Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Came to Buy a Mother's Home|
For several seconds, nobody answered Matteo Russo's question.
The chandeliers glittered above thirty-six guests who suddenly seemed afraid to breathe.
Scarlett Hayes stood beside the dining table, her emerald-green dress shining beneath the golden lights.
Her father, Elliot Hayes, slowly lowered his wineglass.
And the elegant gray-haired woman at the far end of the table looked as though she wished she could disappear.
I was still holding Evelyn Russo's trembling hand.
Her fingers felt cold despite the warmth of the room.
Matteo looked directly at the gray-haired woman.
"I'm going to ask you something, and I expect the truth."
She straightened in her chair.
"My name is Celeste Whitmore."
"I didn't ask your name."
Matteo placed the folded contract on the table.
"I asked why you're buying my mother's home."
Celeste glanced toward Scarlett.
That single movement told me more than any answer could have.
Scarlett immediately stepped forward.
"Matteo, please don't embarrass our guests."
He turned toward her.
"You're worried about embarrassment?"
"Darling, this is a misunderstanding."
"My mother is sitting here with a packed suitcase because somebody told her she was being thrown out."
Scarlett pressed her lips together.
Matteo continued.
"And apparently, somebody is selling the house she has lived in for fifty years."
Elliot Hayes rose from his chair.
"Matteo, perhaps we should discuss business privately."
Matteo didn't move.
"Business became public when you invited the buyer to dinner."
Several guests looked toward the doors.
Nobody wanted to be involved in what was happening.
I couldn't blame them.
Everyone in Chicago knew the Russo name.
But I had never seen Matteo look the way he did that evening.
He wasn't shouting.
He wasn't threatening anybody.
He simply stood beside his mother, waiting for the people he trusted to explain themselves.
And somehow, his silence was more frightening than anger.
Celeste finally spoke.
"I represent Bellwether Property Holdings."
Matteo frowned.
"That company made an offer on the house six months ago."
"Yes."
"I rejected it."
Celeste swallowed.
"I was informed that circumstances had changed."
"By whom?"
She looked toward the opposite end of the table.
I followed her gaze.
Luca Russo, Matteo's older brother, was staring down at his untouched dinner.
He wore an expensive navy suit and a gold watch that caught the candlelight.
I had always thought Luca looked like a man who worried about money despite having more than most people could imagine.
Tonight, he looked terrified.
Matteo noticed.
"Luca."
His brother slowly raised his head.
"Don't do this here."
Matteo walked toward him.
"Tell me you didn't help these people sell Mom's house."
Luca's jaw tightened.
"It's more complicated than you think."
"Then explain it."
Luca looked at their mother.
Evelyn was watching him with the heartbreaking expression of a woman waiting for her child to admit he had made a terrible mistake.
"I thought it was the best solution," Luca whispered.
Matteo stared at him.
"The best solution for whom?"
Before Luca could answer, Scarlett stepped between them.
"Your mother doesn't need a mansion anymore."
The words seemed to strike Evelyn physically.
She lowered her head.
Scarlett continued.
"She's eighty-one, Matteo."
"She's aware of her age."
"She needs a smaller place, professional care, and people who can handle her condition."
I felt Evelyn's grip tighten.
"What condition?" Matteo asked.
Scarlett hesitated.
"Her memory problems."
I looked up sharply.
During fourteen months of working in that mansion, I had watched Evelyn remember birthdays, doctor's appointments, family anniversaries, and even the names of employees' children.
Sometimes she misplaced her reading glasses.
Sometimes she repeated a story about her late husband.
But there was nothing unusual about that.
Matteo looked at his mother.
"Mom, have you been having trouble remembering things?"
Evelyn shook her head.
"I don't think so, sweetheart."
Scarlett sighed dramatically.
"That's exactly what someone with memory problems would say."
Something hot rose in my chest.
I had spent the afternoon watching Evelyn cry over a suitcase.
I had listened as she asked whether she could take the photograph of her wedding day.
And now Scarlett was making her sound incapable of knowing her own mind.
"That's not true," I said.
Everyone turned toward me.
Scarlett's eyes narrowed.
"Anna, you've already been dismissed."
I swallowed.
"Mrs. Russo knows exactly what's happening."
Matteo looked at me.
"Keep talking."
I drew a shaky breath.
"She asked three times whether you'd agreed to send her away."
Evelyn started crying again.
"Scarlett told me I shouldn't bother you."
Matteo turned slowly.
"Why?"
"Because you were finally happy."
Her voice broke.
"And I didn't want to ruin your happiness."
Matteo went back to her chair.
He knelt and took both her hands.
"Mom, listen to me."
She looked at him through her tears.
"You have never ruined my happiness."
For the first time that evening, I saw something vulnerable in the man's face.
He looked less like a feared mafia boss and more like a little boy frightened by the possibility of losing his mother.
Then Celeste opened her leather briefcase.
"Mr. Russo, there is something you should know."
She removed a second document.
"The preliminary sale agreement was executed three weeks ago."
Matteo stood.
"That's impossible."
Celeste slid the paper across the table.
"It carries the signatures of your mother, your brother Luca, and yourself."
Matteo picked it up.
His eyes moved down the page.
Then stopped.
I watched the color drain from his face.
"Where did you get this?"
"From the attorney coordinating the transaction."
Matteo lifted the paper.
"My signature is on this contract."
Scarlett looked relieved.
"Then surely we can all calm down."
But Matteo's next words made every smile disappear.
"I didn't sign it."
He placed the document beside Evelyn's untouched dessert plate.
May you like
Then he looked directly at his fiancée.
"Somebody forged my name to steal my mother's house, and nobody is leaving this conversation until I know who."
