Chapter 3 - THE APARTMENT VANESSA WANTED EMPTY|
I had never seen Luca Moretti look frightened before.
Angry, yes.
Cold, certainly.
But frightened?
Never.
Yet when Eleanor explained that Matthew had hidden something in the original restaurant lease, Luca's expression changed.
He looked toward Olivia.
Then toward little Emma.
And finally toward Vanessa.
“Who has the keys to Matthew's apartment?”
Olivia slowly lifted her head.
“I do.”
Vanessa immediately interrupted.
“Not anymore.”
The room went silent.
Luca turned.
“What?”
Vanessa's cheeks reddened.
“I arranged for the locks to be changed.”
Olivia stared at her.
“You what?”
“It was for security.”
“My husband and I lived there.”
“I know.”
“His clothes are still there.”
Vanessa looked away.
Olivia's voice broke.
“His wedding ring is in the bedroom.”
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Luca spoke.
“When did you change the locks?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“Last Tuesday.”
Olivia shook her head.
“But you told me the apartment wasn't safe.”
“It wasn't.”
“Why?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“There were maintenance concerns.”
Luca looked directly at her.
“What maintenance concerns?”
“I don't remember the details.”
“Then who ordered the work?”
“The property manager.”
“Which property manager?”
Vanessa's eyes shifted toward the doorway.
“I'll have to check.”
Luca stepped closer.
“You seem to have an extraordinary amount of trouble remembering things tonight.”
Her lips tightened.
“I'm tired, Luca.”
“So is Olivia.”
He looked toward his sister.
“But she's the one holding a six-week-old baby while learning you've interfered with her home, her family, and her husband's business.”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“You're making me sound terrible.”
Nobody answered.
That silence told her more than any argument could have.
I stood beside Olivia, holding the empty tea cup she'd finally managed to finish.
Her face was still pale.
But the fear in her eyes was slowly giving way to something else.
Anger.
It was the first time I'd seen her look truly angry since Matthew's death.
“Vanessa,” she whispered, “did you go through my things?”
Vanessa blinked.
“Of course not.”
Olivia stared at her.
“Then how did you know which boxes I wanted to keep?”
“What?”
“You sent me a list of furniture I could take when I moved.”
“Yes.”
“You listed Matthew's blue armchair.”
Vanessa said nothing.
Olivia's voice trembled.
“That chair is inside our apartment.”
“Olivia—”
“You listed Emma's crib.”
“I'm sure someone mentioned it.”
“You listed the picture Matthew kept on his nightstand.”
Vanessa went still.
Olivia began crying.
“You've been inside my home.”
Luca looked toward Marco, who had returned from making several calls.
“Find out who changed those locks.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And whether anyone entered the apartment without Olivia's authorization.”
Marco nodded.
Vanessa looked furious.
“This is completely unnecessary.”
Luca turned.
“Then you should have no objection to us finding out.”
She reached for her handbag.
“I refuse to stand here being interrogated.”
Luca moved aside.
“Then don't.”
Vanessa froze.
For a moment, she seemed to expect him to apologize.
He didn't.
She glanced toward the door.
Then toward her diamond engagement ring.
“You're really choosing them over me?”
Luca looked at Olivia.
His sister sat beside Eleanor, cradling Emma against her chest.
Then he looked back at Vanessa.
“I'm choosing to protect my family.”
Vanessa's face hardened.
“I was supposed to become your family.”
Luca didn't answer immediately.
Then he said something that made my chest tighten.
“You were supposed to love the people I already had.”
Vanessa stared at him.
And for the first time, she seemed to have no reply.
She walked toward the foyer.
Marco quietly followed at a distance.
I turned toward Olivia.
“Would you like me to bring Emma's things upstairs?”
She nodded.
“Please.”
Her voice was exhausted.
I helped her stand.
Eleanor offered to carry the diaper bag.
And Luca walked beside his sister as we made our way toward the private elevator.
The nursery occupied a beautiful corner suite overlooking the gardens.
Luca had decorated it in soft cream and pale yellow.
There was an expensive rocking chair beside the window.
