Chapter 3 - THE PHOTOGRAPH IN THE ASHES
Vanessa didn’t flinch.
She stood perfectly straight, the diamonds on her neck glittering under the chandelier.
“I donate to dozens of charities, Matteo. My family’s old toys are given to the poor constantly. You’re grasping at straws.”
She turned to the guests, plastering on a painful, tight smile.
“I apologize for this interruption. The staff will clear these people out immediately.”
No one moved.
The guests were paralyzed, watching Matteo.
He hadn’t taken his eyes off the scorched wooden train in my hand.
“Claire,” Matteo said quietly. “Take Leo and Eleanor into the study. Lock the door.”
“No!” Vanessa snapped, her composure cracking. “They leave my house now!”
“It is not your house,” Matteo said.
His voice didn't rise, but it carried a weight that made Vanessa step back.
“It has never been your house.”
I took Leo’s small hand. It was freezing cold.
Eleanor leaned heavily on my shoulder as we walked toward the heavy oak doors of the study.
As we crossed the threshold, Leo stopped.
He looked back at Vanessa.
“You smell like the lady,” the six-year-old said.
The room fell dead silent.
Matteo knelt down to the boy’s eye level.
“What lady, Leo?”
Leo gripped the wooden train tightly against his chest.
“The lady who came to our house. Before the fire. She smelled like those flowers.”
He pointed at the massive arrangement of white lilies on the dining table.
Vanessa’s signature perfume. Custom-made in Paris. Lily and white amber.
“He’s a child,” Vanessa spat, her hands clenching into fists. “He’s traumatized. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
“I know what I saw,” Leo whispered, his voice trembling but defiant.
He reached into his small pocket.
“She dropped this.”
He pulled out a crumpled, slightly burned piece of glossy paper.
Matteo stood up and took it from the boy.
It was a photograph.
Or rather, half of one. The edges were charred brown and black.
I peered over Matteo’s arm.
The photo showed Vanessa, much younger, standing next to a man whose face was burned away.
But it wasn't the people that made Matteo’s breath hitch.
It was what Vanessa was holding in the picture.
A heavy, distinct gold pocket watch.
“Where did you get this photo, Leo?” Matteo asked, his voice strained.
“It was under the floorboards,” Leo said. “My daddy hid it there. He told me if anything happened to him, I had to give it to you.”
Matteo stared at the image.
He slowly reached into his own suit jacket.
He pulled out a gold pocket watch, attached to a chain.
It was identical to the one in the photo.
“This was my father’s,” Matteo whispered. “It was stolen the night he was murdered.”
Vanessa took a step back toward the door.
“Matteo…”
“You told me you never met my father,” Matteo said, raising his eyes to her.
“I didn't! That photo is doctored!”
“Then why are you wearing his watch in a photograph hidden by a man who burned to death three years ago?”
Robert the attorney slammed his briefcase shut.
“Matteo, I strongly advise we stop this right now. If we proceed, the police will—”
“Let them come,” Matteo interrupted.
He walked toward Vanessa, the photograph in one hand, the watch in the other.
“My father’s murder was ruled a mob hit. A rival family.”
Vanessa backed up until she hit the edge of the dining table.
“It was! Everyone knows it was!”
“But my father wasn't wearing his watch when he was found,” Matteo said, his voice dropping to a deadly calm.
He held the photo up.
“And here you are, holding a watch with his initials engraved on the lid, standing next to a man whose face is burned out.”
Matteo turned to me.
“Claire. Call security. No one leaves this room.”
I reached for the house phone on the wall.
But before I could dial, the heavy dining room doors burst open.
Four men in dark suits stepped inside.
They weren't Matteo’s men.
I recognized the leader. It was Marco, Vanessa’s brother.
He pulled back his jacket, revealing the handle of a firearm.
“Nobody is calling anyone,” Marco smiled coldly.
He looked at Matteo.
“Vanessa is right, darling. It’s time for the staff to leave.”
Marco pulled a folded piece of paper from his inner pocket.
“Because as of ten minutes ago, a judge approved the emergency transfer.”
May you like
He tossed the paper onto the table.
“You don't own this house anymore, Matteo.”
