THE LIES BURIED BENEATH THE FAMILY TABLE

Matteo’s knuckles turned white against the dark oak of his dining chair.

The twenty-four relatives sitting around the table were completely silent. You could hear the faint hum of the crystal chandelier above us.

“Nonna,” Matteo said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, quiet octave. “This is family business. It doesn’t need to be discussed in front of everyone.”

“Claire is family,” Rosa snapped, her voice surprisingly strong for a woman who had just spent months in a wheelchair. “And since it concerns her, she will hear it.”

Vanessa took a step forward, her red silk dress rustling. “Rosa, be reasonable. Matteo is just trying to protect the Moretti legacy.”

“By stealing from his own wife?” Rosa countered.

My breath caught in my throat. “Stealing?”

I turned to Matteo. For six years, I had stood by this man. I knew he operated in the shadows of Chicago’s underworld. I knew the Moretti family name carried weight, fear, and blood. But I had always believed that inside these walls, I was safe. I was his wife.

Matteo wouldn’t look at me.

“Matteo,” I said, my voice trembling. “What is she talking about?”

He let go of the chair and rubbed his temples. “It’s a technicality, Claire. The estate in Tuscany. The one my grandfather left to you in his will.”

My heart pounded. When Rosa’s husband, Vincenzo, passed away two years ago, he had surprised everyone by leaving a sprawling, historic vineyard in Italy entirely in my name. He had said it was because I was the only one in the family with a "clean soul."

“What about the estate?” I asked.

Vanessa sighed, tracing the rim of her champagne glass. “Matteo needs to leverage it. The family business has hit a rough patch, Claire. We need the property as collateral for a new shipping venture.”

“We?” I repeated, staring at her. “Since when are you part of the family business?”

Vanessa smiled, a cold, calculated expression. “Since my father’s syndicate agreed to merge with Matteo’s. But my father requires proof of good faith. The Tuscany estate.”

The pieces fell into place with sickening clarity.

Matteo hadn’t just been cheating on me. He was brokering a mafia alliance. And he needed my property to seal the deal.

“You can’t touch that estate without my signature,” I said.

“That’s exactly the problem,” Rosa interjected, her grip tightening on my arm. “He knew you would never sign it over to a cartel. So, they tried to convince me to declare you mentally unfit to care for me.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

“If you were deemed unstable,” Rosa continued, “Matteo, as your husband, could claim power of attorney. He could sign the deed himself.”

I stared at the man I had married. The man who had kissed my forehead this morning.

“You were going to have me committed?” I whispered.

Matteo finally met my eyes. “It wouldn’t have been permanent, Claire. Just a temporary medical hold. Long enough to process the paperwork. I was going to make sure you were comfortable.”

A sickening wave of betrayal washed over me. He wasn’t just unfaithful. He was willing to strip me of my freedom.

“Get out,” I said.

Matteo blinked. “What?”

“Get out of this house.”

Vanessa laughed softly. “Claire, this is Matteo’s house.”

“No,” Rosa said, pulling a folded piece of heavy parchment from the pocket of her cardigan. “It’s mine. And I am transferring the deed to Claire. Effective immediately.”

Matteo’s jaw dropped. “Nonna, you can’t do that.”

“I already did,” Rosa said.

But as Rosa handed me the paper, Vanessa’s cold smile returned.

“That’s very touching, Rosa,” Vanessa said, pulling a small silver object from her velvet clutch. “But I don’t think Claire will be staying.”

Vanessa held it up by a delicate chain.

It was a small, silver locket.