Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Knew Too Much|
"Vanessa had this."
Luca stopped moving.
"What?"
I held the black rosary between us.
"Three nights ago. She was standing outside your study. She had it wrapped around her wrist."
His expression changed.
"Are you certain?"
"I remember thinking it was strange."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
I stared at him.
"Because I didn't know it belonged to your grandfather. And because you've spent the last three months telling me not to ask questions about Vanessa."
He looked away.
That was the thing about betrayal.
It didn't happen only in bedrooms or behind closed doors.
Sometimes it happened slowly, through a hundred small moments when a husband taught his wife that her observations no longer mattered.
Luca held out his hand.
"Give it to me."
I pulled it back.
"No."
"Emma, this isn't a game."
"Neither is taking my daughter to Switzerland."
His jaw tightened.
"That trip was supposed to protect her."
"From what?"
He glanced toward Isabella.
She was still sleeping.
"Not here."
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I placed the rosary on the dresser and carefully lifted Isabella into my arms.
She stirred.
"Mommy?"
"I'm here, baby."
Her sleepy face pressed against my shoulder.
"Is it morning?"
"No, sweetheart. Go back to sleep."
I carried her toward the door.
Luca stepped aside.
"Where are you going?"
"To your grandmother."
"Emma."
I stopped.
"You can tell me the truth, Luca. Or you can stand in this hallway while I walk away."
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he whispered, "Someone threatened Isabella."
The words froze me.
"What?"
"Six weeks ago, I received a photograph of her outside her school."
My arms tightened around my daughter.
Luca continued.
"There was a message. They knew her schedule. They knew which entrance she used. They knew when you took her to dance class."
I felt sick.
"And you didn't tell me?"
"I didn't want to frighten you."
I stared at him.
"You didn't want to frighten me?"
"Emma—"
"You let me take her to dance class without knowing someone was watching us?"
He closed his eyes.
"I put additional security around you."
"Without telling me why."
"Yes."
I shook my head.
"You should have trusted me."
"I was trying to keep you safe."
"No, Luca. You were trying to control what I knew."
He looked wounded.
I didn't care.
Not yet.
"Where does Vanessa fit into this?"
His expression hardened.
"She has contacts in Geneva. She offered a private property where Isabella could stay while I dealt with the threat."
I stared at him.
"With Vanessa?"
He hesitated.
And that was enough.
"Oh, my God."
"Emma, listen—"
"You were sending our daughter to live with your mistress?"
"It wasn't supposed to be permanent."
"Did Vanessa tell you that?"
Luca didn't answer.
I looked at the rosary.
"She knew about the threats."
"Yes."
"She knew about the trip."
"Yes."
"And somehow she had your grandfather's missing rosary."
Luca looked toward the dresser.
His silence told me he was beginning to ask himself the same questions.
I carried Isabella downstairs.
Francesca was waiting in the family sitting room.
When she saw the child in my arms, she held out her hands.
"Bring her here, my girl."
I gently settled Isabella on the couch beside her great-grandmother.
Francesca wrapped a blanket around her.
Luca entered moments later.
The black rosary hung from his hand.
Francesca saw it.
Her expression changed completely.
"Where did you find that?"
"On Isabella's pillow."
The old woman's hand flew to her chest.
"Madonna mia."
I showed her the note.
She read it once.
Then again.
Something like recognition flashed across her face.
Luca noticed.
"Nonna?"
Francesca looked toward the doorway.
"Close it."
Luca obeyed.
She waited until the door clicked shut.
Then she spoke.
"That rosary belonged to your grandfather before he married me."
Luca nodded.
"I know."
"No," she whispered. "You don't."
Her fingers trembled.
"Vittorio gave it to a woman named Alessandra Bellini."
I felt my stomach tighten.
Bellini.
Vanessa's surname.
Luca stared at her.
"Who was Alessandra?"
Francesca looked toward Isabella.
Then lowered her voice.
"The woman your grandfather was supposed to marry."
The room became still.
I had known Francesca for seven years.
I'd listened to her stories about Italy, immigration, and the early years of the Moretti family.
She had never mentioned another woman.
"Why didn't he marry her?" Luca asked.
Francesca looked down.
"Because she betrayed him."
Luca frowned.
"How?"
"She gave his enemies the location of a safe house. Three people died."
I covered my mouth.
Francesca continued.
"Vittorio broke the engagement and married me two years later. But Alessandra never forgave him."
"Was she related to Vanessa?"
Francesca nodded.
"Her grandmother."
A long silence followed.
Then Luca reached for his phone.
He called his head of security.
"Daniel, find Vanessa. Don't let her leave the property."
He listened.
His expression hardened.
"What do you mean she's gone?"
My blood ran cold.
Vanessa had disappeared.
Francesca slowly rose from the couch.
"I warned you about that woman, Leonardo."
Luca lowered the phone.
"She left through the west gate ten minutes ago."
Francesca closed her eyes.
Then whispered something that frightened me more than the threatening note.
"Then she's already taken what she came for."
I looked at her.
"What do you mean?"
She turned toward me.
"Emma, when you were cleaning my bedroom last winter, do you remember the little wooden box beneath my dresser?"
I nodded.
The dark walnut box.
Always locked.
Always covered with a linen cloth.
Francesca's voice trembled.
"Inside was the only thing that could prove what truly happened to Vittorio's first wife."
Luca frowned.
"His first wife?"
I stared at her.
May you like
Francesca reached for my hand.
And whispered, "Your grandfather wasn't a widower when he married me, Luca. He was a man hiding a marriage nobody was supposed to discover."
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