Chapter 2 - THE SECRET OF THE SILVER POCKET WATCH
“What happened to Dad’s company?” Luca asked.
His voice was dangerously quiet.
It was the kind of quiet that made the forty wealthy dinner guests stop breathing.
Vanessa’s face had lost every drop of color. She stepped back, her expensive heels scraping against the marble floor.
“Luca, please,” Vanessa whispered, her voice trembling. “It was just a misunderstanding.”
“Do not lie to me,” Luca said, his eyes burning with a dark, terrifying intensity. “What did you tell my sister?”
Isabella was shaking uncontrollably. She looked at her older brother, her eyes overflowing with tears.
“She told me about the pension fund, Luca,” Isabella choked out.
Luca froze. “What pension fund?”
“The factory workers’ fund,” Isabella sobbed, gripping the edge of the dining table. “Vanessa said Dad drained it the year before he died. She said he stole millions from his own employees to cover gambling debts.”
“That is a lie,” Luca snarled, his fists clenching at his sides. “Dad never gambled. He loved those workers. He built that factory with his bare hands.”
Vanessa swallowed hard, looking desperately at the Polish attorney, Aleksander Nowak.
But Aleksander was already packing his leather briefcase, refusing to meet her gaze.
“It’s not a lie, Luca,” Vanessa said, trying to regain her composure. “My father has the bank records. If Isabella didn’t sign her shares over to my family, my father was going to release the documents to the press. Your family’s name would be destroyed. Your father would be remembered as a thief.”
My heart pounded against my ribs.
My grandmother had worked in that factory. She had always told me that the elder Mr. Moretti was a saint. A man who paid for her medical treatments when my grandfather passed away.
He was not a thief.
I was still wearing Luca’s warm, tailored suit jacket over my soaked maid’s uniform. I pulled it tighter around myself, feeling a sudden surge of protective anger for this family.
“Mrs. Bellini,” I said, my voice cutting through the heavy silence.
Everyone turned to look at me.
Vanessa glared, her eyes full of venom. “I told you to shut up, you ignorant girl.”
“I may be a maid,” I said, standing a little taller, “but I know my grandmother’s pension was paid in full every single month until she died. Mr. Moretti never missed a payment.”
Luca looked at me, a profound shock washing over his handsome features.
“Your grandmother worked for my father?” Luca asked softly.
“Yes, sir,” I replied, my voice shaking but resolute. “For twenty years.”
Vanessa let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Oh, how touching. The maid is defending the dead criminal. Luca, are you going to listen to the help, or are you going to listen to your fiancée?”
Luca slowly turned away from me and looked at the woman he was supposed to marry.
He didn't yell. He didn't scream.
He simply reached into his pocket and pulled out the stunning three-carat diamond engagement ring he had given her six months ago. She had taken it off to wash her hands before dinner and left it on the entryway table. Luca had picked it up.
Now, he held it between his tattooed fingers.
“The wedding is off,” Luca said.
Vanessa gasped, pressing her hands to her mouth. “Luca, you can’t—”
“Get out of my house,” Luca commanded, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. “Before I have my security drag you out by your hair.”
Vanessa burst into tears. She grabbed her designer clutch, looking around at the forty guests who were staring at her in absolute disgust.
She turned to me, her eyes filled with pure hatred. “You will pay for this, Natalie. I promise you.”
She turned and ran out of the mansion, the heavy oak doors slamming shut behind her.
The guests hurriedly excused themselves. Within ten minutes, the grand dining room was completely empty, save for Luca, Isabella, the attorney Aleksander, and me.
Isabella collapsed into a chair, burying her face in her hands.
Aleksander snapped his briefcase shut. “Mr. Moretti, I apologize for my involvement. Vanessa’s father, Marcus Bellini, is a very dangerous man. He forced me to draft those documents.”
“You’re a coward, Aleksander,” Luca spat.
“I am a survivor,” the attorney replied quietly. He walked toward the door, but then he stopped. He reached into his coat pocket.
“Before your father died, he gave me something to hold for you,” Aleksander said. “He told me to give it to you only when the Bellini family finally made their move.”
He placed a heavy, tarnished silver pocket watch on the dining table.
“Goodbye, Mr. Moretti.”
Aleksander walked out, leaving us alone in the massive room.
Luca stared at the silver watch. It had belonged to his great-grandfather.
He slowly reached out and picked it up. His large, tattooed fingers traced the intricate engravings on the front.
“Dad thought he lost this,” Isabella whispered, wiping her eyes.
Luca pressed the latch. The watch popped open.
I leaned forward, my breath catching in my throat.
The watch wasn't ticking. The hands were frozen permanently at exactly 3:15.
But that wasn't what made Luca’s face turn completely white.
Inside the cover of the watch, a single word had been deeply carved into the silver.
It was a name.
May you like
Luca looked up at me, his dark eyes wide with utter confusion.
“Natalie,” Luca whispered, his voice trembling. “Why is your mother’s name engraved inside my father’s watch?”
