Chapter 4
The silver watch swung back and forth like a pendulum.
I recognized the deep scratch on the back casing. Thomas had done that fixing the kitchen sink the year Sophie was born. I had searched the hospital in tears for that watch. The nurses claimed he wasn't wearing one.
“Where did you get that?” I demanded, my voice shaking with a mixture of rage and grief.
Arthur’s smile didn’t reach his cold eyes. “Thomas gave it to me. Along with a promise.”
Sophie grabbed her new husband’s arm. “Uncle Arthur, what are you talking about?”
Arthur looked at my daughter with mock pity. “Your father knew Margaret couldn't provide for you. He knew she was drowning in debt. The day before his heart gave out, Thomas came to me. He gave me this watch as collateral. He asked me to take the life insurance money and invest it, to protect you from your mother’s financial ruin.”
I felt like I had been punched in the chest.
“That’s a lie!” I screamed, stepping forward. “Thomas didn't have life insurance! The policy lapsed two months before he died because we couldn't afford the premiums!”
“Did it?” Arthur asked smoothly. He reached into his coat and pulled out a faded, folded piece of paper. “Or did I pay the premium to keep it active? And collect the fifty thousand dollars as the named executor?”
The room started to spin.
For six years, I had scrubbed floors. I had worked double shifts. I had skipped meals so Sophie could have new shoes for school. I had lived in a constant state of exhausting, bone-crushing panic to pay off Thomas’s hospital bills.
And Arthur had fifty thousand dollars of Thomas's money all along.
“You kept it?” Sophie whispered, her voice filled with horror. “Mom sold her wedding ring to pay for my college books. And you kept Dad’s money?”
“I protected it!” Arthur barked, his face flushing. “I was saving it for your wedding day! To give you the life your father wanted, far away from a mother who scrubs toilets for a living!”
“I scrub toilets so she didn't have to!” I fired back, my chest heaving. I pointed at the foreclosure notice still crumpled in his hand. “I took that job because nobody else would hire a forty-six-year-old widow with no degree! I swallowed my pride every single day for her!”
Little Lily, David’s six-year-old daughter, suddenly let go of her father’s hand. She ran across the dance floor, her little dress swishing, and threw her arms around my legs.
“Don't yell at Grandma Maggie,” Lily cried, burying her face in my black apron.
I looked down at the little girl. Grandma Maggie. I had spent the last year reading bedtime stories to Lily over FaceTime, earning her trust, loving her as my own blood.
I gently placed my trembling hand on her small head.
Sophie was crying openly now. She looked at Arthur, then at the watch, and finally, at me. The betrayal in her eyes wasn't directed at me anymore. It was directed at her uncle.
“Give me the watch, Arthur,” Sophie demanded, holding out her hand.
Arthur scoffed. “Sophie, be reasonable—”
“Give me my father’s watch!” she screamed, her voice tearing through the hall.
Before Arthur could react, the heavy oak doors at the back of the hall slammed open with a deafening crash.
The cold night wind swept into the room, fluttering the tablecloths.
Standing in the doorway, wearing a black overcoat that swallowed the light, was Luca Moretti.
Flanking him was Daniel, and to my absolute shock, Teresa Moretti, leaning on a silver-handled cane.
Luca’s dark eyes swept the room. They locked onto the foreclosure notice in Arthur’s hand. Then, they locked onto the silver watch.
Luca didn't walk. He stalked. The crowd parted instantly, sensing the dangerous, electric aura radiating from the mafia boss.
He stopped a few feet from Arthur.
“That’s a fascinating story about the life insurance,” Luca said, his voice dangerously soft. “Except for one detail.”
Arthur puffed out his chest, trying to look intimidating. “This is a private family matter. Who the hell are you?”
Luca ignored the question. He reached into his coat and produced a thick, bound financial ledger.
“You see,” Luca continued quietly, “my estate recently purchased a portfolio of debt from a local bank. My former fiancée, Vanessa, authorized the purchase of Margaret’s mortgage without my knowledge.”
Luca tossed the heavy ledger onto a nearby guest table.
“But when I reviewed the bank's logs on the drive over here,” Luca said, his eyes narrowing into lethal slits, “I found out who sold Margaret’s mortgage to the bank in the first place.”
May you like
Luca pointed a gloved finger at Arthur.
“It was you.”
