Chapter 6 - The Fiancée Who Wanted a Funeral Instead of a Wedding |
By morning, Vanessa Bellini had turned herself into the victim.
Her photograph appeared on social media beneath a headline accusing the Moretti family of humiliating an innocent woman at her own engagement dinner.
She claimed I had misunderstood an Italian conversation.
She claimed Matteo Ricci had been confused.
She claimed Luca was emotionally unstable after years of grieving his late wife.
And she claimed the allegation involving Isabella's allergy was an unfortunate kitchen mistake.
I watched the interview on my phone while standing in the Moretti breakfast room.
Vanessa wore a cream-colored suit.
Her hair was perfectly styled.
Her eyes appeared swollen from carefully applied makeup.
"I loved that little girl," she told the interviewer.
"I would never hurt her."
My stomach turned.
Because I remembered Isabella's voice.
Vanessa said if I got sick again, Daddy wouldn't want me living here anymore.
I switched off the screen.
Luca entered carrying a tray of breakfast.
I blinked.
"Mr. Moretti?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"Emily."
"Did you just carry food out of the kitchen?"
"Apparently."
"Voluntarily?"
He almost smiled.
"The staff shouldn't be responsible for every meal I eat."
I glanced at the tray.
Toast.
Scrambled eggs.
Fresh fruit.
And a small plate of pancakes prepared separately for Isabella under the household's allergy precautions.
Luca saw where I was looking.
"The kitchen is following the new protocols."
I nodded.
After the dinner, he'd hired an independent food-safety consultant to review the mansion's allergy procedures.
The consultant had recommended separate utensils, strict ingredient verification, written staff training, and a documented emergency plan.
Luca had approved every recommendation.
He was taking the threat seriously.
But he wasn't pretending he could solve everything through anger.
"Have you seen Vanessa's interview?" I asked.
"Yes."
"She says I lied."
Luca placed the tray down.
"Her statement doesn't change the evidence."
I looked at him.
"People are going to believe her."
"Some will."
He met my eyes.
"But that doesn't make them right."
I swallowed.
For the first time, I understood why people with money sometimes seemed fearless.
They had resources.
Lawyers.
Security.
Public-relations teams.
I had a mother with an overdue electricity bill.
And a silver key.
Luca seemed to read my thoughts.
"Emily, I want to discuss your job."
My heart sank.
"Am I being fired?"
He looked genuinely startled.
"No."
I exhaled.
He continued.
"You've been placed in a dangerous position through no fault of your own."
I watched him carefully.
"I want to offer paid leave while investigators review the situation."
"Paid?"
"Yes."
I shook my head.
"That seems unfair to the other staff."
"Then I'll make sure anyone affected by the investigation receives appropriate support."
He paused.
"And whether you return afterward is your decision."
I looked down.
I didn't know what to say.
Arthur Bellini's daughter had threatened my livelihood because I refused to serve cake.
Now Luca was offering to protect it because I'd refused.
"Thank you," I whispered.
He nodded.
"You're welcome."
Then Isabella appeared in the doorway.
"Daddy?"
Luca turned.
"Yes, princess?"
She looked at the breakfast tray.
"Did you make pancakes?"
He smiled.
"The chef made them."
Isabella studied him.
"Good."
I laughed.
Luca looked offended.
"Why good?"
She shrugged.
"Because last time you cooked, the eggs were black."
I covered my mouth.
He sighed dramatically.
"Everyone's a critic."
And for one brief moment, the mansion felt like a home again.
Meanwhile, Vanessa sat in a private office beside her father.
The television interview was playing silently on a wall-mounted screen.
Vittorio Bellini watched her reflection in the glass.
"You shouldn't have spoken to the press."
She crossed her arms.
"Someone had to defend me."
"You made statements that investigators can test."
She looked away.
"They can't prove anything."
Vittorio set down his coffee.
"Do not mistake uncertainty for innocence."
Vanessa stared at him.
"I did what you told me."
His expression hardened.
"Lower your voice."
She leaned forward.
"You said the engagement documents would be signed before dinner."
"They should have been."
"You said Luca wouldn't question them."
"He wasn't supposed to."
Vanessa stood.
"Then why am I the one being blamed?"
Vittorio rose slowly.
"Because you made yourself memorable."
Her face flushed.
"I was trying to protect everything we've built."
"No."
He approached her.
"You were trying to become Mrs. Moretti before anyone discovered what your future husband might inherit."
Vanessa looked toward the window.
"And now?"
"Now we recover the Conti documents."
She turned sharply.
