Chapter 3 - THE ROSARY
“Tell him who really opened the door for the men who killed his mother.”
The ballroom was entirely empty of guests now, leaving only Luca, Vanessa, Rosa, Carlo, and me.
I tried to back away into the service hall, but Luca’s hand shot out.
“Stay, Emma,” he commanded, never taking his eyes off Rosa.
Rosa was trembling.
Her fingers clutched the silver rosary so tightly her knuckles were white.
“Bambino,” she whispered. “Don’t listen to her. She is poison.”
“Is it true?” Luca asked.
His voice wasn’t angry anymore. It was hollow.
Vanessa crossed her arms, triumphant.
“My father told me the truth before he died. The night your mother was assassinated, the security system wasn’t hacked. It was turned off from the inside. By the staff. By her.”
Rosa shook her head, tears spilling down her wrinkled cheeks.
“I didn’t know they were coming to kill her! I swear it on the Virgin Mary!”
Luca stepped back as if he had been physically struck.
“You let them in?”
“They took my husband, Luca,” Rosa sobbed, the heavy secret finally breaking her. “The rival families. They took my Tomas. They said if I didn’t unlock the kitchen door, they would send me his head in a box. I thought they just wanted to rob the safe. I didn’t know they were going to her bedroom.”
The silence in the room was suffocating.
The woman who had raised him had unknowingly aided in his mother’s murder.
It was an impossible betrayal.
Vanessa smirked. “See? The help is always loyal to themselves. Throw her out, Luca.”
Luca looked at Vanessa, then at Rosa.
He looked like a man drowning.
I needed to give them space. I silently stepped backward into the hallway to set the pie down on a side table.
As I placed the tin down, my foot knocked over a small wastebasket Vanessa had used earlier.
Trash spilled across the carpet.
I knelt to pick it up.
My hand brushed a crumpled piece of paper.
It was a child’s drawing. Crayon.
A drawing of a dark-haired man, a blonde woman (Vanessa), and a little boy.
Above them, in childish scrawl, were the words: Mommy, Daddy, Leo.
Vanessa didn’t have a child. Luca didn’t have a child.
I stared at the drawing.
Then I flipped it over.
On the back was the stationary of St. Jude’s Pediatric Hospital.
A hospital entirely funded by the Bellini family. Vanessa’s family.
Suddenly, I heard a small, muffled thump coming from the East Wing of the house. The wing Vanessa had strictly ordered me not to clean today.
I stood up, the drawing in my hand.
“Mr. Moretti,” I said, my voice shaking.
Vanessa whipped her head toward me.
May you like
When she saw the paper in my hand, all the color drained from her face.
“Give me that!” she hissed, lunging for me.
