“I need the new codes, Luca,” Vincent demanded. “Give them to me, and I’ll leave the country. I swear on my life, you’ll never see me again. If you don’t, I slit her throat right here.”
Vanessa let out a choked gasp, locking eyes with Luca. “Darling, please! He’s crazy! He’ll do it!”
Luca looked at the woman he was supposed to marry in three days. The woman who had locked his son in a cellar and threatened to shoot the maid who protected him.
Very slowly, Luca lowered his gun.
Vincent let out a breath of relief.
“You can kill her, Vincent,” Luca said.
Vanessa froze. Vincent blinked, entirely caught off guard.
“What?” Vincent stammered.
“You can kill her,” Luca repeated, his voice devoid of any emotion. “She means absolutely nothing to me. But if you drop her blood on my driveway, I will have my men hunt you to the ends of the earth. I won’t just kill you. I will dismantle everything you’ve ever cared about.”
I stood frozen behind the heavy oak door, my hands covering Leo’s ears so he couldn’t hear the brutality of his father’s words. But I saw the way Luca’s jaw locked. He wasn’t bluffing.
Vincent stared at Luca. He realized he had absolutely no leverage.
“You’re a monster,” Vincent whispered.
“I’m the man you betrayed,” Luca corrected.
Suddenly, sirens wailed in the distance. The sound cut through the rain, growing rapidly louder. Police.
Vincent panicked. He shoved Vanessa away.
She stumbled and fell hard onto the wet cobblestones, scraping her hands and knees.
Vincent dove into the driver’s seat of the town car, slamming the door. The tires squealed, spinning on the wet stone before the car tore down the driveway, crashing through the wooden security arm at the gate and disappearing into the night.
Luca didn’t shoot at the fleeing car. He just watched it go.
Then, he walked down the steps.
He stopped next to Vanessa, who was kneeling in puddles, sobbing, her beautiful dress ruined.
She looked up at him, reaching out a trembling hand. “Luca… he made me do it. He threatened me.”
Luca didn’t take her hand.
“Get off my property,” he said.
“Luca, please! The police are coming! I have nowhere to go!”
“Then you’d better start walking.”
He turned his back on her and walked up the stairs, pulling the heavy oak doors shut. He locked the deadbolt, leaving her outside in the storm.
The moment the door clicked shut, the cold mafia boss vanished.
Luca dropped to his knees right there in the foyer. He reached out for Leo.
I let the boy go. Leo threw himself into his father’s arms. Luca buried his face in his son’s hair, holding him so tight his knuckles turned white.
“I’m so sorry, Leo,” Luca whispered fiercely. “I’m so sorry I brought her into this house.”
I stood awkwardly near the wall, my ribs throbbing with a dull, persistent ache. I felt like an intruder on an intensely private moment. I took a slow step backward, intending to slip away to the servant’s quarters.
“Nora.”
I stopped.
Luca looked up. His eyes were red.
“Don’t leave,” he said quietly.
“I should go pack, sir,” I whispered. “With everything that’s happened… I know I can’t stay here.”
“You are the only person in this house I trust,” Luca said, standing up with Leo still clinging to him. “You protected my son when no one else did. You aren’t going anywhere.”
He walked toward me, his dark eyes searching my face.
“Come to the study. I need to show you something.”
I followed him back to the warm, wood-paneled room. The chaos outside felt a million miles away.
Luca set Leo down on the sofa and handed him a blanket. Then, he walked behind his desk.
He didn’t sit down. He opened a small, locked drawer using a key from his pocket.
He reached inside and pulled out a photograph.
It was an old, faded Polaroid.
He walked around the desk and held it out to me.
“I didn’t hire you by accident, Nora,” Luca said softly.
I took the photograph. My hands were shaking.
I looked at the image.
It was a picture of two young men standing in front of a bar in Boston. They were laughing, their arms slung around each other’s shoulders.
One was a much younger Luca Moretti.
The other was Vincent Rowan.
But it was the woman standing between them that made my breath stop.
She was smiling brightly, wearing a simple white dress, holding a baby.
It was my mother.
And she was holding me.
I stared at Luca, my heart pounding in my chest.
“What is this?” I choked out. “How did you know my mother?”
Luca looked at the photograph, his expression filled with a profound, heavy sorrow.
“Because twenty years ago,” Luca whispered, “Vincent Rowan didn’t just save my life. He destroyed yours.”
He pointed to the smiling man in the photo.
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TITLE: The Watch With Stopped Hands