"The maid's necklace?"
Vittorio nodded.
"I told you the key mattered."
Vanessa swallowed.
"She won't give it to me."
"Then stop trying to frighten her."
Vanessa stared.
"What?"
He smiled without warmth.
"Make her trust you."
That afternoon, I received an unexpected visitor.
Sofia Romano arrived with two coffees and a bag of pastries from a bakery on Taylor Street.
"No almonds," she said immediately.
I smiled.
"Thank you."
We sat in the garden while Isabella attended a supervised art lesson inside.
For several minutes, we simply talked.
Sofia told me she worked as an elementary school librarian in Milwaukee.
She loved old movies.
She hated flying.
And she had spent most of her life believing her father had abandoned her.
"My mother never spoke badly about him," she said.
I looked at her.
"Really?"
She nodded.
"She told me he was a complicated man who had made mistakes."
"That's generous."
"Maybe."
Sofia watched the fountain.
"Or maybe she loved him enough to remember the good parts."
I thought of Antonio.
His portrait dominated the mansion.
But until recently, I'd known almost nothing about the man behind it.
"Do you want to be part of this family?" I asked.
Sofia looked surprised.
"I don't know."
I nodded.
"That makes sense."
She turned toward me.
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Do you want to keep working here?"
I looked toward the mansion.
Through the window, I could see Luca kneeling beside Isabella while she showed him a drawing.
Something warm moved through my chest.
"I care about Isabella."
Sofia smiled.
"That wasn't exactly my question."
I blushed.
She laughed softly.
"Relax. I'm not judging you."
I looked down at my coffee.
"Luca is my employer."
"I know."
"And his life is complicated."
"Very."
I shook my head.
"Nothing is going to happen."
Sofia studied me.
Then she said something that made my heart skip.
"My mother used to say the most dangerous lies are the ones we tell ourselves because we're afraid of wanting something."
I looked at her.
She smiled gently.
"Just something to think about."
That evening, Gabriel received a call from the laboratory.
The three desserts had been examined.
Almond ingredients were confirmed in the designated portions.
The decorative sugar flowers also contained traces of an additional substance, but the preliminary results weren't sufficient to identify its origin or determine intent.
Further testing was required.
The findings were concerning enough that investigators expanded their inquiry.
Luca listened without interrupting.
Then asked whether the testing methods and chain of custody had been documented.
Gabriel nodded.
"They're preserving everything."
Luca looked toward the hallway.
"Has Vanessa been informed?"
"Her attorney has received the relevant notifications."
"Good."
He stood.
"Let the investigators do their work."
Then Gabriel added:
"There's another development."
Luca turned.
"What?"
"One of the mansion's former employees has contacted us."
"Who?"
"An assistant house manager named Patricia Wells."
Luca frowned.
"She left six months ago."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"According to the personnel file, she resigned for family reasons."
Gabriel hesitated.
"But she says that's not true."
Luca's jaw tightened.
"What does she want?"
"To speak with Emily."
Patricia arrived the following morning.
She was a woman in her fifties with tired eyes and a nervous smile.
I remembered her well.
She had trained me during my first month.
Then she'd disappeared almost overnight.
Vanessa told everyone Patricia had stolen expensive jewelry.
I never believed it.
Patricia sat across from me in the staff sitting room.
"Emily, I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."
I shook my head.
"You don't have to apologize."
She looked down.
"Vanessa threatened to accuse me of theft if I spoke about what I'd seen."
My stomach tightened.
"What did you see?"
Patricia glanced toward Gabriel, who was present with her permission.
Then she took a photograph from her handbag.
It showed Vanessa standing inside Antonio Moretti's former office.
The room had been locked since his death.
Luca rarely entered it.
I stared at the image.
"Why was she there?"
Patricia swallowed.
"She was searching for something."
"What?"
"A blue ledger."
My heart stopped.
The notebook from my grandmother's box.
Patricia continued.
"I heard her speaking to her father on the phone."
"What did she say?"
Patricia's eyes filled.
"She said Luca's daughter was the last obstacle."
I felt cold all over.
Gabriel leaned forward.
"Do you remember her exact words?"
Patricia nodded.
She took a breath.
Then repeated them.
"Once Isabella is out of the house, Luca will sign anything I put in front of him."
I stared at her.
Patricia wiped her cheeks.
"And then Vanessa laughed."
I couldn't speak.
"She said the little girl didn't need to die."
May you like
A terrible pause followed.
"She only needed to become sick enough that everyone would believe she belonged somewhere else."
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