Chapter 2 - The Warning From Beyond the Grave|
I had never seen Luca Moretti look afraid.
I had seen him furious, disappointed, and so cold that grown men struggled to meet his eyes.
But as I stood in the upstairs hallway holding Sophia's trembling hand, I realized that the man downstairs was experiencing something far worse than anger.
He was discovering that his dead wife had left him a warning he had failed to understand.
"Claire, is Daddy mad at me?"
Sophia's small voice pulled me back to the present.
I knelt beside her bedroom door and gently brushed a strand of brown hair away from her tearstained cheek.
"No, sweetheart."
"Then why did he look like that?"
I searched for an answer that wouldn't frighten her.
"Because he just learned something important, and sometimes grown-ups need a moment to understand things."
Sophia looked down at her bare feet.
"Vanessa said Daddy would stop loving me if I kept talking about Mommy."
My heart twisted.
"Did she really say that?"
Sophia nodded.
"She said Daddy needed a new family, and I was making everything difficult."
I pulled her into my arms.
"Listen to me carefully, Sophia."
She pressed her cheek against my shoulder.
"Nothing you say about your mother could ever make your father stop loving you."
"But he married Vanessa."
"That doesn't mean he stopped loving you."
Sophia was quiet for several seconds.
Then she asked a question that nearly broke my heart.
"Can someone be my daddy and still believe somebody who hurts me?"
I couldn't answer immediately.
Because the truth was that Luca had been doing exactly that.
He had allowed Vanessa to explain away Sophia's tears, her sudden quietness, and her growing fear of being alone with her stepmother.
And I had watched it happen without understanding how much damage was being done.
Before I could speak, my phone vibrated.
A message from Luca appeared on the screen.
Stay with Sophia. Do not let Vanessa enter her room.
I locked the bedroom door.
Downstairs, Luca stood in the laundry room beneath the same overhead light where I had been sewing Isabella's dress.
The pink fabric lay across the table.
The silver key rested beside it.
And in Luca's hands was the letter that had changed everything.
He read Isabella's handwriting again.
My dearest Luca,
If you are reading this, then something has happened that I was afraid might happen long before you were ready to believe it.
I know you think Vanessa Bellini is my friend.
She is not.
I discovered that she has been taking money from the Second Stitch Foundation, and when I confronted her, she threatened to destroy everything I loved.
She told me that men like you always believe the woman who knows how to smile at the right moment.
I have reason to believe someone inside our home is helping her.
The silver key opens a cabinet in Room 314 at the North Halsted Studio.
Inside is the proof I could not safely keep here.
Please take it to someone you trust outside your organization.
And Luca, if Vanessa ever tries to make Sophia forget me, understand that it was never about being loved.
It was always about what Sophia would inherit.
Protect our little girl.
Love, Isabella.
Luca lowered the letter.
For two years, he had believed Isabella's death had been a terrible accident.
Her car had gone off a road near the Chicago River during a winter storm.
The police investigation had found no evidence of foul play.
At least, that was what Vincent DeLuca, Luca's trusted head of security, had told him.
Now Luca remembered something he had deliberately pushed out of his mind.
Three days before Isabella died, she had asked him to look into financial discrepancies at her foundation.
He had promised to help after an important meeting.
That meeting had taken place the afternoon she was killed.
A sound came from the hallway.
Vanessa stood in the doorway.
"Darling, you're not seriously going to believe a letter written by a woman who was clearly paranoid?"
Luca turned toward her.
"How did you know what the letter said?"
Vanessa hesitated.
"I heard you reading parts of it."
"I haven't read it aloud."
Her expression tightened.
"Luca, please."
"How much money did you take from Isabella's foundation?"
"Excuse me?"
"Answer the question."
Vanessa laughed nervously.
"You're accusing me of stealing because your daughter threw a tantrum over an old dress?"
Luca stepped toward her.
"That dress belonged to Isabella."
"And Isabella has been dead for two years."
The words struck the room like broken glass.
Luca's eyes darkened.
"Never speak about my daughter's mother that way again."
For the first time, Vanessa looked uncertain.
Then her expression softened into practiced concern.
"You're grieving, sweetheart."
Luca said nothing.
"Let me help you."
She reached toward the letter.
He moved it away.
"Did you cut Sophia's dress?"
Vanessa's lips parted.
"She needed discipline."
"Did you cut it?"
A long silence followed.
Finally, Vanessa whispered, "Yes."
Luca stared at her.
"Get out of this room."
"Luca—"
"Now."
Vanessa turned and walked away.
But when she reached the staircase, her expression changed.
She pulled out her phone and dialed a number from memory.
A man's voice answered.
"What happened?"
Vanessa lowered her voice.
"He found Isabella's letter."
The man went silent.
Then he asked, "Does he have the key?"
"Yes."
"Then we have a serious problem."
Vanessa looked toward the upstairs hallway.
"Adrian, tell me you emptied that cabinet."
May you like
Her older brother answered with four words that made her blood run cold.
"I never found it."
