Chương 3 - THE MISSING WATCH
“My father had a severe stroke six months ago,” I said, my voice shaking as I stood in Luca’s study. “He can’t walk. He can barely speak. He hasn’t left the rehab facility since April.”
Luca stared at the yellow pawn ticket on his desk. The item listed was simple: Silver Pocket Watch. Engraved.
“Emma,” Luca said gently, leaning forward in his leather chair. “Does your father own a silver pocket watch?”
I swallowed hard. “Yes. It was his grandfather’s. He never took it off. Even in the hospital, he kept it on his bedside table. He said it kept him grounded.”
“Then why does my fiancée have a pawn ticket for it?”
I didn’t have an answer. My mind was spinning. I was a housekeeper making fifteen dollars an hour. I took this job because the tips were good and I needed to pay for my dad’s physical therapy. We were nobodies. We didn’t intersect with the Moretti syndicate or the Bellini family.
“Get your coat,” Luca said, standing up and grabbing his car keys. “We’re going to the facility.”
“Mr. Moretti, it’s past midnight. Visiting hours are over.”
“I own the building,” he replied flatly.
Twenty minutes later, Luca’s black SUV pulled up to the Oak Creek Rehabilitation Center. The night staff scrambled when they saw Luca walk through the sliding doors, parting like the Red Sea.
I led him down the quiet, sterile hallway to Room 114.
When I pushed the door open, my heart dropped.
My father was awake. He was thrashing weakly against his bed rails, his monitor beeping rapidly. His eyes were wide with panic, darting around the dim room.
“Dad!” I ran to his side, grabbing his trembling hand. “Dad, it’s me. It’s Emma. I’m here.”
He looked at me, his breathing ragged. He tried to speak, but only a strained, guttural sound came out. With his good hand, he pointed frantically toward his bedside table.
The small plastic drawer was pulled open.
It was empty.
“The watch is gone,” I whispered, looking back at Luca.
Luca stepped into the room. His presence was large and intimidating, but when he looked at my father, his expression softened.
“Mr. Reed,” Luca said quietly. “My name is Luca Moretti.”
My father froze. The panic in his eyes shifted instantly into something else.
Recognition.
And sheer, unadulterated terror.
My dad grabbed my wrist with surprising strength, pulling me closer. He looked at Luca, then at me, and began shaking his head violently.
“Dad, it’s okay,” I tried to soothe him. “He’s my boss. He’s helping me.”
My father kept shaking his head. He pointed a trembling finger at Luca, then tapped his own chest, right over his heart.
“What is he trying to say?” Luca asked, stepping closer.
Before I could answer, the night nurse rushed into the room, out of breath. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Reed! He’s been agitated for the last hour.”
“Who was in here?” Luca demanded, turning to the nurse. His mafia-boss authority bled into the room, making the temperature drop.
The nurse swallowed nervously. “Just… just his other daughter, sir.”
I stood up slowly. “I don’t have a sister.”
“She came in right before shift change,” the nurse stammered. “Beautiful woman. Dark hair. Smelled like expensive perfume. She said she was picking up his watch to get it repaired.”
Vanessa.
“Did she leave anything?” Luca asked.
The nurse nodded quickly. “Yes. She left a coat. She said Mr. Reed would want it.”
The nurse went to the closet and pulled out a garment. She handed it to me.
It was a heavy, navy blue wool coat. A child’s coat.
I looked at my father. He was weeping silently, staring at the small jacket.
I reached into the tiny pocket of the coat. My fingers brushed against a piece of folded paper.
I pulled it out and opened it under the fluorescent hospital light.
It was a birth certificate.
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The mother’s name was listed as Clara Reed. My older sister, who died in a car accident twelve years ago.
And the child’s name was Leo Moretti.
