Chapter 6 - THE TICKET IN THE LINING
The fire engines finally arrived, dousing the cottage in heavy streams of water.
But the damage was done. The roof caved in with a sickening crunch.
Eleanor sat in the back of an ambulance, an oxygen mask over her face, holding Thomas’s hand.
Leo was asleep on my lap, exhausted by the terror of the night.
Matteo stood by the yellow police tape, staring at the ruined house, the broken diamond bracelet dangling from his fingers.
I carefully shifted Leo’s weight and walked over to him.
“Mr. DeLuca?” I said softly.
He didn't turn around.
“My father knew Vanessa’s family was dangerous,” Matteo said quietly. “He always warned me not to trust the Bellinis. He said they played games with people's lives.”
He finally turned to look at me.
“If Victoria is alive... it means Vanessa didn't just forge my mother’s signature. She’s been using her dead sister as a ghost to do her dirty work.”
I looked at the bracelet.
“But why would Victoria pull Thomas out of the fire? Marco said they locked him inside to burn.”
Matteo frowned, rubbing his temple.
“I don't know. Maybe Marco set the fire, and Victoria panicked. Or maybe...”
He stopped.
“Maybe Victoria is the one who sent Eleanor the eviction notices in the first place.”
Matteo suddenly grabbed my arm.
“Claire. Where is Eleanor’s handbag?”
I blinked, surprised by the sudden urgency.
“It’s in the ambulance. Why?”
“Get it.”
I ran to the ambulance and retrieved the worn leather purse.
Matteo snatched it from my hands and dug through it until he found the forged eviction notice Eleanor had brought to dinner.
He held it up to the flashing red lights of the fire truck.
“Look at the signature,” Matteo said, pointing to the bottom of the page.
It was his own name, flawlessly forged.
“I don't understand,” I said.
Matteo reached into his jacket and pulled out his father’s pocket watch—the one from the photograph.
He held the watch right next to the signature on the paper.
“Look at the ink.”
I squinted.
The eviction notice wasn't printed by a computer. The signature was written in a very distinct, dark purple ink.
Matteo opened the pocket watch.
Inside the lid, where his father’s initials were engraved, there was a tiny smudge of the exact same purple ink.
“Vanessa didn't write this,” Matteo whispered.
“How do you know?”
“Because Vanessa is left-handed. The pressure on these loops...” He traced the ink with his finger. “This was written by someone right-handed. Someone who had my father’s watch when they signed it.”
He looked up at me.
“Victoria has the watch. Victoria forged the papers. Victoria saved Thomas.”
“But why?” I asked, my head spinning.
Before Matteo could answer, my phone buzzed in my apron pocket.
I pulled it out.
It was a text from Miriam, the retired nurse back at the mansion.
“Claire, you need to get back here right now. Vanessa is packing a bag. She’s trying to leave the country.”
I showed the screen to Matteo.
His jaw tightened.
“She’s making a run for it.”
He turned to the paramedics. “Take them to the private hospital downtown. Put them under the DeLuca name. Nobody touches them.”
He grabbed my arm. “Come on.”
We sped back to the mansion, the tires tearing up the grass as we parked near the service entrance.
The house was eerily quiet. The guests had fled.
We ran up the grand staircase to the master suite.
The door was wide open.
Clothes were thrown everywhere. Drawers were yanked open.
Vanessa was standing by the bed, frantically stuffing jewelry into a leather duffel bag.
She froze when she saw us in the doorway.
She looked terrified, but not of Matteo.
She looked like a hunted animal.
“Where are you going, Vanessa?” Matteo asked, stepping into the room.
Vanessa zipped the bag aggressively.
“I’m leaving, Matteo. And if you’re smart, you’ll let me.”
“You’re not going anywhere until you tell me where your sister is.”
Vanessa dropped the bag. It hit the floor with a heavy thud.
She stared at him, her eyes wide.
“Who told you about Victoria?” she whispered.
Matteo threw the broken diamond bracelet onto the bed.
“She left this at the cottage. After she pulled Thomas out of the fire your brother started.”
Vanessa stared at the bracelet.
Then, to my absolute shock, she began to cry.
“She’s going to kill me, Matteo.”
Vanessa collapsed onto the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands.
“She wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposed to stay in Europe.”
“Start talking,” Matteo demanded.
Vanessa looked up, her mascara running down her cheeks.
“Fifteen years ago, my father faked Victoria’s death because she found out the truth about his business. She wanted to go to the police. So he locked her away in a clinic in Switzerland.”
Vanessa swallowed hard.
“But two months ago... she escaped.”
Matteo stepped closer.
“And she came here?”
“She came for revenge,” Vanessa sobbed. “Against my family. She forged the eviction notices to draw you out. To make you turn against Marco and me.”
Vanessa reached for her coat on the chair.
As she pulled it toward her, a small piece of paper fluttered out of the pocket and landed on the rug.
I bent down and picked it up.
It was a plane ticket.
First-class. Leaving tonight for Geneva.
But it wasn't under Vanessa’s name.
I looked at the passenger name and felt the blood drain from my face.
“Matteo,” I whispered, handing him the ticket.
He read the name.
It said Claire Evans.
My name.
Matteo looked from the ticket to me, then back to Vanessa.
“Why do you have a ticket under my maid’s name?”
Vanessa’s sobbing stopped instantly.
She slowly lowered her hands from her face.
May you like
The tears were gone. Her expression was completely blank.
“Because,” Vanessa said, her voice dropping an octave, completely devoid of emotion. “Vanessa is already dead.”
