Chapter 5 - THE ASHES IN THE HEARTH
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The entire room shifted its attention to Silvio, the venerable architect of the Moretti organization.
Silvio had guided Luca through the bloody aftermath of his father's death a decade ago.
He had negotiated every truce and managed every financial account for the syndicate.
Luca turned his gaze from his weeping wife to his father's only surviving brother.
"Level heads, Uncle Silvio?" Luca asked, his voice dripping with venomous sarcasm.
"My mother’s ghost has wandered this house for eighteen years while her killer wore diamonds at my table."
"And my only sister was chased into the cold like a stray dog."
Silvio offered a placating smile, adjusting his silk necktie with practiced composure.
"Of course it is tragic, nephew," Silvio reasoned smoothly.
"But we cannot allow a ghost from the past to dismantle the empire we have bled to build."
"Let Matteo take the girl to a guest room, send the sister to a hotel, and let us finish Christmas dinner."
Olivia let out a sharp, ragged laugh that cut right through Silvio’s polished diplomacy.
"A hotel, Uncle Silvio?" Olivia challenged, standing up on unsteady legs.
"Just like the hotel in Denver where your hitmen nearly trapped me six years ago?"
Silvio’s smile vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, reptilian stare.
My heart leapt into my throat as a sudden, terrifying realization washed over me.
Three nights ago, while performing my late-night cleaning duties in the master library, I had witnessed something peculiar.
Vanessa had entered the library past midnight, carrying a stack of yellowed paper files.
She had spent nearly an hour feeding them into the hearth, stirring the embers until everything was gray powder.
I remembered the panic on her face when she noticed me dusting the grandfather clock in the shadows.
She had threatened to have me fired onto the street if I ever mentioned her late-night fireplace visits.
Now, looking at Olivia’s worn face and Luca’s shattered eyes, I knew I could not remain a silent bystander.
I took a hesitant step forward, my apron rustling against the silver serving cart.
"Mr. Moretti," I spoke up, my voice shaking but loud enough for the entire banquet hall to hear.
Every head in the room snapped in my direction, shocked that a simple maid dared to speak.
Vanessa’s eyes flared with sudden, venomous hatred.
"Shut your mouth, Claire!" Vanessa screamed hysterically.
"You are a peasant hired to clean toilets, not to open your filthy mouth!"
Luca raised his hand, silencing Vanessa instantly without even looking at her.
"Speak, Claire," Luca commanded softly, his dark eyes fixed entirely upon me.
"You have worked in this house for five years, and you have never spoken out of turn."
"What do you know?"
I took a deep breath, trying to steady the wild pounding behind my ribs.
"Three nights ago, Mrs. Moretti spent hours burning old bank statements and personal letters in the library," I said.
"She didn't burn all of them, sir."
"The chimney damper was jammed, so she panicked when the room filled with smoke."
"She took the remaining bundle and shoved it inside the false bottom of her vanity chest upstairs."
Vanessa lunged toward me with raw fury in her eyes, but Matteo’s grip held her firmly in place.
"You lying little gutter rat!" Vanessa shrieked, spitting toward my shoes.
Luca didn't scream or curse; he merely looked at his chief enforcer.
"Matteo, keep your hands on my wife."
May you like
Luca then looked straight at me, his gaze fierce with sudden purpose.
"Claire, take two guards and bring that vanity chest down here right now."
