Chapter 3 - THE MAN WHO OPENED THE DOOR|
"My father said those photographs were destroyed."
Vanessa Bellini whispered the words so quietly that I almost thought I had imagined them.
But Matteo DeLuca heard her.
And the expression on his face made every person in the dining room stop breathing.
"What did you just say?"
Vanessa blinked.
"Nothing."
Matteo took one slow step toward her.
"You said your father destroyed the photographs."
"I said I thought those photographs were destroyed."
"Why would your father destroy a photograph of mine?"
Vanessa's lips parted, but no answer came.
Twenty-eight guests had arrived expecting champagne, expensive food, and an announcement about Chicago's most talked-about engagement.
Instead, they were watching a thirty-year-old family secret unfold beneath crystal chandeliers.
I stood beside Eleanor Price, whose broken orthopedic shoe was still tied together with the white ribbon from my apron.
Her fingers were wrapped tightly around mine.
"Claire," she whispered, "something terrible is going to happen."
I looked down at her.
"What do you mean?"
She stared at Vanessa.
"That girl has her father's eyes."
Across the room, Matteo placed the photograph on the dining table.
"Robert, did you know Victor Bellini was with my father the night he died?"
Robert Hale adjusted his glasses.
"I knew they had business together."
"That's not what I asked."
Robert looked at the photograph.
"Yes."
Matteo went still.
"You knew?"
"Matteo, your father had many associates."
"And you never thought to mention that one of them was the father of the woman I was going to marry?"
Robert's silence was answer enough.
Matteo gave a short, humorless laugh.
"Unbelievable."
Vanessa stepped forward.
"You're making connections that don't exist."
Matteo turned toward her.
"Then help me understand."
He pointed toward the photograph.
"Why was your father standing outside the warehouse where mine was murdered?"
Vanessa crossed her arms.
"Because they were businessmen."
"And why did my mother write that Victor knew who opened the door?"
"I don't know."
"Ask him."
"My father is in Florida."
"Then call Florida."
She stared at him.
For the first time since I had met her, Vanessa Bellini looked genuinely frightened.
Not offended.
Not irritated.
Frightened.
Matteo reached for his phone.
"Actually, I'll call him myself."
Vanessa grabbed his wrist.
"Don't."
The room went silent.
Matteo looked down at her hand.
Then slowly raised his eyes.
"Take your hand off me."
She released him.
"Please, Matteo."
That single word changed something.
Vanessa never said please.
Not to the kitchen staff.
Not to the drivers.
Not even to Eleanor, who was old enough to be her mother.
But now she sounded like someone standing at the edge of a cliff.
Matteo studied her.
"What are you afraid he'll tell me?"
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
"You don't understand what you're doing."
"Then explain it."
She shook her head.
"I can't."
"Can't or won't?"
Before she could answer, a security guard entered the dining room.
"Mr. DeLuca?"
Matteo turned.
"What is it, Daniel?"
"There's been an incident at the front gate."
My stomach tightened.
"What kind of incident?"
Daniel glanced at the guests.
"Someone attempted to leave through the service driveway."
Matteo frowned.
"Who?"
"Gordon Pike."
The household manager.
The man who had tried to take Margaret's documents.
Matteo's jaw tightened.
"I told you to keep him in my office."
"We did, sir."
"Then how did he get outside?"
Daniel hesitated.
"Someone unlocked the side entrance remotely."
Matteo slowly turned toward Vanessa.
She looked away.
"Bring him back," Matteo said.
"Sir, there's something else."
Daniel held out a small black object.
"We found this in his jacket."
It was a flash drive.
Matteo took it.
"What's on it?"
"We haven't checked."
"Get my laptop."
Vanessa suddenly moved toward the table.
"Matteo, this is ridiculous."
He ignored her.
A few minutes later, Daniel returned with a computer.
Matteo inserted the flash drive.
Several folders appeared on the screen.
Property Records.
Estate Documents.
Security Archives.
And one folder labeled PRIVATE.
