Chapter 2 - The Bride Who Had Been Hiding a Dead Woman's Secret|
For several seconds, nobody inside the Moretti mansion dared to move.
Luca stood beneath the glittering chandeliers, staring at his new wife as though he were seeing her for the first time.
Vanessa's beautiful face had lost every trace of color.
"Answer me, Vanessa."
His voice was quiet, but I had worked in that mansion long enough to recognize the danger behind his calmness.
"Luca, darling, your mother died fifteen years ago."
"That wasn't my question."
Margaret Whitmore began trembling beside me.
I gently rested my hand on her shoulder, afraid the elderly woman might collapse from the strain.
Vanessa forced a nervous laugh.
"You're seriously going to believe a confused old woman over your own wife?"
Luca looked down at the yellowed letter in his hands.
"My mother wrote this."
"Someone could have forged it."
"Don't insult my intelligence."
The thirty wedding guests sat motionless around the enormous dining table.
A violinist near the entrance slowly lowered his instrument.
Luca unfolded the second page of his mother's letter.
Then he began reading aloud.
"My beloved Luca, if Margaret gives you this letter, it means I was unable to tell you something important while I was alive."
His voice faltered.
He swallowed and continued.
"Victor Bellini has been stealing money from the Saint Agnes Children's Foundation, and I have discovered that his daughter has been helping him conceal the missing funds."
Vanessa suddenly grabbed the edge of a chair.
"That's a lie!"
Luca continued reading.
"I confronted them with the financial records, but Victor threatened to destroy our family if I exposed him."
The room filled with whispers.
I noticed two older men exchanging terrified glances.
They were members of the foundation's board.
Luca turned another page.
"If anything happens to me, do not accept the explanation without asking questions."
He stopped reading.
His mother's handwriting had become increasingly unsteady near the bottom of the letter.
"Margaret knows where I have hidden the truth."
Luca slowly lifted his eyes.
"Where?"
Margaret wiped her tears with a trembling handkerchief.
"Your mother's blue room."
Vanessa's head snapped toward her.
"That room was cleared years ago!"
Luca turned sharply.
"How would you know?"
Vanessa opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
I remembered the blue room immediately.
It was a locked sitting room in the older wing of the mansion, where Maria Moretti had once spent her afternoons reading and writing letters.
Nobody had been allowed inside since I started working there.
Vanessa had personally ordered the housekeeping staff to stay away from it.
Luca folded his mother's letter carefully.
"Margaret, I need you to tell me exactly what happened the night my mother died."
Margaret closed her eyes.
For a moment, I thought she might refuse.
Then she whispered something that made my blood run cold.
"I heard your mother begging Vanessa to give back her medicine."
Vanessa slammed her hand against the table.
"ENOUGH!"
Several guests jumped.
Margaret flinched so violently that I instinctively stepped between her and the bride.
"Please don't shout at her," I said.
Vanessa pointed at my face.
"You're a maid, Claire!"
"I know."
"Then remember your place!"
Before I could respond, Luca spoke.
"Her place is wherever she chooses to stand."
The silence that followed felt almost unbearable.
Vanessa stared at him.
"You can't seriously be defending her against your own wife."
Luca glanced at Margaret, still trembling in the chair I had given her.
"I'm defending someone who came here because my mother asked her to."
He motioned toward his head of security.
"Daniel, please escort our guests to the front reception room."
"Of course, sir."
"And ask everyone to leave their phones with them."
He paused.
"No photographs of Mrs. Whitmore are to be distributed without her permission."
I saw the relief in Margaret's eyes.
She had come to keep a promise, not become the subject of wealthy strangers' gossip.
As the guests began filing out, Vanessa caught Luca's arm.
"Please, let's discuss this privately."
He looked at her wedding ring.
Only a few hours earlier, he had slipped that ring onto her finger before a priest and two hundred witnesses.
Now he slowly removed her hand from his sleeve.
"We will discuss it."
"Thank God."
"But first, I'm calling my attorney."
Vanessa stiffened.
"Your attorney?"
"And I'm preserving every document my mother left behind."
Luca turned toward me.
"Claire, would you please take Margaret to the library and bring her some water?"
"Yes, Mr. Moretti."
Margaret struggled to stand.
I helped her carefully, feeling how little strength remained in her arms.
As we passed Vanessa, she leaned toward me.
Her perfume was expensive and overpowering.
Her whisper was almost inaudible.
"You have no idea what you've just started."
I looked directly at her.
"Maybe not."
Then I tightened my arm around Margaret.
"But I'm not leaving her alone."
We reached the library just as the mansion's grandfather clock struck eleven.
Margaret sank into a comfortable armchair.
For the first time that evening, she seemed able to breathe.
She caught my wrist.
"Claire, there's something Luca doesn't understand."
I knelt beside her.
"What is it?"
"Maria didn't write that letter because she was afraid Victor would steal more money."
Her eyes filled with fresh tears.
"She wrote it because she knew someone was willing to kill to keep the theft hidden."
Before I could answer, I heard footsteps outside the library.
Then Vanessa's voice echoed from the hallway.
She was speaking into her phone.
"Father, it's happened."
A terrible pause followed.
"They found Maria's letter."
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Then she whispered five words that changed everything.
"Margaret Whitmore is still alive."
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