Chapter 2 - A STRANGER WITH A DANGEROUS PIECE OF PAPER
“Twenty-three years ago?” Luca’s voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through the dining room like glass.
He didn’t look at his wealthy guests. He didn’t look at Vanessa, who was now clutching her red silk gown so tightly her knuckles were white.
He stared only at the man in the charcoal suit.
“Who are you?” Luca demanded, stepping away from the head of the table.
The stranger calmly buttoned his suit jacket. “My name is Julian Vance. I am a probate attorney. And for the last five years of your father’s life, I was his only private counsel.”
Michael, Luca’s younger brother, let out a harsh laugh. “That’s a lie. Our family has used the Rossi firm for three generations.”
“Your family used the Rossi firm for its… less conventional business,” Julian corrected, his tone perfectly even. “Your father used me for the one thing he actually cared about. The restaurant.”
I stood frozen near the serving cart.
My chest felt tight. My mother had never mentioned a Julian Vance. She had never spoken about Christmas Eve twenty-three years ago. Whenever I asked why Mr. Moretti had been so generous to us, she would just wipe her hands on her apron and say, “Good men do good things, Emily. Leave it at that.”
But Julian Vance was looking right at me.
“Your mother’s name is Sarah Carter, isn’t it?” he asked.
I swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“And she was working the closing shift on December 24th, 1999?”
“I… I don’t know. I was only two years old.”
Vanessa slammed her wine glass onto the table. The crystal stem shattered, sending dark red liquid spilling across the white tablecloth.
“This is absurd!” she shouted, her carefully crafted elegance completely gone. “Luca, you’re letting a con artist and a cleaning girl ruin our engagement dinner! Throw them both out!”
Luca didn’t even glance at her.
“Vanessa,” he said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “If you speak again before I tell you to, the engagement is off.”
The entire room gasped.
Vanessa’s mouth fell open, but she didn’t make a sound.
Luca turned back to the attorney. “You said my father didn’t leave the restaurant to me. And you said the sale Vanessa arranged three weeks ago went through. Both of those things cannot be true.”
“Actually, Mr. Moretti, they can.” Julian reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded piece of heavy parchment. “Because the person who sold the property wasn’t your father. And it wasn’t you.”
He walked toward the head of the table and placed the document on the ruined tablecloth, right next to the spilled wine.
“Your father transferred the deed to a holding company fifteen years ago,” Julian explained. “He named a proxy to manage it. Someone he trusted implicitly. Someone who knew exactly what happened on that Christmas Eve, and why the property could never fall into the hands of the Bellini family.”
He looked directly at Vanessa.
Vanessa stepped back, her face suddenly pale.
“But three weeks ago,” Julian continued, “that proxy was manipulated. They were told the restaurant was bankrupt. They were told the only way to save the employees’ pensions was to sign the transfer papers. So, they signed.”
I felt a cold sweat break out across my neck.
My mother had been crying three weeks ago. I remembered coming home to our small apartment and finding her sitting at the kitchen table, staring at a stack of legal documents. When I asked her what was wrong, she had quickly hidden them in a drawer.
“Just old memories, Emmy,” she had said.
Luca stared at the paper on the table. “Who was the proxy?”
“Read the signature on the transfer deed,” Julian said.
Luca picked up the parchment. His eyes scanned the bottom of the page.
I watched his broad shoulders tense beneath his suit jacket. I watched his jaw lock.
When he finally looked up, his dark eyes found mine.
“Emily,” Luca said, his voice thick with an emotion I couldn’t recognize.
“Yes, sir?” my voice trembled.
He turned the document around so I could see it.
Right there, on the line marked Authorized Seller, was a signature I had seen on every permission slip, every birthday card, and every grocery list of my entire life.
“Why is your mother’s name on the deed to my family’s restaurant?” Luca asked.
I couldn’t breathe. “I… I don’t know.”
“She sold it, Luca!” Vanessa suddenly screamed, pointing a manicured finger at me. “Don’t you see? The maid’s mother stole it from you! She’s the thief!”
“No!” I stepped forward, tears finally spilling hot down my cheeks. “My mother would never steal from Mr. Moretti! She loved him!”
“Then why did she sell it to Carlo?” Vanessa demanded.
But Carlo Vitale, the Italian businessman who had been silent for the last five minutes, slowly shook his head.
“I didn’t buy it from Sarah Carter,” Carlo said quietly.
Luca whipped around to face him. “What are you talking about? You just said the transaction was complete.”
“It is,” Carlo replied, looking genuinely uncomfortable. “But I didn’t purchase the deed. I only purchased the land beneath it. The building itself was sold to someone else entirely.”
Julian Vance nodded slowly. “That is the real tragedy tonight, Mr. Moretti. The restaurant is scheduled for demolition at 6:00 AM tomorrow.”
My heart stopped.
Luca grabbed the attorney by the lapels of his suit. “Who bought the building? Give me a name!”
Julian didn’t flinch. He just reached into his pocket again and pulled out a small, tarnished silver pocket watch.
He held it up by its broken chain.
“The man who bought it,” Julian said softly, “is the man who dropped this watch in the restaurant kitchen twenty-three years ago.”
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Michael gasped. He stumbled backward, knocking his chair to the floor.
“That’s impossible,” Michael whispered, staring at the silver watch. “He died in prison.”
