Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN IN THE RED DRESS
The silence in Antonio Moretti’s study was absolute.
Even the house above us seemed to hold its breath.
Thirty-two guests were sitting at a beautifully set dining table directly over our heads, drinking vintage champagne, waiting for the happy couple to return and cut an engagement cake.
Down here, the engagement was bleeding to death on a dusty Persian rug.
Luca took one slow step toward Vanessa.
He held the broken silver rosary in his left hand.
“Take off the bracelet,” he said.
Vanessa backed up until her shoulders hit the doorframe. Her beautiful face was pale, her dark eyes wide with genuine panic.
“Luca, please. Let me explain.”
“Take. It. Off.”
Her trembling fingers fumbled with the diamond clasp. The bracelet slipped from her wrist and fell into Luca’s waiting palm.
He held the two pieces of jewelry together.
The broken silver cross from Vanessa’s diamond bracelet fit perfectly into the jagged edge of the old rosary found inside his dead father’s safe.
“My father wore this rosary every day of his life,” Luca said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. “He had it on him when the paramedics found his body in the street. But the cross was broken off. Missing.”
He looked up at the woman he was supposed to marry.
“How did you get it, Vanessa?”
Vanessa shook her head rapidly. “It’s a family heirloom! My mother gave it to me! It’s a coincidence!”
“A coincidence.” Luca smiled, but it was a terrifying expression. “Your family, the Bellinis, were my father’s biggest rivals in 2013. The year he died.”
“We made peace!” she cried. “That’s why we’re getting married, Luca! To merge the families. To honor the peace treaty!”
“Peace.” Luca dropped the diamond bracelet onto his father’s desk. “Frank.”
Frank stepped forward immediately. “Yes, kid.”
“Lock the basement doors. Nobody gets out.”
Frank nodded and hurried down the hall.
Vanessa lunged forward, grabbing Luca’s arm. “You’re acting crazy! Over a stupid broken necklace? I was trying to protect your family’s reputation! Marco Rossi told me your father was keeping a secret ledger in this safe. A ledger that proves Antonio was stealing from his own men. I wanted to destroy it before the families found out and turned against you!”
It was a good lie.
It sounded desperate, emotional, and loyal.
For a second, I saw a flicker of doubt in Luca’s eyes. He loved his father, but he knew the world they lived in. Men like Antonio Moretti always had secrets.
“She’s lying,” a quiet voice said.
Everyone turned.
It was me.
I hadn’t meant to speak. My hands were shaking so hard I had to grip the edge of the wooden bookshelf. But I couldn’t watch this woman manipulate him anymore.
“Emma,” Luca said softly. “What do you know?”
“Before dinner,” I said, forcing my voice to stay level, “Mrs. Bellini didn’t just order Frank out of the house. She gave me two hundred dollars to put him in a cab. She said, ‘Make sure he leaves before dinner, and don’t let him take the lunchbox.’”
Luca frowned. “The lunchbox?”
“Yes.” I looked at Vanessa. “She told me to leave it in the kitchen. She said it was unsanitary.”
Luca slowly turned his head to look at Frank’s dented green lunchbox, still sitting on the floor where the old man had dropped it.
“Why would you care about a handyman’s lunchbox?” Luca asked her.
Vanessa’s lips parted, but no sound came out.
Frank walked back into the room. He looked at the lunchbox, then at Luca.
“Kid,” Frank said gently. “I think there’s something you need to see.”
Frank knelt on the floor. He popped the two metal latches on the old green box.
Inside was exactly what I had seen earlier. A thermos. Reading glasses. Two screwdrivers. A folded blue work shirt. And the photograph of Frank, Antonio, and a young Luca.
Frank took the items out, one by one, placing them on the rug.
Then he picked up one of the screwdrivers.
He wedged the flathead tip under the metal seam at the bottom of the lunchbox and pushed.
With a loud pop, the false bottom of the lunchbox sprang loose.
Vanessa gasped.
Luca stared.
Frank reached into the hidden compartment and pulled out a small, black leather-bound book.
A ledger.
“Your father didn’t keep his secrets in the safe, Luca,” Frank said quietly. “He knew the safe was the first place his enemies would look. He kept the real ledger in here. He gave it to me two days before he died. Told me to guard it with my life.”
Luca took the black book from Frank’s hands.
“You’ve had this for thirteen years?” Luca asked. “Why didn’t you give it to me?”
“Because Antonio said you weren’t ready to read it until you found out who you were truly fighting,” Frank said. He looked at Vanessa. “And tonight, she finally showed her hand.”
Luca opened the ledger.
The pages weren’t filled with mafia extortion numbers, gambling debts, or money laundering schemes.
They were medical records.
Hospital receipts. Pharmacy bills. Specialist appointments.
All of them paid in cash by Antonio Moretti.
“I don’t understand,” Luca murmured. “Who was my father paying for?”
Frank stepped closer. “Look at the name at the top of the page, Luca.”
Luca’s finger traced the faded blue ink.
Patient: Julian Rossi.
Luca’s head snapped up. “Rossi? Marco Rossi’s son?”
“Grandson,” Frank corrected.
“My father was secretly paying the medical bills for the grandson of the man who supposedly stole from him?”
“Marco never stole from your father,” Frank said, his voice thick with emotion. “Marco was framed. And Antonio knew it. But Antonio couldn’t prove who actually framed him without getting Marco killed. So Antonio fired him publicly to protect him, and secretly paid for the boy’s leukemia treatments.”
The room spun.
I looked at Vanessa. She looked like she was going to be sick.
“So who framed him?” Luca asked, his voice deadly quiet.
Frank didn’t answer. He just looked at Vanessa.
Before Luca could say another word, a small, timid voice echoed from the hallway.
“Excuse me?”
We all turned.
Standing in the doorway was a nine-year-old boy in oversized pajamas. He had dark, messy hair and large, frightened brown eyes.
It was Julian. The cook’s “nephew” who lived in the staff quarters.
He was clutching a thick, brown manila envelope against his chest.
“Julian,” I said softly, stepping forward. “What are you doing out of bed?”
May you like
The boy looked at me, then at Luca. But his eyes finally landed on Vanessa.
“The lady in the red dress,” Julian whispered, pointing a trembling finger at Vanessa. “She told me to hide this in my room. She said if I gave it to Mr. Luca, she would send me back to the orphanage.”
