Chapter 3 - THE SIGNATURE IN THE SILVER LOCKET
Vanessa stared at the crumpled dry-cleaning receipt in Luca’s hand.
The silence in the empty library was deafening.
"I… I don't know what that is," Vanessa stammered, taking a step back.
Luca took a step forward.
"It’s a receipt from Valet Cleaners on Oak Street. Dated October 14th, two days before Elena’s accident. And it has your signature at the bottom, authorizing the pickup of a woman's winter coat."
Mia looked up at her father. "Daddy, why would Vanessa’s paper be inside Mommy's locket?"
Luca didn't answer his daughter. His eyes were locked on his fiancée.
"Elena never let anyone touch this locket," Luca said, his voice dangerously calm. "She told Mia it held a secret. She wore it every day. The police gave it to me in a plastic evidence bag the night she died, and I placed it in this room."
He stepped closer to Vanessa.
"So how did a receipt with your signature end up folded inside it?"
Vanessa’s chest heaved. "She must have picked it up! She was always going through my things, Luca. Elena was paranoid. You know she was!"
"Do not speak her name," Luca warned softly.
Vanessa flinched. "It's just a piece of paper, Luca. It means nothing."
"It means you were in this room the night she died," Luca stated. "It means you opened the locket before the police gave it back to me. Because you were looking for something."
I stood frozen near the door, wishing I were invisible.
But then, a heavy footstep echoed in the hallway.
Marco stepped into the doorway.
He was Luca’s head of security. Broad-shouldered, quiet, and fiercely loyal to the Moretti family for over a decade.
"Boss," Marco said, his deep voice interrupting the tension. "Your guests downstairs are asking if everything is alright."
Luca didn't look at him. "Tell them dinner is over. Have the valets bring their cars around."
Marco nodded. "Understood."
But as Marco turned to leave, Vanessa suddenly rushed toward him, grabbing his arm.
"Marco, tell him!" she pleaded, her voice rising in panic. "Tell him I was with you the night of the accident. Tell him we were at the charity gala the entire evening!"
Marco stopped.
He looked at Vanessa’s hand gripping his sleeve. Then he looked at Luca.
For a fraction of a second, I saw something flash in Marco’s eyes. A silent warning.
"Miss Bellini was at the gala, Boss," Marco said evenly. "I drove her there myself."
Luca studied his head of security.
"And you never left her side?" Luca asked.
"No, sir."
Luca looked back down at the receipt. Then, without another word, he pocketed it.
"Take Mia to her room, Rachel," Luca ordered. "Stay with her until I come upstairs."
"Yes, Mr. Moretti."
I gently took Mia’s hand. She was trembling. We walked past Vanessa, who was taking shallow, ragged breaths, and past Marco, whose face was completely unreadable.
As we walked down the grand hallway toward Mia’s bedroom, the little girl gripped my hand tighter.
"Miss Rachel?" she whispered.
"I'm right here, sweetheart."
"Vanessa is lying."
I stopped and looked down at her. "Why do you say that, Mia?"
Mia reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a small, heavy object.
It was a man’s silver cufflink.
Shaped like a wolf’s head.
"I found this under the boxes when you picked up the locket," Mia whispered.
My blood ran cold.
Every bodyguard in the Moretti family wore standard black cufflinks.
Only one man wore custom silver wolves.
Marco.
He had been in that locked room.
"Mia," I whispered, my heart pounding. "You have to give that to your father."
"I can't," she said, her eyes filling with fresh tears.
"Why not?"
She opened her other hand.
Resting in her small palm was a crumpled photograph. It looked like it had been torn from a hidden album.
It was a picture of Marco and Vanessa.
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They weren't at a charity gala. They were standing in front of Elena Moretti's crashed car.
And Vanessa was wearing Elena’s winter coat.
