Chapter 11 - THE MASTERMIND IN THE TERMINAL
The silence in the dining room felt like a physical weight pressing against my chest.
Thirty-two guests had stopped breathing.
Luca Moretti stared at the elderly woman sitting beside him, his face completely drained of color.
"Caroline's daughter," Luca whispered, the words tearing out of him.
Mrs. Whitmore nodded, her silver hair trembling as she kept her eyes locked on him.
Vanessa stood at the other end of the table, her red silk gown suddenly looking like a target. Her hands gripped the back of her chair so tightly her knuckles were white.
"Mother, stop this," Vanessa commanded, her voice high and panicked. "You're confused. Caroline died in a car accident nine years ago. She was alone."
Luca didn't look at his fiancée.
He kept his dark eyes on Mrs. Whitmore.
"My wife was pregnant when she died," Luca said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, hollow register. "The paramedics told me she didn't survive the impact. They told me our baby didn't survive."
Mrs. Whitmore began to cry, the tears spilling over her wrinkled cheeks.
"She didn't die on impact, Mr. Moretti," the old woman wept. "She survived long enough to reach the private clinic."
The room spun.
I gripped my bandaged left hand with my right, the throbbing pain completely forgotten.
Luca slowly stood up.
"What clinic?"
Mrs. Whitmore looked down at the tablecloth.
"The one Vanessa's father owned."
Vanessa took a step backward, knocking her champagne glass over. The crystal shattered against the hardwood floor, but nobody looked at it.
"She's lying!" Vanessa screamed. "Luca, look at her! She's senile!"
"I was the head nurse on shift that night," Mrs. Whitmore said, her voice suddenly steady, cutting through Vanessa's hysteria.
Luca walked slowly around the table, stopping directly in front of his fiancée.
He didn't raise his hands. He didn't yell.
"Did my wife give birth to my daughter?" Luca asked.
Vanessa opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
"Answer me," Luca said, his voice shaking with a rage that terrified everyone in the room.
Vanessa began to sob.
"Luca, you don't understand," she pleaded, reaching for his arm. "Caroline was dying. She was bleeding out. The baby was premature. My father... he said the baby wouldn't make it either."
"But she did make it," Mrs. Whitmore said from her chair.
Luca looked back at the old woman.
"Yes," Mrs. Whitmore said. "A little girl. Two pounds, four ounces. We put her in the incubator. Caroline held on just long enough to hear her cry."
Luca closed his eyes. A single tear escaped, tracking down his hardened face.
He had spent nine years mourning an empty grave, believing his future had been stolen by a patch of black ice.
But the ice hadn't stolen his future.
The woman he was supposed to marry on Saturday had.
Luca opened his eyes and looked at Vanessa.
"You took my daughter."
Vanessa shook her head frantically.
"I saved her! My father signed the death certificate to protect her from the rival families who caused the crash! I took her in! I married Mrs. Whitmore's son so we could give her a normal, safe life!"
"You didn't do it to protect her," Mrs. Whitmore interrupted.
Luca turned.
"Then why did she do it?"
The old woman looked at Vanessa with absolute disgust.
"Because Vanessa always wanted to be Caroline," Mrs. Whitmore said quietly. "She wanted the Moretti name. She knew if she raised your daughter, eventually, she could use the child to force her way into your life."
Vanessa let out a horrific, guttural scream.
"Shut up!"
But Mrs. Whitmore wasn't finished.
"She told my son the truth last Sunday. That's why he gave the ring back. That's why he wanted to tell you."
Luca stared at Vanessa, processing the ultimate betrayal.
"Where is she?" Luca whispered. "Where is my daughter?"
Vanessa wiped her face, her panic suddenly vanishing, replaced by a cold, terrifying smile.
"She's safe," Vanessa said.
"Where?" Luca roared, grabbing her shoulders.
"You can't hurt me, Luca," Vanessa whispered, leaning closer to him. "Because if you call the police, or if you touch me, my father's people will move her. You will never see her face."
The entire dining room was paralyzed.
I stood near the doorway, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I had to do something. I couldn't just watch this man lose his child again.
Then, I remembered the pantry.
"Mr. Moretti," I said, my voice echoing in the silent room.
Luca turned his head toward me, his grip still tight on Vanessa's shoulders.
"Anna," he said, his voice strained. "Stay out of this. It's not safe for you."
"Sir, before I cut my hand," I said, stepping forward. "Vanessa dropped a crystal dish. But that wasn't the only thing she dropped."
Vanessa's eyes went wide.
"Anna, shut your mouth!" she screamed.
I reached into the pocket of my black apron with my uninjured hand.
"When I was sweeping up the glass," I said, "I found this hidden under the pantry cabinet."
I pulled out a small, child-sized silver bracelet with a butterfly charm.
Luca let go of Vanessa and walked toward me. He took the tiny bracelet from my hand, his fingers trembling as he brushed the silver charm.
"This belonged to Caroline," Luca choked out. "She wore it on a necklace."
May you like
I looked directly at Vanessa.
"The little girl isn't hidden at a clinic," I said. "She's here. Inside this house."
