Chapter 3 - A Flash of Silver in the Dark
The silver object in Vanessa’s hand wasn't a gun. It was a brushed-steel lighter.
With a flick of her thumb, a blue flame erupted. She lunged not for Luca, but for the yellowed envelope in his hands.
Luca stepped back, his reflexes honed by years of boardroom warfare and street survival. He grabbed Vanessa’s wrist, twisting it just enough to send the lighter clattering to the hardwood floor.
"Get out," Luca’s voice was a low, terrifying rumble.
Vanessa’s mask of elegance shattered into something feral. "You think that letter tells the truth, Luca? She was crazy at the end. You know she was!"
"Security," Luca barked. Three men in dark suits materialized. "Escort Miss Whitmore off the property. If she returns, call the police."
As they dragged a screaming Vanessa away, the engagement party dissolved into panicked whispers. Luca ignored them all. He dropped to his knees right there on the shattered glass, pulling Lily into his chest.
"I'm sorry, Daddy," Lily sobbed into his tuxedo jacket.
"Never apologize for being brave, little bird," Luca whispered, kissing the top of her head. He looked up at Ruth, who was cradling her bruised cheek. "Ruth. My office. Now."
The mahogany doors of Luca’s study clicked shut, sealing them off from the chaos. Luca walked to his desk, his hands trembling as he unfolded the brittle paper Isabella had sealed four years ago.
Inside the envelope was a single sheet of paper and an old, faded photograph.
Luca stared at the picture, the breath leaving his lungs.
"Answer me, Ruth," Luca demanded, his voice cracking. "Did you know about this?"
Ruth approached the desk. She looked at the photograph. It showed two teenage girls standing on a dock at a summer camp. One was Isabella, radiant and smiling.
The other girl, holding Isabella’s hand and wearing a matching woven bracelet, was Vanessa.
"I only found out the day she died," Ruth confessed, tears spilling over her wrinkled cheeks. "Isabella wasn't an only child, Mr. Moretti. Vanessa is her estranged younger sister."
Luca gripped the edge of the desk. The woman he had almost married was his dead wife's secret sister?
"Why wouldn't she tell me?" Luca pleaded.
"Because," Ruth said, her voice dropping to a terrified whisper. "Isabella didn't run away from her family because they were poor. She ran because of what Vanessa did to their father."
Luca looked down at the letter in his hands.
Luca, the letter read. If you are reading this, she found us. And she didn't come for my money.
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the study burst open. It was Marco, the head of security, looking pale.
"Mr. Moretti," Marco gasped. "Vanessa didn't leave in her car. She left in yours. And sir... she took Lily’s nanny with her."
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Luca’s blood ran cold. The nanny hadn't been seen all evening.
He flipped the photograph over. Scrawled on the back in red ink was a message that wasn't there before: I'm taking back what belongs to me.