Matteo clicked it.
The screen filled with scanned documents.
I recognized Eleanor's eviction notice.
Then Margaret's name.
Then a list of seven cottages.
Beside each address was a number.
Not a house number.
A dollar amount.
$425,000.
$390,000.
$510,000.
The amounts continued down the page.
At the bottom was a total.
$3,175,000.
Matteo stared at it.
"They were going to sell the cottages."
Robert leaned closer.
"That appears to be the projected value."
"And the west wing?"
Robert scrolled down.
Another figure appeared.
$18,600,000.
A woman near the fireplace gasped.
Vanessa suddenly spoke.
"Those are preliminary valuations."
Matteo looked at her.
"So you knew."
She closed her eyes.
"I knew Adrian was reviewing the properties."
"Properties my mother protected for the people who cared for her?"
"Your mother has been dead for six years."
Eleanor flinched.
I felt her hand tighten.
Matteo's face hardened.
"Be careful."
Vanessa lifted her chin.
"I'm only saying that circumstances change."
"Not promises."
"Promises don't pay property taxes."
"Neither does throwing elderly people into the street."
Vanessa's face reddened.
"You have no idea how much money this family wastes maintaining those cottages."
Matteo looked at her for a long moment.
Then he said something I would never forget.
"The people living in those cottages helped my mother survive when my father died."
His voice remained steady.
"That isn't waste."
He closed the computer.
"That's a debt I will never finish repaying."
Eleanor began crying.
Margaret reached for her hand.
And for one brief moment, I thought the worst was over.
I was wrong.
Daniel's phone rang.
He listened for several seconds.
Then his expression changed.
"Mr. DeLuca, we have a problem."
"What now?"
"Gordon's vehicle was found two blocks from the property."
"Was he inside?"
"No, sir."
"Then where is he?"
"We don't know."
Matteo looked toward the window.
Beyond the glass, the mansion's gardens disappeared into darkness.
"Lock down the property."
Vanessa gasped.
"You can't keep everyone here."
"I'm not keeping anyone here."
Matteo turned toward the guests.
"You're free to leave whenever you wish."
Then he looked at Daniel.
"But nobody enters my private offices without authorization."
The guests began collecting their coats.
The engagement dinner was officially over.
Within twenty minutes, the dining room had emptied.
Only Matteo, Vanessa, Robert, Eleanor, Margaret, two security guards, and I remained.
I began clearing the untouched dessert plates.
My hands were shaking.
"Claire."
Matteo's voice stopped me.
I turned.
"Yes, sir?"
"Leave those."
I set down the tray.
He looked at Eleanor's shoe.
"Did you repair that?"
"Temporarily."
"With your apron ribbon?"
"Yes."
He studied me.
"Why?"
I didn't understand the question.
"Because it was broken."
"Nobody asked you to help her."
I glanced at Eleanor.
"She was hurting."
Matteo said nothing.
I continued.
"She told me she'd been standing for almost forty minutes, and I couldn't just leave her there."
His expression softened.
"Thank you."
Two simple words.
But I had worked in that house for six months without hearing them from anyone except the cooks.
I lowered my eyes.
"You're welcome, sir."
Vanessa gave a bitter laugh.
"Wonderful."
Everyone turned.
"Now we're thanking the maid for tying a shoe."
Matteo looked at her.
"Yes."
Vanessa stared.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm thanking someone who showed kindness when you showed cruelty."
Her face twisted.
"You are not going to humiliate me over a housekeeper."
Matteo's voice dropped.
"She's a person, Vanessa."
"So am I."
"Then start acting like one."
Vanessa stepped backward as though he had slapped her.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then she reached for her engagement ring.
She twisted it once.
Twice.
I thought she was going to remove it.
Instead, she pointed toward Eleanor.
"This entire disaster started because that woman couldn't accept that her time with this family was over."
Matteo's eyes darkened.
"Get out."
Vanessa froze.
"What?"
"Leave the dining room."
