Chapter 5 - THE HEAVY WOOL COAT
The smell of old smoke and dried blood immediately filled the small kitchen.
The heavy wool coat lay on the table like a dead body.
I stayed on the floor, my arms wrapped tightly around my mother. Isabella was still huddled behind Luca, her eyes locked on the man who had stolen her child fifteen years ago.
Luca stood up slowly.
He didn't look at the three armed goons. He didn't look at the shattered window.
He only looked at Marcus Bellini.
“You have five seconds to get out of this apartment, Marcus,” Luca said. His voice wasn't a shout. It was a terrifying, quiet promise of violence.
Marcus chuckled, straightening his silk tie. “Brave words from a man whose family empire currently belongs to me. Isabella signed the transfer papers tonight, remember? Your father’s company is mine.”
“Fraudulent papers signed under blackmail don't hold up in court,” Luca replied coldly.
“Oh, they will,” Marcus smiled smoothly. “Because if you try to fight me, I’ll simply have to tell my dear nephew Leo that his real mother didn't want him. That she threw him in the trash like garbage to save her own reputation.”
Isabella let out a shattered whimper. “You monster.”
“Check the coat, Luca,” Marcus ordered, his smile vanishing. “Before my men break every bone in this maid’s body.”
The three goons shifted, tightening their grips on the steel pipes.
Luca’s dark eyes flicked toward me, checking to make sure I was unhurt. Then, with agonizing slowness, he reached toward the soot-stained coat on the table.
He plunged his hand into the right pocket.
Empty.
He reached into the left pocket.
His fingers closed around something hard and metallic.
Luca pulled his hand out.
Sitting in his palm was a heavy, pure gold bracelet. It was thick, ornate, and covered in intricate engravings. But one side of it was badly warped and blackened by intense heat.
Isabella gasped, scrambling to her feet. “That’s Mom’s bracelet! Dad gave it to her on their tenth anniversary. She lost it years before she died.”
Marcus smiled a wicked, triumphant smile.
“She didn't lose it, Isabella,” Marcus said. “Your father used it as collateral.”
Luca stared at the gold bracelet, his jaw tight. “Collateral for what?”
“To buy my silence,” Marcus lied smoothly. “You see, your mother told this little maid a very touching fairy tale. But the truth is, your father started that factory fire. He wanted the insurance money because his business was failing. I caught him pouring the gasoline.”
“You are a liar!” my mother screamed from the floor.
One of the goons raised his pipe, but Luca instantly took a step forward, his massive frame blocking the man. The goon hesitated, intimidated by the sheer lethal presence radiating from Luca Moretti.
“I have proof,” Marcus continued calmly. “Your father begged me not to tell the police. He gave me his wife’s bracelet as a down payment, promising to give me half the company when I demanded it. Today, I finally demanded it.”
Isabella looked at Luca, panic rising in her chest. “Luca, he’s lying. Mom just told us he started the fire!”
“It’s a classic case of he-said, she-said,” Marcus shrugged. “Except I have the signed confession your father gave me along with that bracelet. If you try to void Isabella’s transfer papers, I take the confession to the police. Your father’s legacy is ruined, and the company is seized by the feds.”
Luca looked down at the gold bracelet in his hand. The weight of his father’s reputation, his sister’s stolen child, and the family legacy rested on this one twisted piece of metal.
He looked defeated. For the first time all night, Luca Moretti looked like a man who had lost.
“Fine,” Luca said, his voice hollow. “You win, Marcus. Keep the shares. Just give us Leo.”
“Luca, no!” Isabella cried.
Marcus laughed out loud. “Give you Leo? Why would I do that? The boy hates you. He thinks the Morettis are arrogant snobs. He loves me.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. I couldn't let this happen. I couldn't let this arrogant, evil man destroy them.
I pushed myself up from the floor, my eyes locked on the gold bracelet in Luca’s hand.
“Mr. Moretti,” I said softly.
Everyone looked at me.
“May I see the bracelet, please?”
Luca hesitated, then slowly handed it to me.
The metal was heavy and cold. I turned it over, examining the intricate engravings that had survived the fire.
And then, I saw it.
Carved into the inner rim of the gold, barely visible beneath the soot, was a short inscription. It was written in Polish.
Moja miłość na zawsze. (My love forever).
I looked up at Marcus Bellini.
“You’re lying,” I said, my voice ringing out clearly in the silent kitchen.
Marcus’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me, little girl?”
“I said you’re lying,” I repeated, stepping toward him. I held up the bracelet. “You said Mr. Moretti gave this to his wife for their tenth anniversary.”
“He did,” Marcus spat.
“Mr. Moretti was a proud Italian immigrant,” I said, my heart racing. “His wife was from Naples. Neither of them spoke a single word of Polish.”
Marcus froze.
“But Vanessa does,” I continued, my voice growing stronger. “Vanessa studied Polish in college. She hired a Polish attorney. And she’s the one who had this cheap fake made to frame Mr. Moretti.”
I ran my thumb hard over the gold.
The shiny yellow layer flaked off, revealing dull, cheap brass underneath.
“It’s a forgery,” I declared, tossing the fake bracelet onto the table. “And the grammar in the inscription is wrong. It’s a direct Google translation. A native Polish speaker would never write it that way. Vanessa made a mistake.”
The room went dead silent.
Marcus Bellini’s face twisted into an expression of pure, unadulterated rage. His carefully constructed blackmail plot had just been dismantled by a twenty-five-year-old housemaid.
“Kill them,” Marcus ordered his men. “Kill all of them.”
The three men lunged forward.
But Luca Moretti was already moving.
Before the first man could swing his pipe, Luca grabbed the heavy wool coat from the table and threw it directly over the man’s head, blinding him. Luca delivered a devastating punch to the man’s ribs, dropping him instantly.
The second man swung wildly. Luca ducked, grabbed the man’s arm, and twisted it until a sickening crack echoed through the room. The man screamed and collapsed.
The third man backed away, dropping his weapon and running out the door.
Marcus Bellini stood alone, his face pale with terror as Luca slowly turned to face him.
Luca grabbed Marcus by the throat and slammed him against the kitchen wall.
“Where is the boy, Marcus?” Luca roared, the walls shaking with his fury.
Marcus gagged, clawing at Luca’s massive hand.
“You’re... too late,” Marcus choked out, a bloody smile spreading across his lips. “Leo isn't at my estate.”
“Where is he?!” Isabella screamed, grabbing Marcus’s expensive suit jacket.
Marcus laughed, spitting blood onto the floor.
“I sent him away,” Marcus sneered. “To a boarding school in Europe. Under a fake name. You will never find him, Isabella. You will never be a mother.”
And then, a small, timid voice came from the shattered doorway.
“Yes, she will.”
We all turned around.
Standing in the doorway, shivering in the cold night air, was a fifteen-year-old boy.
May you like
He had dark, curly hair and Isabella’s soft, expressive eyes.
And clutched tightly in his trembling hands was a heavy wooden rosary.
