Chapter 6 - THE GIRL BESIDE THE COFFIN|
Vanessa stared at Frank as though he had struck her.
"That's a lie."
Frank didn't move.
"I remember that briefcase."
Luca placed the photograph on the table.
"Then tell me what was inside it."
Vanessa folded her arms.
"I was sixteen years old."
"That wasn't my question."
"My father brought me because he didn't want to leave me home alone."
Frank gave a bitter laugh.
"Your father had three drivers and a housekeeper."
Vanessa's cheeks flushed.
"He was grieving."
"Over the death of a man he barely acknowledged when he was alive?"
Luca stepped closer.
"Vanessa, did you deliver documents to the detective handling the case?"
She looked toward the door.
"I don't remember."
"Then why did you say you'd never heard Daniel's name?"
"Because I knew exactly how you'd react."
She pointed toward Margaret.
"Look at this woman."
"She arrives at our Christmas dinner, and suddenly everyone thinks my family is involved in a murder."
Margaret stood.
"I didn't accuse anyone when I arrived."
Vanessa turned toward her.
"You brought an old photograph and a sob story into my home."
Margaret's voice became surprisingly steady.
"I brought an empty plate."
She looked at Frank.
"Your father-in-law invited my husband to this table long before you married into the family."
Vanessa's face twisted with anger.
"You're still a stranger."
"No," Frank replied.
"She's the widow of a man I owe my life to."
Then he looked at Vanessa.
"And if Daniel is alive, she's the wife of a man your father tried to erase."
Vanessa turned away.
"I won't stand here and be insulted."
She stormed out.
Luca watched her leave without following.
For the first time, I saw something break behind his eyes.
He had married Vanessa only six months earlier.
Their wedding had filled society pages across Chicago.
People called them the city's most powerful couple.
But standing in that small room, he looked like a man realizing he didn't know his own wife.
"Claire," he said quietly, "will you help Margaret find somewhere comfortable to rest?"
"Of course."
Margaret followed me upstairs.
But when we reached the guest bedroom, something was wrong.
My overnight bag was open.
I had left it beside the wardrobe before accompanying Margaret to St. Agnes.
Now my clothes were scattered across the bed.
A diamond brooch lay on top of my sweater.
I recognized it immediately.
Vanessa had worn it at the previous night's dinner.
"What is that doing here?" Margaret asked.
Before I could answer, Vanessa appeared in the doorway with Michael Russo.
"There it is."
She pointed at the brooch.
"I told you Claire stole it."
My stomach dropped.
"That's not mine."
Vanessa laughed.
"Of course it isn't."
She turned toward Michael.
"Call the police."
Margaret stepped between us.
"Someone has been through her belongings."
Vanessa ignored her.
"Claire has had access to every room in this mansion."
I looked at Michael.
"You know I didn't take that."
He hesitated.
"Miss Bennett, we need to establish how it got here."
Vanessa smiled.
"And until then, I don't want her anywhere near our family."
I felt the humiliation burning through my chest.
For four years, I had polished floors, washed dishes, carried trays, and cared for people who rarely remembered my birthday.
I had never stolen a single thing.
Now the woman who had insulted an elderly widow was accusing me of theft.
Luca arrived moments later.
Vanessa immediately moved beside him.
"Your maid stole my brooch."
I forced myself to speak.
"Mr. Moretti, someone planted it."
He looked at my open bag.
Then at Vanessa.
"Who entered this room while Claire was gone?"
Vanessa crossed her arms.
"How should I know?"
Michael cleared his throat.
"We can review the hallway recordings."
Vanessa's smile vanished.
"You're going to investigate your wife over a maid?"
Luca answered without raising his voice.
"I'm going to investigate whoever went through Claire's belongings."
For a moment, relief washed over me.
Then he looked at Michael.
"Until we know what happened, keep everyone involved away from the disputed evidence."
Vanessa stepped backward.
"You can't be serious."
Luca turned toward me.
"Claire, I don't believe this proves you stole anything."
He paused.
"But I need you to stay out of the family's private rooms while Michael investigates."
I knew he was trying to be fair.
Still, the words hurt.
Vanessa had turned my kindness into suspicion.
And I was the one being pushed aside.
Margaret took my hand.
"Then I'll stay with Claire."
Luca looked at her.
"Mrs. Sullivan, that's unnecessary."
"No."
Her voice was firm.
"Your maid was the only person who treated me like a human being when I entered this house."
She looked directly at Vanessa.
"If she's not welcome, neither am I."
Frank appeared at the end of the hallway.
He had heard everything.
"Claire stays," he said.
Nobody argued.
Later that afternoon, while Michael reviewed the recordings, I stepped into the garden for fresh air.
Snow lay thick across the stone walkway.
A delivery van stood beyond the side gate.
The driver approached quietly.
"Claire Bennett?"
I hesitated.
"Yes?"
He handed me a folded envelope.
"Someone asked me to give you this."
Before I could ask who, he returned to his van.
Inside the envelope was a photograph.
It showed me placing Margaret's chipped plate on the Christmas table.
On the back, someone had written:
YOU GAVE MY WIFE A PLACE WHEN THEY TRIED TO TURN HER AWAY.
My hands began trembling.
Underneath was a second sentence.
MEET ME BEHIND THE OLD BAKERY AT FOUR.
I looked toward the mansion.
May you like
Then I read the signature.
DANIEL SULLIVAN.