"Matteo—"
"Now."
She grabbed her handbag and stormed toward the doorway.
But before she disappeared, she turned toward me.
Her eyes were full of hatred.
"You should have minded your own business, Claire."
Then she left.
I stood motionless.
Matteo watched the doorway for several seconds.
Finally, he turned toward Eleanor.
"You're staying here tonight."
She shook her head.
"Sweetheart, I don't want to cause trouble."
"You haven't caused anything."
"But my cottage—"
"Your cottage isn't going anywhere."
He knelt beside her chair.
And the sight of a man like Matteo DeLuca kneeling before an elderly former employee made my throat tighten.
"I promise you, Ellie."
He took her hands.
"Nobody is taking your home."
She touched his cheek.
"Your mother would be proud of you."
Matteo lowered his head.
For a moment, I saw the little boy Eleanor had raised.
Not the man everyone feared.
Just a son who missed his mother.
Then Margaret spoke.
"Matteo, there's something else in the case."
He looked up.
"What?"
"A second letter."
She removed a smaller envelope.
Unlike the first, this one was addressed to Robert Hale.
Robert's expression changed.
"To me?"
Margaret nodded.
"Your mother said it was to be opened only if someone challenged the trust."
Robert took the envelope.
His hands trembled as he unfolded the paper.
He read silently.
Then he sat down.
Matteo frowned.
"Robert?"
The attorney didn't answer.
"Robert, what does it say?"
The older man slowly looked up.
"Your mother knew someone would try to steal the properties."
Matteo stared at him.
"Who?"
Robert swallowed.
"She believed the same person had arranged your father's murder."
The room went completely silent.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Matteo's voice became dangerously quiet.
"Give me the letter."
Robert hesitated.
Then handed it over.
Matteo read the first paragraph.
His jaw tightened.
He read the second.
Then he stopped.
"Claire."
I looked up.
"Yes?"
"Take Eleanor and Margaret upstairs."
Something in his voice frightened me.
"Sir?"
"Please."
I moved toward Eleanor.
But she shook her head.
"No."
Matteo looked at her.
"Ellie."
"No, sweetheart."
Her voice trembled.
"I have kept this secret for thirty years."
She stood slowly.
"And I will not hide from it anymore."
Matteo stared at her.
"What secret?"
Eleanor began crying.
"Your father wasn't killed because a business deal went wrong."
Matteo's face went white.
"Then why?"
She looked toward the photograph on the table.
"Because he discovered someone was stealing from the families of men who had died working for him."
Matteo didn't move.
Eleanor continued.
"Your father was going to expose the theft."
"Who was stealing?"
Eleanor closed her eyes.
"Victor Bellini."
Matteo stared at her.
Then his phone rang.
The caller ID displayed an unfamiliar number.
He answered.
"DeLuca."
A man's voice came through the speaker.
Smooth.
Older.
Almost amused.
"Matteo, my boy."
Vanessa's father.
Victor Bellini.
Matteo slowly straightened.
"Victor."
"I hear you've been asking questions about things that happened a long time ago."
Matteo's expression hardened.
"Where are you?"
Victor chuckled.
"That's not important."
"Did you kill my father?"
Silence.
Then Victor spoke.
"Your father made a terrible mistake."
Matteo gripped the phone.
"What mistake?"
"He trusted the wrong people."
Matteo's breathing changed.
"Answer my question."
Victor ignored him.
"Listen carefully, son."
"I'm not your son."
"Then listen carefully, Matteo."
The older man's voice lost its warmth.
"You have until midnight tomorrow to destroy those documents."
Matteo glanced at the clock.
11:17 p.m.
"And if I don't?"
Victor laughed softly.
"Then the little maid who tied Eleanor's shoe will discover exactly what happens to people who interfere in Bellini family business."
My heart stopped.
Matteo turned toward me.
May you like
And Victor spoke one final sentence.
"Tell Claire Bennett I hope her little sister gets home safely from nursing school tonight."
