Chapter 3 - THE WATERMARK
I froze with a folded towel in my hands.
"What did you say, Ava?"
The twelve-year-old carefully placed the silver-framed photograph back on the dresser.
"I saw Mommy write the letter," she repeated, her voice steady but barely a whisper. "The one in the pouch. She wrote it the night before the accident."
"But your dad said the ink was fresh," I reasoned, my mind racing. "He said the paper belonged to the Bellini family."
"I don't know about the paper," Ava said, looking down at her muddy shoes. "But I know what Mommy wrote. I sneaked out of bed and watched her. She was crying. She tied it to Copper's saddle herself."
A chill ran down my spine.
If Caroline had truly written a letter and placed it in the pouch, then where was it?
And why would Vanessa replace it with a forgery?
"Ava, honey," I said, crouching down to her eye level. "Did you ever read what your mom actually wrote?"
She shook her head. "No. The pouch was tied really tight. I tried to open it once last year, but Vanessa caught me. She told me the letter was a secret between her and Mommy, and that I'd ruin everything if I touched it again."
"Vanessa and your mom didn't know each other," I said gently. "Vanessa didn't meet your dad until two years after your mom passed away."
Ava looked at me, her brown eyes wide and confused. "But Vanessa said she was Mommy's best friend."
The floor seemed to tilt beneath me.
Vanessa Bellini had infiltrated this family much deeper, and much earlier, than anyone realized.
"Miss Rachel," Ava whispered, reaching into the pocket of her pale-blue dress. "When Vanessa caught me trying to open the pouch last year... she dropped this."
Ava pulled her hand from her pocket.
Resting in her palm was a heavy, silver key.
"What is that?" I asked.
"I don't know. But Vanessa was really angry when she couldn't find it. She tore my room apart looking for it. I hid it inside my riding boot."
I gently took the key. It was old, intricate, and heavy. It wasn't a standard house key or a car key.
Engraved on the metal were three letters: S.D.B.
Safe Deposit Box.
Before I could ask another question, the bedroom door clicked shut.
I spun around.
Vanessa Bellini was standing inside the room.
Her silk dress was torn at the hem. Her makeup was smeared.
And in her hand, she was holding the heavy iron fireplace poker from the hallway.
"Give me the key, Rachel," she whispered, her eyes locked on the silver metal in my hand.
I instinctively shoved Ava behind me and slipped the key into my apron pocket.
"Miss Vanessa, Mr. Moretti asked you to leave."
Vanessa's grip on the iron poker tightened. Her knuckles were white.
"I don't take orders from a maid," she hissed. "Give me the key. Now."
Ava grabbed the back of my uniform. I could feel her shaking.
"Don't give it to her, Miss Rachel," she whispered. "She's a bad lady."
"Your job," Vanessa mocked, taking a slow step forward. "Your job is scrubbing toilets to pay for your mother's hospital bills. Did you really think I didn't background-check the staff? I know about the clinic in Ohio. I know about the money you send."
My blood ran cold.
"Give me the key," Vanessa demanded. "Or tomorrow morning, I make one phone call to the clinic’s director, who happens to be a close friend of my father, and your mother is discharged to the street."
She was bluffing. She had to be.
But if she wasn't, my mother would lose her care.
I felt Ava's small hand squeeze mine.
"Miss Rachel, she's lying."
Vanessa raised the iron poker an inch higher. "I was going to send this brat to a boarding school in Switzerland. Luca would have eventually forgotten about her. We would have started a new family. But you..." She glared at me. "You had to interfere with that pathetic horse."
"You forged a letter from a dead woman," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "To convince Luca to send his own daughter away."
"I did what I had to do!" Vanessa shrieked. "Caroline was weak! She was going to ruin everything!"
She lunged forward, swinging the heavy iron poker.
I didn't think. I reacted.
I shoved Ava back onto the bed and grabbed Vanessa’s wrist with both hands. I wasn't wealthy, and I didn't wear silk, but I had spent my entire life working on my feet. I was stronger than her.
I twisted her wrist hard.
Vanessa screamed, dropping the iron poker. It hit the hardwood floor with a deafening clang.
The bedroom door flew open.
Luca stood in the doorway.
He had taken off his suit jacket. His tie was loosened. But the look in his eyes was something I had never seen before. It was the look of a man who ruled the Chicago underworld.
He looked at the iron poker on the floor.
He looked at Vanessa clutching her wrist.
Then he looked at me, standing protectively over his daughter.
"Luca," Vanessa gasped, immediately forcing tears into her eyes. "Thank God. She attacked me. The maid—she went crazy. I came to say goodbye to Ava, and she pushed me!"
Luca didn't look at her.
He walked slowly into the room. He bypassed Vanessa entirely and crouched in front of his daughter.
"Are you hurt, baby?"
Ava shook her head. "No, Daddy. Miss Rachel protected me."
Luca stood up. He turned to me. "What happened, Rachel?"
I reached into my apron pocket and pulled out the heavy silver key. My hands were shaking, the adrenaline fading, leaving me terrified of the consequences.
"Ava found this last year. Vanessa dropped it. She just came back to take it from her."
I handed him the key.
Luca examined the metal. He read the engraving. S.D.B.
The silence in the room was absolute.
"A safe deposit box," Luca said quietly. "Where is it, Vanessa?"
Vanessa backed toward the door. "Luca, I can explain. It's just family jewelry. I was going to surprise you."
"You forged my dead wife's handwriting," Luca said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, gravelly whisper. "You tried to send my daughter away. And you threatened my staff with a weapon."
He pocketed the key.
"If you are not gone in five minutes," Luca said, "I will not ask you to leave. I will have my men remove you. And you will not like how they do it."
Vanessa stared at him, realizing for the first time who she was actually dealing with. She wasn't dealing with a businessman. She was dealing with a boss.
She turned and fled down the hallway.
Luca closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"Rachel," he said softly.
"Yes, sir."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome, sir."
He walked over to the dresser and picked up the silver-framed photograph of Caroline. He stared at it for a long time.
"Ava," Luca said, without turning around. "Did you ever see what your mother put in that pouch?"
Ava shook her head. "No, Daddy. But..."
"But what, sweetheart?"
"She put something else with it," Ava whispered. "Something metal. It clinked against the leather."
Luca turned around. He looked at the safe deposit key in his hand.
"I'm going to find out what she left us," he promised.
Suddenly, a loud, frantic knocking echoed through the silent house. It wasn't coming from the front doors.
It was coming from the kitchen service entrance at the back of the estate.
Luca's hand instinctively went to his waist, beneath his jacket, resting on the cold steel of a concealed firearm.
He signaled for me to stay back.
He walked into the dark kitchen and opened the heavy steel service door.
A man was standing in the rain, panting, his suit soaked through.
It was Mr. Sterling, Luca's personal estate lawyer.
And he wasn't looking at Luca.
May you like
He looked directly past the mafia boss, his eyes locking onto me.
"Rachel," the lawyer gasped, clutching a wet leather briefcase to his chest. "I need to talk to you. They know who you really are."
