Chapter 3 - THE SECRET IN THE SILVER WATCH
I froze.
Every pair of eyes in the dining room turned toward me.
Matteo.
Rose.
Grace.
And Sloane, whose face had gone completely white.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
“Me?”
My voice cracked.
The man in the overcoat stepped closer to the table.
“Don't play stupid. You're Emily Carter.”
I stepped back.
“How do you know my name?”
“Because I know exactly who took my son from the rehabilitation center in Chicago.”
The room spun.
Four years I had worked at that clinic.
Hundreds of patients.
But only one child had ever been brought through those doors at midnight.
A seven-year-old boy named Leo.
He had been in a terrible car accident.
His mother had signed the paperwork.
His mother, who wore dark sunglasses and paid in cash.
His mother, who I only saw once before she vanished entirely.
I looked at Sloane.
The champagne gown.
The perfect hair.
The dark burgundy lipstick.
Four years ago, her hair had been black.
She had worn no makeup.
But the jawline was the same.
“It was you,” I whispered.
Sloane’s hands shook violently.
“Matteo, she’s crazy. I don't know what she's talking about.”
Matteo didn't look at her.
He kept his eyes on the silver watch resting on the table.
He slowly reached out and picked it up.
He pressed the latch.
The watch popped open.
Matteo stared at the inside of the lid for a long time.
Then he looked at the man.
“This belonged to my father.”
The man nodded.
“Yes.”
“My father gave this to my older brother before he died.”
“Yes.”
Matteo’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
“My brother died twelve years ago in a boat fire.”
The man didn't blink.
“Did he?”
Matteo grabbed the man by the lapels of his heavy coat and slammed him against the mahogany table.
The crystal glasses shattered on the floor.
Security rushed forward.
Matteo held up a hand, stopping them.
He leaned into the man's face.
“My brother is dead.”
The man smiled, blood showing on his teeth from the bruised cheek.
“Then whose picture is inside that watch?”
Matteo didn't move.
His hands shook slightly against the man’s coat.
He looked down at the open silver watch in his own hand.
I couldn't see the picture from where I stood.
But I saw Matteo’s reaction.
The cold, controlled mafia boss completely shattered.
He let go of the man's coat and took a staggering step backward.
“No.”
The man straightened his collar.
“Your brother survived the fire, Matteo. But he knew your father’s enemies set it. So he disappeared. To protect you.”
Matteo stared at the photograph.
“Where is he?”
“He’s dead.”
The room fell completely silent.
“He died four years ago,” the man continued. “In a car crash in Chicago.”
Sloane let out a choked sob.
The man turned his head slowly and looked at her.
“A crash caused by his loving wife, Rebecca.”
Matteo’s head snapped up.
He looked at Sloane.
“You?”
Sloane shook her head wildly.
“He's lying! Matteo, he's a liar!”
The man pointed at the watch.
“Look at the picture, DeLuca. Tell me who the woman standing next to your brother is.”
Matteo didn't need to look again.
He stared at Sloane.
“You were married to my brother.”
Sloane burst into tears.
She fell to her knees on the ruined carpet.
“I didn't know he was a DeLuca! He used a fake name! I swear to God, Matteo, I didn't know until I met you!”
Matteo looked disgusted.
“You crashed the car.”
“It was an accident!”
“And the boy?” Matteo asked, his voice shaking. “My brother had a son?”
The man nodded.
“Leo. The only true heir to the DeLuca family. Which is exactly why she tried to get rid of him.”
Sloane screamed.
“I didn't! I left him at the clinic because I couldn't care for him!”
The man looked at me.
“And this maid took him.”
Matteo turned to me.
His eyes were wild, desperate.
“Emily.”
I swallowed hard.
“I didn't steal him,” I said, my voice shaking but clear. “His mother abandoned him. The clinic was going to put him in state care. My younger brother is seventeen. I became a foster parent. I took Leo in.”
Matteo took a step toward me.
“He's alive?”
“Yes.”
Tears sprang to Matteo’s eyes.
“Where is he?”
Before I could answer, Grace stepped forward.
She had been completely silent this whole time.
She reached into the pocket of her plain navy dress.
And pulled out a small, crumpled piece of paper.
A child’s drawing.
Drawn in bright blue crayon.
She placed it on the table next to the watch.
It was a drawing of a house.
With a large gate.
And a woman holding a boy's hand.
Grace looked at Sloane with pure hatred.
“He isn't with Emily anymore,” Grace said quietly. “Because yesterday afternoon, someone broke into Emily's apartment and took him.”
I stopped breathing.
I looked at Grace.
“What?”
Grace turned to me, her eyes filled with tears.
“I’m sorry, Emily. I tried to tell you before dinner. But Sloane locked me in the laundry room.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
My little boy.
My Leo.
May you like
Grace pointed at Sloane.
“She has him.”
