Chapter 2 - THE SILVER WATCH IN THE SHADOWS
“Who stopped her, Bianca?”
Giovanni’s voice didn’t rise. It didn’t have to. The quiet danger in his tone made the temperature in the dining room drop ten degrees.
Bianca backed away, her heel catching on the edge of an imported rug. “You know how your mother was, Giovanni. She was getting confused. I didn’t want to upset you with her delusions.”
“Give me a name,” he commanded.
Before Bianca could speak, heavy footsteps echoed in the marble hallway. Marcus, Giovanni’s most trusted advisor and second-in-command for over a decade, stepped into the doorway. His sharp eyes scanned the room, landing on the torn quilt and the photograph in Giovanni's hand.
“Is there a problem here, Boss?” Marcus asked, his voice smooth and steady.
Bianca’s eyes darted to Marcus. A flash of pure panic crossed her face, quickly masked by a forced cough.
“No problem, Marcus,” Bianca said, her voice shaking slightly. “Just a misunderstanding with the maid.”
Giovanni didn’t look at Marcus. He kept his eyes locked on his fiancée. “Bianca was just about to tell me who prevented my mother from telling me about my daughter.”
Marcus froze. It was a microscopic movement, but after two years of observing this household, I saw it. His hand drifted unconsciously toward his vest pocket.
“Daughter?” Marcus asked, feigning confusion. “Giovanni, Teresa was heavily medicated in those final months. You know she imagined things.”
“She didn't imagine a photograph, Marcus.” Giovanni turned around, holding up the faded picture.
I stood quietly by the fireplace, my hands trembling as I held the damaged quilt. I looked down at the frayed seams I still needed to repair. As my fingers smoothed a patch of green corduroy, I felt something hard sewn into the lining.
Another object.
I glanced up. The men were entirely focused on Bianca. I carefully slipped two fingers into the torn seam and pulled out a small, tarnished silver pocket watch. It wasn’t a man’s watch; it was delicate, engraved with a single initial: E.
“Bianca, look at me,” Giovanni demanded. “Who threatened my mother?”
Bianca opened her mouth, her eyes fixed on Marcus. She looked like a trapped animal. “It was—”
“Careful, Bianca,” Marcus interrupted softly. “Stress isn't good for the bride before the wedding.”
The veiled threat hung in the air.
Then, Giovanni’s eyes snapped to my hands. “Claire. What is that?”
I swallowed hard, holding up the silver watch. “It was in the green square, sir.”
Marcus stepped forward, his calm demeanor shattering. “Give me that. It belongs to me.”
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Giovanni blocked him, taking the watch from my trembling hand. He popped the latch. Inside the casing wasn't a clock face, but a tiny, perfectly preserved lock of dark curly hair.
Giovanni looked at Marcus, his gray eyes turning to ice. “My mother gave this watch to a woman named Elena seven years ago. Why are you so desperate to take it back?”
