Chapter 3 - THE HIDDEN LEDGER
The silver rosary dangled from Teresa’s trembling fingers.
I recognized it instantly.
For the past ten months, that rosary had been locked inside a glass display case in Luca’s private library. It had belonged to his late mother.
Luca gently took it from his aunt’s hand.
“Vanessa took this from my study?”
Teresa nodded, wiping her eyes.
“She said she had it appraised. But she found the engraving on the back of the cross.”
Luca turned the silver cross over.
Even in the dim station lighting, I could see the tiny, etched numbers.
“She knows it’s not just a date,” Teresa whispered. “She knows it’s an account number. The offshore account your father set up before the feds raided the house eighteen years ago.”
My stomach dropped.
Luca’s father hadn’t died a wealthy businessman. He died under federal investigation. Teresa had taken Luca in when everything collapsed.
“Vanessa told me,” Teresa continued, her voice breaking, “that if I didn’t disappear before the wedding, she would give that account number to the feds. She would have you arrested for hiding your father’s illicit money.”
Luca closed his eyes.
When he opened them, the anger in his gaze was terrifying.
“Aunt Teresa,” he said softly. “There is no money in that account.”
Teresa blinked. “What?”
“I emptied it ten years ago. I donated every single cent to the children’s hospital that treated my mother’s cancer. It’s a dead account.”
Teresa stared at him.
“But… Vanessa said—”
“Vanessa lied,” Luca interrupted. “She wanted you gone, and she knew exactly how to scare you.”
He stood up, his massive frame casting a shadow over the bench.
He turned to Daniel, who had just walked up.
“Cancel the train. We’re going home.”
We rode back to the estate in absolute silence.
The engagement dinner was still happening in the main dining room. I could hear the faint sound of a string quartet as we slipped through the side entrance.
“Julia,” Luca said quietly. “Take my aunt to the west wing guest room. Stay with her. Lock the door.”
“Yes, sir.”
I helped Teresa down the hall.
But as we passed Luca’s private study, I saw him walk inside and head straight for the wall safe behind the painting.
He punched in the code.
The heavy steel door swung open.
Luca reached inside.
He froze.
I stopped walking. “Mr. Moretti? Is everything alright?”
He didn’t answer.
He slowly pulled his hand out of the safe.
He wasn’t holding documents.
He wasn’t holding jewelry.
He was holding a single, crumpled piece of paper.
A child’s drawing of a house with a red door.
May you like
And scrawled across the top in bright red crayon were the words:
They don’t know.
