Chapter 3 - THE PHOTOGRAPH INSIDE THE SILVER WATCH
Vanessa’s face drained of all color.
She stared at the tarnished silver pocket watch in George’s weathered hand as if it were a loaded gun.
“That’s ridiculous,” Vanessa stammered, backing away toward the restaurant doors. “Frank was a paranoid old man at the end. Whatever is in there is nonsense.”
Luca didn't listen to her.
He bent down, scooped up his mother’s stolen emerald necklace, and handed it gently to Teresa.
Then he walked over to George.
“My father gave you his watch?” Luca asked.
George nodded. “The night before his heart gave out. He knocked on my back door at 2:00 AM. He was terrified, Luca. He said the Bellini family wasn't just trying to merge businesses—they were trying to hollow out the Moretti estate from the inside.”
“My family is legitimate!” Vanessa shrieked.
Luca took the heavy silver watch from George.
He pressed the small latch on the side.
The silver cover popped open with a quiet click.
Inside, covering the clock face, was a folded piece of faded parchment paper and a small, square photograph.
Luca unfolded the photograph first.
I stood close enough to see it. It was a surveillance-style photo, timestamped five years ago.
It showed Vanessa’s uncle, Carlo Bellini, standing in a dark alley.
And handing him a thick manila envelope was a man I recognized instantly.
Marco. Luca’s head of security.
Luca stopped breathing. He stared at the photograph, his thumb tracing the image of his most trusted guard committing treason.
“Marco,” Luca whispered, the betrayal echoing in his voice.
He looked up, scanning the room.
Marco was supposed to be stationed at the front door. But the entrance was empty.
“He’s gone,” George said quietly. “I saw him slip out the back the moment I pulled out the watch.”
Luca’s jaw clenched tight. The tattoos on his neck seemed to shift as his muscles tensed.
“What’s on the paper, sweetheart?” Teresa asked, her voice trembling as she clutched George’s arm for support.
Luca unfolded the small piece of parchment.
His eyes scanned the faded ink. It was his father’s handwriting.
“‘The Bellinis aren't wealthy,’” Luca read aloud, his voice carrying across the silent dining room. “‘They are bankrupt. They are using the merger to absorb our liquid assets to pay off the Cartel. Do not trust Carlo. Do not trust Vanessa.’”
Luca looked up, his dark eyes locking onto his former fiancée.
“You didn't want to marry me, Vanessa,” Luca said, the pieces finally falling into place. “You needed me to save your family from a bullet.”
Vanessa was backed against the heavy mahogany doors, her chest heaving.
“You think you’re so smart, Luca?” she spat, dropping the elegant facade entirely. “My uncle will burn this restaurant to the ground by morning. You have no security. Marco took all your men with him.”
“Get out,” Luca said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
“You’re dead, Moretti.”
Vanessa pushed through the doors and ran out into the rainy Chicago night.
The heavy doors swung shut, sealing the thirty guests inside a room suffocating with tension.
Teresa began to cry, leaning heavily against George.
“Frank knew,” Teresa sobbed. “My husband knew they were coming for us, and he died trying to protect us.”
“Shh, it’s okay, Teresa,” George murmured, wrapping his arm around her.
Luca turned to the remaining guests—mostly loyal family captains and business partners.
“The dinner is over,” Luca announced. “Go home. Lock your doors. The Bellini family is now an enemy of this house.”
The guests didn't need to be told twice. Within five minutes, the restaurant was completely empty, save for Luca, Teresa, George, and me.
I began quietly clearing the tables, my heart hammering against my ribs. I was just a maid. I shouldn't be hearing any of this.
“Hannah,” Luca said.
I froze, a stack of china plates in my hands. “Yes, Mr. Moretti?”
“Leave the dishes. I need you to take my mother and George to the safe house in the North Suburbs. Tonight.”
“No,” Teresa protested immediately. “I’m not leaving you, Luca.”
“Mom, Marco knows the layout of every property we own,” Luca pleaded, walking over to her. “Except the cabin. He doesn't know about it. You’ll be safe there with George and Hannah.”
Teresa reached into her purse.
She pulled out her gold wedding ring. The one she had taken off earlier to appease Vanessa.
She slowly slid it back onto her left ring finger.
“Your father never ran from a fight,” Teresa said firmly. “And neither will I.”
Before Luca could argue, the heavy kitchen doors burst open.
One of the young prep cooks stumbled into the dining room, his white apron covered in soot and blood.
“Boss!” the boy gasped, collapsing to his knees.
Luca rushed forward, catching the boy before he hit the floor.
“What happened?” Luca demanded.
The boy coughed violently.
“Marco,” the boy wheezed. “He didn't just run away. He went down to the basement office.”
Luca’s face went pale. “The safe?”
“He blew it,” the boy cried. “He took the cash. But… he left something on your desk.”
The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, child’s drawing.
Drawn in bright red crayon was a picture of a little boy holding hands with a man in a black suit.
At the top, written in messy, childlike letters, were the words: To Daddy.
Luca stared at the drawing.
His entire body went rigid.
“Where did he get this?” Luca whispered, his voice cracking.
Teresa covered her mouth. “Luca… is that…?”
Luca flipped the drawing over.
May you like
Written on the back in thick black marker was a single sentence.
If you want to see Leo again, sign the merger.
