Chapter 2 - THE RIBBON IN THE GLASS
|
The crystal chandelier above the ballroom trembled faintly as Luca Moretti stepped forward.
His polished black shoes made no sound against the white Italian marble.
His broad shoulders blocked the glow of the wall sconces behind him.
He stopped less than two feet from where I was kneeling beside Sophie’s small velvet footstool.
The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees in a single second.
Twenty-eight guests sat frozen around the banquet table, holding forks and crystal flutes mid-air.
Nobody dared to breathe.
Luca’s dark eyes moved from Vanessa’s outstretched hand down to my trembling fingers.
Then his gaze dropped to his daughter’s foot.
The delicate pink satin shoe was halfway unlaced in my palm.
Beneath the thin white tights, Sophie’s ankle was clearly swollen to twice its normal size.
A deep, angry violet bruise was spreading along the outer bone.
Sophie whimpered softly, pulling her white tulle skirt tighter around her trembling knees.
“Why is my daughter crying, Vanessa?” Luca asked.
His voice was quiet, dangerously calm, and laced with absolute authority.
Vanessa didn't back down; she raised her chin, adjusting the strap of her crimson silk gown.
“I told you, Luca, she twisted her ankle running down the grand staircase before dinner.”
“She was being reckless, as usual.”
“I merely asked Claire to lace her slipper back up so she could finish the recital we promised the senator.”
Luca didn't look at Vanessa.
He knelt down on one knee right beside me, completely ignoring the dust on the marble floor.
He was a man who commanded an empire of hundreds of millions, yet he touched his daughter’s ankle with breathtaking gentleness.
Sophie flinched, biting her lower lip to keep from screaming.
“Did you twist it on the stairs, Sophie?” Luca asked softly.
The eleven-year-old girl looked toward Vanessa, and sheer terror flashed through her wide hazel eyes.
She clamped her small mouth shut and shook her head in small, terrified jerks.
“Sophie,” Luca said, his voice dropping lower.
“Look at me.”
The little girl slowly met her father’s intense gaze.
“Did you fall on the stairs?”
Before Sophie could speak, Vanessa took a sharp step closer, her diamond bracelets clinking against her wrist.
“Luca, don't interrogate the poor child in front of everyone.”
“She’s embarrassed because she ruined her entrance.”
“Claire, put the shoe back on and take her to the foyer.”
I looked up at Vanessa, my hands shaking around the satin ribbons.
“Miss Vanessa, she can’t stand on this foot.”
“If she puts weight on it, the ligament could tear completely.”
Vanessa’s eyes turned cold as slate.
“You are a maid in this household, Claire, not an orthopedic surgeon.”
“Do what you are told, or pack your uniform tonight.”
The room fell into an unbearable, suffocating silence.
Luca stood up slowly, rising to his full height of six-foot-three.
He turned his head toward Vanessa, his jaw locked like granite.
“Did I ask you to speak, Vanessa?”
Vanessa’s confident smile faltered for the briefest fraction of a second.
“Luca, I’m only trying to save the evening.”
“My father and the commissioner are sitting right there.”
Luca reached out, taking the glass of champagne directly from Vanessa’s manicured hand.
He held the slender flute up to the chandelier light, examining the amber liquid.
Then, without looking away from her eyes, he tilted his fingers.
The vintage champagne poured out in a steady golden stream, splashing over the front of Vanessa’s red designer dress.
Vanessa gasped, leaping backward in horror.
“Luca! Are you out of your mind?!”
Luca dropped the empty glass onto the marble floor.
It shattered into a hundred sparkling shards right between her high heels.
“Claire,” Luca said, not taking his eyes off his fiancée.
“Take off the other slipper.”
“Yes, sir,” I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I reached for Sophie’s left foot and gently loosened the satin knot.
As the pink ballet slipper slid free from her heel, something small and metallic slipped out from inside the toe box.
It fell against the gold-leaf trim of the footstool with a sharp, heavy clink.
It was a bent, blood-stained steel sewing needle.
Sophie let out a muffled sob and buried her face into my shoulder.
Luca went completely motionless.
The entire dining hall seemed to stop spinning.
Luca bent down, picked up the bloody needle between his thumb and forefinger, and held it up before the room.
May you like
“Who prepared Sophie’s ballet slippers tonight?” Luca whispered.
Vanessa stepped back, her face suddenly turning as pale as ash.
