Chapter 2 - THE NAME THAT BROUGHT THE WEDDING TO AN END|
The name written across the yellowed envelope made Luca Moretti look as though someone had reached into his chest and stopped his heart.
For several seconds, he stood motionless beneath the ballroom chandeliers, holding the envelope in one hand and his father's gold pocket watch in the other.
I had never seen him look so frightened.
Not when rival families threatened his businesses.
Not when armed men appeared outside his Chicago mansion.
Not even when the police raided one of his warehouses two years earlier.
But the name on that envelope had shaken him completely.
"Anthony Russo," Luca whispered.
Vanessa backed away from him.
"Darling, don't make a scene over something that happened twenty years ago."
Luca slowly lifted his eyes.
"Do you know who Anthony Russo is, Claire?"
I shook my head.
"No, sir."
"He was convicted of murdering my father."
A terrible silence settled over the ballroom.
I looked at the envelope again, suddenly understanding why Luca's hands were trembling.
"He's been in prison for almost twenty years," Luca continued.
"The police said he shot my father outside our family's restaurant."
"And you believed them?" I asked before I could stop myself.
Luca stared at me.
"Everyone believed them."
Vanessa moved beside him and placed a perfectly manicured hand on his arm.
"Exactly, darling, and the courts settled everything years ago."
Luca pulled away.
"Then why did my father write a letter to the man accused of killing him?"
Vanessa opened her mouth but said nothing.
Luca examined the sealed envelope.
The handwriting was faded, yet unmistakably deliberate.
Across the front were four words.
For Anthony Russo, personally.
Beneath them was a date.
October 17, 2006.
Luca's expression changed.
"That's the day before my father was murdered."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
My grandfather had kept that envelope hidden for twenty years.
And somehow, it had survived until the night I accidentally placed it in the hands of the one man who needed to see it.
"Open it," Vanessa said suddenly.
Her voice sounded too eager.
Then she seemed to reconsider.
"Actually, perhaps we should have our lawyers examine it first."
Luca ignored her.
He carefully broke the brittle seal and unfolded two pages of handwriting.
His eyes moved across the first paragraph.
Then he gripped the edge of the wedding table.
"My father knew," he whispered.
I stepped closer.
"Knew what?"
Luca read aloud.
"Anthony, if something happens to me tomorrow, they will tell you that you have no choice but to accept the blame."
"Don't believe them."
"I have discovered what Angelo Bellini and Martin Vale did to our property, and I finally have the papers to prove it."
At the mention of Martin Vale, Luca raised his head.
Martin was the Moretti family's longtime attorney.
He had helped Luca manage business contracts since Frank Moretti's death.
He was also standing near the champagne fountain, suddenly looking as pale as the tablecloth.
Luca continued reading.
"Nathan Bennett has agreed to protect the original evidence until it can reach someone trustworthy."
"If they silence me, tell my son that the watch was never the real secret."
"The secret is what they were willing to destroy to keep it hidden."
My knees nearly gave way.
Nathan Bennett was my grandfather.
The same man who taught me to repair broken clocks at his little pawnshop.
The same man who had spent his final weeks asking me to promise that I would never throw away anything from his workshop.
Luca lowered the letter.
"Claire, did your grandfather ever tell you he knew my father personally?"
"He told me they were friends," I answered.
"But I never knew they were involved in anything dangerous."
Luca looked toward Martin Vale.
"Martin, come here."
The older attorney hesitated.
He adjusted his glasses and approached the wedding table.
"There's clearly been a misunderstanding, Luca."
"Then explain why my father named you in a letter written hours before his murder."
Martin swallowed.
"I haven't seen that document, and I can't authenticate it from across the room."
Luca held it out.
"Then look closely."
Martin reached for the paper.
But Luca pulled it back before his fingers touched it.
Something about the attorney's expression had changed his mind.
Vanessa suddenly raised her voice.
"This is ridiculous!"
"Are you seriously going to ruin our wedding because a housemaid brought you some dirty old papers?"
Luca turned toward her.
"You're worried about our wedding?"
"Of course I am!"
"My father invited half of Chicago's most influential families!"
"And my father may have been murdered because of yours."
The words struck the room like a gunshot.
Vanessa stared at her new husband, her face twisting with anger.
"You don't understand what you're doing."
"Then help me understand."
She looked toward Martin.
He looked away.
Luca placed the watch back into the wooden box I had made.
Then he addressed the guests.
"The celebration is over."
A few people gasped.
"Please leave my home."
Within minutes, chairs scraped against the marble floor, expensive evening gowns disappeared into the hallway, and the musicians began packing away their instruments.
The magnificent wedding reception was ending before the cake had even been cut.
I stood beside the abandoned gift table, wondering whether I had just destroyed my employer's marriage.
Luca approached me quietly.
"Claire, I need you to take me to your grandfather's shop."
"Tonight?"
"Before anyone else gets there."
I glanced toward Vanessa.
She stood near the staircase, whispering furiously into her phone.
Then she noticed us watching and ended the call.
Luca followed my gaze.
"Marco will drive us."
He paused.
"And Claire?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Whatever happens next, nobody is going to punish you for bringing my father's watch home."
I wanted to believe him.
But an hour later, when our car stopped outside my grandfather's pawnshop in Lakeview, I saw something that made my stomach turn.
The front window had been smashed.
The security gate hung crookedly from its hinges.
May you like
And written across the broken glass in thick red paint were five terrifying words.
SOME SECRETS SHOULD STAY BURIED.
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