Chapter 4 - THE BOY WITH THE SILVER ROSARY
The champagne glasses remained untouched. The engagement dinner was officially ruined, but nobody was leaving.
The little boy stood in the doorway, clutching a silver rosary that gleamed under the chandeliers. He had dark, messy hair and large, solemn brown eyes.
He looked exactly like Nico.
Nico dropped the yellowed paper. He walked slowly toward the boy, completely ignoring Victoria, who was now staring in horrified disbelief.
“Where did you get that?” Nico asked, kneeling down so he was eye-level with the child.
“My mom,” the boy said, his small fingers tightening around the beads. “She told me to wait in the car, but it was cold. She said if she didn't come back in ten minutes, I had to find you and give you this.”
Nico gently took the rosary from the boy’s hand. I recognized it. It was the same rosary Nico kept a photograph of in his wallet. It belonged to Isabella, a woman he had loved before his father forced him into this arranged world.
“What is your name, little one?” Nico asked gently.
“Matteo,” the boy answered.
“Matteo,” Nico repeated. “Where is your mom now?”
Matteo pointed toward the massive windows overlooking the estate’s dark driveway. “She went to talk to that lady.”
He pointed directly at Victoria.
Nico stood up. The sadness in his eyes was instantly replaced by a terrifying, cold fury. He turned to his fiancée.
“Where is Isabella, Victoria?” Nico asked softly.
Victoria took a step back, hitting the edge of the dining table. “I don’t know what he’s talking about, Nico. He’s just a confused kid—”
“Do not lie to me again!” Nico roared. The sound made several guests jump. “This rosary was buried with my mother. I gave it to Isabella five years ago. I thought she left me. I thought she took the money my father offered and ran.”
He held up the rosary.
“But she didn't, did she? You found her.”
“She was a cocktail waitress, Nico!” Victoria screamed, finally losing her composure. “She wasn't fit to be your wife! She couldn't give you the connections my family can! I did what your father wanted!”
“My father is dead,” Nico said coldly. “What did you do to Isabella tonight?”
“Nothing!” Victoria insisted. “I haven't seen her!”
“Mr. DeLuca!”
One of the security guards rushed into the dining room. He looked panicked, out of breath.
“Sir, we found a car parked by the back gates. The engine was running, but nobody was inside.” The guard swallowed hard. “But sir… there was blood on the steering wheel. And we found this on the ground next to it.”
The guard held up a woman’s beige trench coat.
Matteo let out a small, heartbreaking cry. “That’s Mommy’s coat!”
The boy ran toward the guard, but I moved faster. I knelt down and caught Matteo in my arms, holding him tight against my chest. He buried his face in my shoulder, sobbing.
I looked up at Nico. The mafia boss looked like he was suffocating.
“Lock down the estate,” Nico ordered the guard. “Nobody leaves. Not the guests. Not the staff.”
He turned his dark eyes to Victoria.
“Especially not her.”
Victoria’s father, Richard Sterling, finally stood up from his table. He was a wealthy, arrogant man who thought his money made him untouchable.
“Now see here, Nico,” Richard boomed. “You will not treat my daughter like a criminal in front of—”
“Shut up, Richard,” Nico snapped. “Your daughter just orchestrated a kidnapping on my property.”
“I didn't!” Victoria cried. “I swear, Nico, I didn't touch her! I didn't even know she was coming here tonight!”
For a second, I believed her. Her panic looked too real.
But then Ruth, the elderly woman who had started this entire chain of events, walked slowly toward the table where Victoria’s clutch still sat.
Ruth picked up the leather-bound notebook—the list of names Victoria had paid off.
“Nicholas,” Ruth said, her voice shaking. “You didn't turn to the last page.”
Nico walked over to Ruth. He took the book and flipped to the very back.
I watched his face drain of all color.
“What is it?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
Nico didn't answer me. He looked at Victoria, then at her father, and finally, his eyes landed on Matteo, who was still crying in my arms.
“Victoria didn't kidnap Isabella tonight,” Nico said, his voice echoing in the silent room.
May you like
He turned the notebook around.
“Because according to this… Isabella died four years ago.”
