Chapter 2 - The Saddle in the Chandelier Light|
Graham did not hesitate once Luca gave the command.
He turned on his heel and walked swiftly toward the double doors leading into the courtyard.
The dining room remained so quiet that the faint clinking of crystal chandeliers sounded like breaking ice.
Vanessa reached for her champagne flute, but her fingers were trembling so violently that the golden liquid splashed against the white linen tablecloth.
None of the thirty-two guests seated around the table dared to take a sip or whisper to their neighbor.
They all knew who Luca Moretti was and what happened to people who crossed him.
Luca remained standing beside his daughter, his large hand resting gently on her small, trembling shoulder.
Ava was still clutching the muddy brass nameplate against her lace dress as if it were the only shield she had left in the world.
I stepped back toward the perimeter of the room, my heart hammering furiously against my ribs.
My hands were still stained with the dry dust from Copper’s old halter.
Five excruciating minutes passed before the heavy doors swung open once again.
Graham returned, carrying an aged brown leather saddle over his broad arm.
The leather was worn and softened by years of careful oiling, bearing faint scuff marks along the stirrups.
Tied securely to the back of the cantle was a weathered leather pouch, fastened with a silver cord and stamped with a faded wax seal.
The sight of that familiar saddle made Ava’s breath hitch in her throat.
"That's mine," she whispered, her voice cracking across the silent room.
"Mommy helped me clean the buckles the day before she went away."
Luca’s jaw clenched so hard that a sharp muscle ticked beneath his bronze skin.
He signaled Graham to bring the saddle forward.
Graham placed it directly upon the table, resting the worn leather among the silver platters and crystal vases.
Vanessa flinched as if a loaded weapon had been dropped into the center of the feast.
"Luca, this is entirely uncalled for," Vanessa said, trying to steady her fluttering voice.
"We have the most influential families in the city sitting at this table."
"They came to celebrate our future, not rummage through old junk from the barn."
Luca did not even look at her as he reached out toward the saddle.
His calloused fingers traced the silver cord that bound the small pouch.
"Caroline tied this knot," Luca said, his voice dangerously low.
"I taught her how to tie it when we were eighteen years old."
"She only used this specific braid when she wanted to make sure something stayed safe."
He looked up, his dark eyes locking onto Vanessa with lethal intensity.
"Why did you tell Graham to throw this away, Vanessa?"
"I didn't tell him to throw it away," she stammered, pulling her red silk shawl tighter around her bare shoulders.
"I merely thought Ava needed a clean break from the past so she could focus on her new life."
"A clean break?" Luca asked, tilting his head slightly.
"By selling an eighteen-year-old gelding to a slaughter-bound auction in Indiana?"
"By stripping away the last gift my deceased wife gave to our only child?"
Vanessa swallowed hard, her manicured fingers digging into her palms.
"You're blowing this out of proportion because of the maid's dramatics."
She glared in my direction, her eyes burning with pure venom.
"Rachel has been poisoning Ava's mind against me since the day I moved into this house."
"Rachel didn't say a single word until you lied about my daughter's wishes," Luca replied cold as stone.
He turned back to the saddle and slid a pocketknife from his jacket.
With one clean, deliberate motion, he severed the silver cord.
The leather pouch fell into his palm.
Inside, wrapped in oilcloth to protect it from moisture, rested a folded parchment bearing Caroline's elegant script.
May you like
On the outside of the envelope, written in faded blue ink, were four words:
For Luca, When Truth Calls.
