Chapter 3 - THE COAT
The engagement dinner was still happening downstairs.
I could hear the faint sound of the string quartet playing a Mozart piece. Vanessa was down there, drinking expensive wine, acting like the perfect future wife.
She was a monster.
“I’m going to kill him,” Luca stated, racking the slide of the gun. “I’m going to walk to Marcus’s house, and I’m going to put a bullet in his skull.”
“No!” I stepped forward, grabbing his wrist.
He froze, looking down at my hand. Nobody touched Luca Moretti. Certainly not a maid.
“If you kill him now,” I pleaded, my heart hammering against my ribs, “you’ll never find out where they’re keeping your nephew. Vanessa will hide him forever.”
Luca’s jaw clenched. He knew I was right.
He lowered the weapon. “Then we search Vanessa’s suite. Now. While she’s occupied with the guests.”
He didn’t ask me to come. He expected it.
We moved quickly up the private servant’s staircase to the third floor. Vanessa’s suite was a sprawling room of white silk and mirrored furniture.
“Look for receipts,” Luca ordered, tearing through her desk. “Bank statements, addresses. Anything that points to a secondary location.”
I went to her massive walk-in closet.
It smelled of heavy perfume and expensive leather. I searched the pockets of her designer bags, finding nothing but lipstick and mints.
Then, I saw it.
A heavy, dark red wool coat pushed to the very back of the rack.
I remembered that coat. Vanessa had worn it two days ago when she claimed she was going to a spa retreat in the mountains.
I reached into the deep left pocket. My fingers brushed against thick, folded paper.
I pulled it out.
It was a first-class airline ticket.
“Mr. Moretti,” I called out quietly.
Luca was instantly beside me. He took the ticket.
“A flight to Zurich,” he read, his eyes narrowing. “For tomorrow night. The night of our wedding.”
The reversal hit me like a physical blow. Vanessa wasn’t planning to stay married. She was planning to force him to sign the trust, marry him to legitimize the claim, and flee the country with his money before the ink was dry.
But it wasn’t just a ticket.
Stuck inside the boarding pass flap was a thick, manila medical folder.
I pulled it out.
The name on the tab made my blood turn to ice.
Eleanor Reed.
My mother.
May you like
Luca looked at the file, then at my horrified face.
“Emma,” he asked softly. “Why does Vanessa have your mother’s medical records?”
