Chapter 3 - THE BLOOD ON THE PLATINUM RING
I stared at the dried blood on the platinum wedding band.
My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped it onto the mahogany desk.
Marco’s ring.
Elena’s husband hadn’t been in an accident. He hadn’t lost his phone. He had been intercepted, and Vanessa was directly involved.
I had to tell Luca.
I shoved the ring into the pocket of my uniform apron and grabbed the landline on the desk to call Daniel’s cell.
But before I could dial, the heavy oak door of the study clicked shut.
I spun around.
Vanessa was standing in the doorway.
Her red silk gown was torn at the hem. Her makeup was smeared. She looked frantic, cornered, and incredibly dangerous.
“Daniel locked you in the east wing,” I breathed, backing away from the desk.
Vanessa gave a bitter, breathless laugh.
“Daniel is an idiot,” she spat. “He left the adjoining bathroom window unlocked. Where is my purse, Grace?”
“I don't know,” I lied, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Her eyes darted to the desk and landed on her designer tote bag. She lunged forward, shoving me out of the way. She unzipped the bag and plunged her hands inside, frantically searching the bottom.
Her face went pale.
She turned to me, her eyes manic.
“Where is it?” she demanded. “Where is the ring?”
I took another step back toward the fireplace. “Mr. Moretti ordered me to pack your things. That’s all I’m doing.”
Vanessa grabbed a heavy brass letter opener from the desk.
“You pathetic little maid,” she sneered, pointing the sharp brass tip at my chest. “You think you’re protecting Elena? You have no idea what you’ve stumbled into. Give me the ring, or I will make sure your mother’s medical bills stop getting paid permanently.”
My breath caught in my throat.
She knew about my mother.
“How do you know about that?” I whispered.
“I ran background checks on all the staff,” Vanessa smiled coldly. “I know your mother is in a care facility. I know your brother is at NYU. Give me Marco’s ring, Grace. If I leave without it, Michael will kill me.”
“Why?” I asked, trying to keep her talking while I inched toward the fireplace poker. “Why do you have Marco’s wedding ring?”
“Because Marco wouldn’t sign the trust over!” Vanessa yelled, her composure completely shattering. “Michael and I needed the Moretti money. Marco was in the way. He was going to warn Luca about the forged documents!”
“Where is he?” I demanded.
Vanessa laughed, a terrible, desperate sound.
“He’s at the bottom of the Chicago River by now. Michael took care of him three hours ago. The ring was my proof that the job was done.”
My stomach violently turned.
Elena’s husband was dead.
She was at the hospital, fighting for her baby, and she had no idea she was already a widow.
My fingers wrapped around the heavy iron handle of the fireplace poker.
“Put the letter opener down, Miss Bellini,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady.
Vanessa’s eyes flashed. She lunged at me.
I swung the iron poker, striking her wrist hard.
She screamed, dropping the brass letter opener as she fell to her knees.
I didn't wait. I ran to the study door, threw it open, and collided straight into Daniel's massive chest.
“Grace!” Daniel grunted, catching my shoulders. “What happened? How did she get out?”
“She went through the bathroom window!” I gasped, pointing to Vanessa on the floor. “Daniel, she has Marco’s ring. Michael Grant murdered him. They’re trying to steal Elena’s baby and the trust fund!”
Daniel stared at me.
His face was completely unreadable.
He looked at Vanessa on the floor holding her wrist.
Then he looked back at me.
“Is that so?” Daniel asked softly.
Before I could react, Daniel’s large hand clamped down over my mouth.
I screamed into his palm, kicking wildly.
Vanessa slowly stood up, cradling her bruised wrist. She smiled at Daniel.
“You took your time,” she hissed.
“I had to clear the hallway,” Daniel replied calmly, still holding me in a brutal grip. “Did you get the ring?”
“No,” Vanessa pointed at me. “The little rat has it in her pocket.”
Daniel’s free hand reached into my apron and pulled out the platinum band.
My world tilted sideways.
Daniel, Luca’s most trusted head of security, was working for them.
“Tie her up,” Vanessa ordered, wiping the smeared lipstick from her mouth. “We need to leave before Luca calls the house.”
Daniel pulled a zip-tie from his jacket.
But as he let go of my mouth to grab my wrists, I bit his hand as hard as I could.
He cursed and stumbled back.
I bolted out of the study and sprinted down the grand hallway. My lungs burned. I didn't head for the front door—Daniel’s men would be there.
I headed for the basement stairs.
I slammed the heavy door behind me, threw the deadbolt, and ran down into the dark cellar. I hid behind a stack of vintage wine crates, shaking uncontrollably.
I pulled my cell phone from my pocket to call Luca.
But there was no signal in the basement.
Footsteps began pounding down the wooden stairs.
“Grace,” Daniel’s voice echoed in the dark. “Don't make this harder than it has to be.”
I pressed my hands over my mouth to quiet my breathing.
Then, my eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight filtering through a small ground-level window.
Sitting on top of a dusty wine barrel next to me was a folded child’s drawing. It must have fallen through the laundry chute from the guest room.
I picked it up.
It was a crayon drawing of a house, a man, a woman, and a little boy.
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Written at the bottom in messy, childish handwriting were five words that blew the entire conspiracy wide open:
“To Mommy Vanessa, from Leo.”
