Chapter 2 - THE TWO MEN AT THE KITCHEN DOOR|
Vivienne Moretti stood in the kitchen doorway with two armed men behind her, and for the first time in five years, I saw something in Luca Moretti's eyes that frightened me more than his anger.
It was disbelief.
Not because his wife had brought armed strangers into his home.
But because she had brought them to threaten his seventy-eight-year-old father.
"Get away from that door, Vivienne," Luca said quietly.
She didn't move.
Instead, she folded her arms across her expensive burgundy dress and smiled.
"Darling, there's no reason to make this difficult."
One of the men stepped forward.
He was broad-shouldered, with a scar above his eyebrow and a black pistol resting against his hip.
The other man remained beside the door, watching Luca as if he were waiting for permission to do something terrible.
I instinctively moved closer to Frank.
His trembling fingers were still wrapped around the folded guardianship petition.
"Claire," he whispered, "please don't let them take me."
Those words nearly broke me.
This was the same man who had spent every Christmas morning bringing coffee and homemade pastries to the mansion's employees.
The same man who remembered every housekeeper's birthday.
And now he was begging a maid to protect him from his own family.
"Nobody is taking you anywhere, Mr. Frank," I promised.
Vivienne laughed.
"How touching."
She turned toward Luca.
"Your father needs professional care, darling."
"My father needs a seat at his own Thanksgiving table."
"He's confused."
"He knows exactly who you are."
Her smile disappeared.
Luca held up the forged document.
"Tell me why my signature is on this."
Vivienne glanced at the paper.
"Matteo handled the legal arrangements."
"Then Matteo can explain why somebody forged my name."
One of the armed men shifted his weight.
Luca noticed immediately.
"If either of you reaches for that weapon, you're going to have a very unpleasant evening."
The man with the scar hesitated.
I had seen Luca face dangerous people before.
He never raised his voice when he was truly angry.
That was what made his anger so terrifying.
Vivienne stepped between them.
"Those men work for a licensed security company."
"They don't work for me."
"They're here to escort Frank to a private care facility."
Frank's breathing became shallow.
"Tonight?" he whispered.
Vivienne looked at him without a trace of sympathy.
"Tomorrow morning."
I felt his hand tighten around mine.
"But tomorrow's Friday," he said.
"I know what day it is, Frank."
"But Luca and I were going to watch the parade recording together."
Vivienne rolled her eyes.
"Good heavens, you're not a child."
Luca stepped toward her.
"Get out."
"Excuse me?"
"Get these men out of my house."
She stared at him.
"Your brother warned me you would react emotionally."
That was when I understood something important.
Vivienne hadn't expected Luca to find his father in the kitchen.
She had expected the old man to disappear quietly while thirty guests distracted his son.
The guardianship petition was only part of their plan.
I glanced toward the counter.
Beneath its polished edge was a small emergency button Frank had insisted on installing years earlier.
He had installed one in every kitchen work area after a former employee collapsed while working alone.
Nobody knew about them except the household staff and Luca's longtime security chief, Dante Russo.
I reached for a dish towel.
Then I deliberately knocked a metal spoon onto the floor.
As everyone looked down, I pressed the button beneath the counter.
A tiny blue light flashed.
Vivienne turned toward me.
"What are you doing?"
"Cleaning up, ma'am."
"Then keep your hands where I can see them."
I stood straight.
Frank began coughing.
His face had grown unusually pale.
"Claire," he murmured, "I haven't had my evening medicine."
I turned toward Vivienne.
"Where is his medication?"
She shrugged.
"The nurse said it wasn't necessary."
"What nurse?" Luca demanded.
"The specialist Matteo hired."
Luca looked at his father.
"Dad, did anyone examine you?"
Frank shook his head.
"A woman asked me questions yesterday."
"What kind of questions?"
"She asked whether I knew what year it was."
"And?"
"I told her it was 2026."
His voice cracked.
"Then she asked whether I knew my wife's name."
A terrible silence followed.
Frank's wife, Elena, had been dead for more than thirty years.
"I told her I remember Elena every morning," he whispered.
"She wrote something down and said I was confused."
Luca closed his eyes.
When he opened them, I saw the beginnings of tears.
Then heavy footsteps sounded in the service hallway.
The kitchen door swung open behind the armed men.
Dante Russo stood there with two members of Luca's regular security team.
"Boss," Dante said, looking from the weapons to Frank.
"Claire triggered the emergency alarm."
Vivienne's face went white.
Luca didn't hesitate.
"Disarm them."
The two hired guards looked at Dante's men, then at Luca.
After several tense seconds, they placed their weapons on the counter.
Dante escorted them out without a struggle.
Vivienne reached for her phone.
Luca caught her wrist before she could make the call.
"Who are you contacting?"
"My attorney."
"Then tell your attorney I'll be contacting the police."
She pulled away.
"You have no idea what you're interfering with."
"I know my father was threatened in my own home."
Vivienne gave him a cold smile.
"Matteo said you'd choose sentiment over business."
Then she walked out.
Dante followed her at Luca's instruction, ensuring she couldn't approach Frank again.
For several moments, nobody spoke.
I found Frank's medication in the locked cabinet where it had always been kept and brought Luca the labeled container.
Luca checked it carefully before helping his father take his scheduled dose with water.
Frank looked utterly exhausted.
"Son," he whispered, "I'm sorry I caused trouble."
Luca knelt before him again.
"You didn't cause any trouble."
"But Vivienne said the dinner was important."
"Not more important than you."
Frank's eyes filled with tears.
Then he looked toward the empty kitchen doorway.
"There's something else you need to know."
Luca leaned closer.
"What is it, Dad?"
Frank swallowed.
"Matteo came to see me last Sunday."
"And?"
"He told me the restaurant was being sold."
Luca frowned.
"What restaurant?"
Frank's lower lip trembled.
"Your mother's restaurant."
I felt the room grow colder.
Everyone in the Moretti family knew about Rosa's Table, the little Italian restaurant where Frank had worked for years after Elena's death.
It had been closed for nearly a decade.
But Frank had refused every offer to sell it.
"He said he needed my signature," Frank continued.
"I told him that building belonged to your mother's memory."
Luca's expression hardened.
"What did Matteo say?"
Frank looked down at the guardianship papers.
"He told me that by Monday, it wouldn't matter what I wanted anymore."
May you like
Then he whispered something that made Luca stand perfectly still.
"Your brother said he had already found someone willing to buy my signature."
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