Chapter 7 - The Maid’s Compassion
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Evelyn swayed on her feet, the immense emotional weight of the confrontation suddenly draining every ounce of her strength.
Her scarred hands lost their grip on the edge of the table, and her knees buckled beneath her faded blue dress.
Before she could hit the marble, Luca crossed the floor with astonishing speed and caught her gently in his arms.
The hardened mafia boss lifted the frail seventy-six-year-old woman as if she were made of delicate porcelain.
Evelyn gasped, looking up into Luca’s fierce, protective eyes with genuine wonder and gratitude.
"I'm sorry, young man," Evelyn whispered weakly, her breath shallow and uneven.
"I didn't mean to cause such destruction on your wedding night."
Luca looked down at her ruined hands, where thick burn scars still marked the bravery of a woman who refused to let his father die.
"You saved the man who gave me a life, Mrs. Carter," Luca said softly, his voice full of profound reverence.
"You apologize for nothing in this house, ever again."
Luca turned toward Claire Bennett, who stood respectfully nearby, holding Evelyn’s worn canvas bag in her hands.
Luca had watched Claire for months; she was quiet, diligent, and possessed an innate dignity that none of the wealthy debutantes had.
"Claire," Luca called out, his tone softer than anyone had ever heard it before.
"Yes, Mr. Moretti?" Claire replied instantly, stepping forward without hesitation.
"I want you to prepare the master guest suite on the second floor immediately," Luca ordered.
"Call Dr. Rossi and tell him to bring his best burn care supplies and cardiac monitors."
"From this moment on, your only duty in this mansion is to look after Evelyn Carter."
Claire nodded firmly, feeling a swell of deep admiration for the loyalty displayed by the dangerous mafia boss.
"I will take care of her with my life, Mr. Moretti," Claire promised, stepping beside him to guide the way.
Luca carried Evelyn up the grand staircase, leaving his father standing in the center of the silent, ruined dining room.
Frank walked slowly over to where Vanessa remained on the floor, weeping into her disheveled bridal veil.
He looked down at his biological daughter, seeing his own mother’s eyes staring back at him through a veil of tears.
"Get up, Vanessa," Frank said quietly, offering his weathered, calloused hand to the woman who had disgraced him.
"You have spent thirty-eight years living a lie created by monsters."
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"It is time to find out if there is any Moretti honor left inside your soul."
Vanessa hesitated, looking at her father’s outstretched hand before slowly reaching up to take it.
