Chapter 2 - THE NURSE IN THE SERVANTS' QUARTERS
“What did you just say?”
Matteo’s voice was barely a whisper, but it made the crystal glasses on the table vibrate.
Vanessa took a step back, her red satin gown brushing against the mahogany chairs.
“I said it’s a mistake, Matteo. A forgery.”
She looked at Robert, the attorney, her eyes flashing with sudden venom.
“Someone is trying to extort us. You can’t possibly believe your dead mother signed a document last Thursday.”
I kept my hand firmly over Eleanor’s.
The older woman was shaking, her broken shoe still held together by the ribbon from my apron.
“She didn’t sign it last Thursday,” Eleanor said softly.
The entire room turned to her.
“She signed it seven years ago, Vanessa.”
Matteo walked around the table, placing himself between his fiancée and the woman who had practically raised him.
“Explain, Ellie.”
“Before your mother passed,” Eleanor began, her voice gaining strength, “she knew certain people in your circle would try to undo her charities. She knew the west wing and the cottages were prime real estate.”
Vanessa let out a sharp, dismissive laugh.
“This is absurd. She was a maid, Matteo. She’s making this up to save her squalid little house.”
“She isn’t making it up,” a new voice echoed from the hallway.
Everyone turned.
Standing in the doorway was Miriam.
She was fifty-nine, wearing a faded gray cardigan, and holding the hand of a small, terrified-looking six-year-old boy.
It was Leo, Eleanor’s orphaned grandson.
I had seen him playing near the estate gates years ago. He was clutching a battered wooden toy train against his chest.
“Miriam,” Matteo said, recognizing the retired hospice nurse who had cared for his mother in her final days.
“Mr. DeLuca,” Miriam nodded respectfully.
She walked into the grand dining room, completely ignoring the wealthy guests staring at her.
She stopped in front of Matteo and reached into her pocket.
She didn’t pull out another legal document.
Instead, she placed a heavy, tarnished silver rosary onto the pristine white tablecloth.
I recognized it instantly. It had belonged to Matteo’s mother.
“She made me promise to keep this,” Miriam said quietly. “She said I was only to bring it back to this house if the cottages were ever threatened.”
Matteo stared at the rosary.
His hand trembled slightly as he picked it up.
“This was buried with her.”
“No,” Miriam corrected gently. “A replica was buried with her. She gave me the original because of what is hidden inside the crucifix.”
Vanessa’s face drained of all color.
She lunged forward, reaching for the rosary.
“Don’t touch that! It’s grave robbery!”
Matteo caught Vanessa’s wrist mid-air.
His grip wasn’t violent, but it was absolutely immovable.
“Sit down, Claire,” he commanded, never taking his eyes off his fiancée.
I didn’t realize he was talking to me until I felt Eleanor pull my arm gently. We both stepped back against the wall.
Matteo looked at the heavy silver crucifix in his hand.
With his thumb, he pressed the small ruby set in the center of the cross.
There was a tiny click.
The back of the crucifix slid open like a locket.
Inside was a microscopic, tightly rolled piece of parchment, and a small brass key.
Matteo unrolled the paper.
He read it in silence.
The dining room was so quiet I could hear six-year-old Leo breathing heavily, hiding behind Miriam’s leg.
Matteo looked up. The warmth in his eyes was completely gone.
“My mother didn’t just sign a transfer to protect the cottages,” he said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
He turned the paper toward Vanessa.
“She signed a confession. Detailing exactly how your father forced her to sign away the family trust before she died.”
Vanessa’s lips parted, but no sound came out.
“And this key,” Matteo continued, holding up the tiny brass object, “opens the safety deposit box where she hid the proof.”
Robert, the attorney, wiped his forehead with a napkin.
“Matteo, if that’s true… Vanessa’s entire company is built on stolen assets.”
Vanessa finally found her voice.
“Matteo, darling, you can’t believe a senile woman and a disgruntled maid over your future wife.”
She pointed a manicured finger at Leo.
“Look at them! They’re using a child to manipulate your emotions!”
Leo shrank back, dropping his wooden train.
It clattered loudly against the marble floor.
I stepped forward and picked it up.
As I handed it back to the boy, I noticed something carved into the bottom of the toy.
I froze.
“Mr. DeLuca,” I whispered.
Matteo turned to me.
I held up the wooden train.
“This carving… it’s the crest of Vanessa’s family company.”
Matteo frowned, stepping closer to examine the toy.
He looked at Eleanor.
“Where did Leo get this?”
Eleanor swallowed hard, her eyes darting toward Vanessa in absolute terror.
“He didn’t get it, Matteo,” she whispered. “He found it. In the ashes of his parents' house.”
Matteo went rigid.
Leo’s parents had died in a tragic fire three years ago—a fire everyone had been told was an electrical accident.
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Matteo slowly turned his gaze back to Vanessa.
“Why does a toy from your family’s private estate have burn marks on it?”
