Chapter 3 - THE BLOOD AND THE WILL
The silence in the dining room was so absolute I could hear the rain lashing against the tall windows.
Michael’s grip on my neck loosened just a fraction, the cold steel of the steak knife slipping slightly away from my stomach.
He stared at the yellowed piece of paper in Luca’s hand.
“That’s a lie,” Michael breathed, his voice cracking. “That’s a goddamn lie!”
Luca didn't flinch.
He didn't look at me, though I was shaking uncontrollably against his brother’s chest. He kept his eyes locked on Michael.
“This is an amended will, drafted five years ago,” Luca said, his voice ringing clearly across the room. “Signed by our mother. Notarized by the family lawyer.”
Luca read from the page.
“‘Upon my death, I, Rosa Moretti, formally request a DNA test to confirm the parentage of my eldest son, Michael. I leave him nothing, as I have discovered he is the biological son of Carlo Bellini.’”
Vanessa gasped.
She pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock.
If Michael was Carlo Bellini’s son… that meant Vanessa and Michael were half-siblings.
And for the past two years, they had been secretly funneling Moretti money together.
“You killed her to stop the test,” Luca said, the realization finally settling over him. “Mom found out you were the product of an affair before she married Dad. She was going to cut you out of the family entirely.”
Michael was breathing heavily, his chest heaving against my back.
“She was a hypocrite!” Michael yelled, the truth finally breaking him. “She raised me for thirty years letting me believe I was the heir! Then she finds some old letter, and suddenly I’m nothing? I’m a bastard?”
He pressed the knife harder against my stomach. I cried out softly, tears spilling down my cheeks.
“She was going to ruin everything!” Michael screamed. “I had to do it!”
He had confessed.
In front of forty people, Michael Moretti admitted to murdering his own mother.
Luca’s expression didn't change, but I saw the subtle shift in his stance. He was measuring the distance. Calculating the strike.
“Let the girl go, Michael,” Luca said. “She has nothing to do with this.”
“She’s the one who ruined everything!” Michael spat. “If she hadn't taught the old man to talk, none of this would be happening!”
“Let her go,” Luca repeated, taking one slow step forward.
“Stay back!”
Before Michael could drag me any further toward the doors, a figure moved from the shadows near the kitchen entrance.
It was Daniel, Luca’s head of security.
He didn't draw a gun. He simply picked up a heavy silver wine decanter from a serving cart.
In one fluid motion, Daniel hurled the decanter across the room.
It struck Michael squarely in the side of the head with a sickening crack.
Michael dropped the knife and crumpled to the floor, completely unconscious.
I stumbled forward, gasping for air.
Before I could fall, Luca caught me. His strong arms steadied me, guiding me gently to a chair.
“Are you hurt, Nora?” he asked, his voice entirely different now—soft, protective.
“No,” I sobbed, clutching my stomach. “The baby is fine.”
Luca nodded. He turned to Daniel.
“Take him to the warehouse basement. Do not let anyone else near him.”
“Yes, boss.” Daniel grabbed Michael by the collar and dragged him out of the room like a sack of garbage.
Luca turned to the forty guests sitting frozen at the table.
“The dinner is over,” Luca announced quietly.
Nobody argued. Within three minutes, the dining room was completely empty, save for Luca, Arthur, Vanessa, and me.
Vanessa was standing near the fireplace, trembling.
She looked at Michael’s blood on the floor, then at Luca.
“Luca, I swear to God, I didn't know he killed her,” she pleaded, tears streaking her perfect makeup. “I just helped him manage the accounts! I thought we were just protecting the business from his… his episodes.”
She gestured toward Arthur.
Luca walked slowly toward his fiancée.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't even look angry anymore. He just looked tired.
“You knew he pushed my father down the stairs,” Luca said.
Vanessa swallowed hard. “He told me it was an accident. He said Arthur slipped.”
“And you believed him.”
“I loved you, Luca! I was trying to protect our future!”
Luca reached into his jacket pocket.
He pulled out the small velvet box containing the engagement ring he had given her two hours earlier.
He opened it, looked at the massive diamond, and then snapped it shut.
“Get out of my house, Vanessa.”
“Luca, please—”
“If I ever see you in Chicago again, I will let Daniel finish what he started with Michael. Leave.”
Vanessa didn't need to be told a third time. She grabbed her coat and practically ran out the front door.
The heavy oak door slammed shut, echoing through the empty mansion.
Luca stood still for a long time.
Then he turned and walked back to his father’s wheelchair.
He knelt down again, resting his forehead against the armrest.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Luca whispered, his voice finally breaking. “I’m so sorry I wasn't here.”
Arthur reached out his trembling hand and rested it on Luca’s dark hair.
“You’re… here… now,” Arthur breathed.
I wiped my tears with the edge of my apron, feeling like I was intruding on an incredibly private moment. I started to quietly gather the dirty plates, intending to slip back into the kitchen.
But as I reached for Arthur’s plate, the old man caught my wrist.
He didn't let go.
He looked at Luca.
“The girl,” Arthur said, his voice surprisingly firm.
Luca looked up, wiping his eyes. “What about her, Dad?”
Arthur pointed a shaky finger at me.
“She… stays.”
Luca looked at me. He saw the worn uniform, the swollen ankles, the absolute exhaustion radiating from every part of my body.
“Of course she stays,” Luca said softly. “She’s not a maid anymore.”
I froze. “Mr. Moretti, I need this job. My rent—”
“You’re moving into the east wing tomorrow,” Luca interrupted gently. “You’ll be my father’s personal caregiver. Your salary is tripled. And we’ll set up a nursery for the baby.”
I couldn't breathe. It was too much. The relief was so sudden and overwhelming that my knees finally gave out.
I collapsed into the chair, burying my face in my hands.
Everything was going to be okay.
But as I sat there crying, Arthur reached into the pocket of his gray cardigan one more time.
He pulled out something small and heavy.
He placed it on the table.
It was a thick gold pocket watch.
Luca stared at it. “Dad? That’s Michael’s watch.”
Arthur shook his head.
“Not… Michael’s,” the old man whispered.
He opened the face of the watch.
Tucked inside the lid was a tiny, faded photograph.
May you like
It was a picture of my mother.
“It’s… hers,” Arthur said, looking directly at me.
