Chapter 2 - THE SILVER LOCKET IN THE GARDEN
Luca stared at Frank.
“What photograph?”
Vanessa gripped the edge of the dining table, her knuckles turning white.
“Luca, please. This old man is confused. He’s making up stories to keep his job.”
But Frank didn't look at Vanessa. He slowly reached into his other pocket and pulled out a delicate, tarnished silver chain. Hanging from it was a small locket, dented on one side.
He placed it next to the brass garden key.
Teresa gasped.
She reached out with trembling fingers, tracing the dented silver.
“This was my grandmother’s,” Teresa whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I gave this to my little girl the day she turned four. The day before she disappeared.”
Luca’s chest heaved. He picked up the locket.
He pressed the small latch. It clicked open.
Inside was a faded picture of a man holding a baby. Luca’s father.
“Where did you get this, Frank?” Luca asked, his voice dangerously low.
“The woman dropped it,” Frank said quietly. “Yesterday. When Miss Vanessa told the security guards to escort her off the property.”
I felt a cold chill run down my spine.
I remembered yesterday afternoon. I had been carrying laundry upstairs when I saw two guards pushing a woman in a beige coat out the front gates. She had been crying, holding a little girl by the hand.
Vanessa had told the staff she was a scam artist.
Luca turned slowly toward his fiancée.
“You had my sister thrown out?”
“I didn't know who she was!” Vanessa’s voice pitched higher. “People come here all the time claiming to be related to your family for money! I was protecting you, Luca!”
“You brought a man to the garden house three weeks ago,” Luca said, taking a step toward her. “Frank saw you. My mother’s things were supposed to be safe. What were you looking for?”
Vanessa swallowed hard. “Nothing. We were just inspecting the foundation.”
“Answer me, Vanessa.”
“I am answering you! There is no sister! It’s a lie!”
Suddenly, a heavy thud echoed from the hallway.
The dining room fell dead silent.
One of the security guards, Marcus, stepped into the doorway. He looked nervous.
“Mr. Moretti,” Marcus interrupted, glancing at Vanessa before looking back at Luca. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But there’s a problem.”
“Not now, Marcus,” Luca snapped.
“Sir, you need to see this.”
Luca hesitated. He looked at his mother, who was clinging to Frank’s arm, then back at the guard.
He followed Marcus into the grand foyer. I instinctively stepped closer, peering through the archway. Vanessa trailed behind, her face pale.
In the center of the marble floor sat a small, battered pink suitcase.
Beside it stood a little girl.
She couldn’t have been more than six years old. She wore a faded yellow dress and held a tightly clutched drawing against her chest.
Luca froze.
The little girl looked up, her large brown eyes scanning the towering ceiling. Then, she looked at Luca.
She had his father’s eyes.
“Who are you?” Luca whispered, kneeling down to her level.
The little girl stepped back nervously.
“My mommy said I have to wait here,” she said, her voice small and trembling.
“Where is your mommy?”
“She told me to give this to the man in the big house.”
She slowly extended the crumpled drawing.
Luca took it. His hands shook as he unfolded the paper.
I could see it from where I stood. It wasn't a drawing.
It was a birth certificate.
The name printed at the top read: Elena Moretti.
But it was the note scrawled in red ink on the back that made Luca stop breathing.
“What does it say, Luca?” Teresa cried from the doorway, leaning heavily on Frank.
Luca looked up, his eyes locking onto Vanessa with a terrifying coldness.
May you like
He read the words aloud:
“If anything happens to me tonight, ask Vanessa what she buried beneath the garden swing.”