A crib carved from white oak.
A changing table filled with neatly folded blankets.
Everything a baby could possibly need.
Except the one thing Olivia had been denied.
Peace.
When we entered, she sat down in the rocking chair and began crying again.
Eleanor took Emma gently while Olivia adjusted the pillows.
Luca stood near the doorway.
“Olivia?”
She looked up.
“I'm sorry I didn't tell you.”
He frowned.
“Tell me what?”
“That Vanessa was making things difficult.”
His face softened.
“Why didn't you?”
Olivia looked down.
“Because I thought you loved her.”
“I did.”
“And I didn't want you to lose someone else because of me.”
Luca stared at her.
The words seemed to hurt him physically.
“You thought I'd blame you?”
She didn't answer.
He crouched beside her.
“Sweetheart, Matthew's death wasn't your fault.”
Her eyes filled.
“I know.”
“And none of this is your fault either.”
She shook her head.
“Vanessa said I was using my grief to keep you from moving forward.”
Luca closed his eyes.
Then he gently took her hand.
“Olivia, you could live here for the next twenty years, and you'd still be welcome.”
She gave a weak laugh.
“Emma might be in college by then.”
“Then she'd have the best college dormitory in Chicago.”
Olivia smiled through her tears.
It was small.
But real.
Eleanor returned Emma to her mother.
The baby settled almost immediately.
Watching them, I remembered why I'd given Olivia my cardigan downstairs.
She hadn't needed anyone to solve her entire life.
She'd needed one person to notice she was struggling.
Sometimes the smallest kindness exposed the largest cruelty.
Luca looked toward me.
“Claire, have you eaten?”
I blinked.
“Sir?”
“Dinner.”
I shook my head.
“Not yet.”
He frowned.
“Why not?”
“I was serving.”
“Then please eat.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He hesitated.
“And Claire?”
“Yes?”
“You did the right thing tonight.”
My throat tightened.
I thought about my mother waiting at home.
About her rent.
About Vanessa's threat to fire me.
And about how close I'd come to staying silent.
“Thank you, Mr. Moretti.”
He shook his head.
“No.”
“Thank you.”
I left the nursery with tears in my eyes.
But as I reached the servants' staircase, I heard voices from the corridor below.
Vanessa.
And a man.
I stopped.
“Adrian, you need to answer me.”
My heart began pounding.
She was speaking into her phone.
“I don't care what the accountant told you.”
A pause.
Then her voice sharpened.
“Luca knows about the lease.”
I gripped the railing.
Another pause followed.
Then Vanessa whispered something that made my stomach turn.
“No, you idiot, he hasn't found the second copy.”
I barely breathed.
She continued.
“The first one is in Matthew's apartment.”
The man on the phone said something I couldn't hear.
Vanessa's voice rose.
“Then get there before Luca does.”
I stepped backward.
My shoe touched the edge of a loose stair.
It creaked.
Vanessa stopped speaking.
“Who's there?”
I froze.
Footsteps approached.
I looked around desperately.
The hallway offered nowhere to hide.
Then a door opened behind me.
An older housekeeper named Mrs. Donnelly appeared.
She took one look at my face.
Then silently pulled me into the linen room.
The door closed just as Vanessa reached the landing.
I held my breath.
“Claire?”
Her voice was sharp.
“Are you up here?”
Neither of us answered.
Vanessa waited.
Then I heard her heels moving away.
Mrs. Donnelly turned toward me.
“What happened?”
I whispered everything.
Her expression changed.
“Adrian is going to the apartment?”
I nodded.
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
She thought for a moment.
Then reached for her own phone.
“Tell Mr. Moretti immediately.”
I hesitated.
“Vanessa will know I heard her.”
Mrs. Donnelly looked at me.
“Claire, there's a young mother upstairs whose husband may have left something important behind.”
She placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
“And there is a six-week-old baby who deserves to grow up knowing the truth about her father.”
I swallowed.
She continued.
“Sometimes keeping a job isn't worth keeping a secret.”
I thought about my mother.
About the money we needed.
Then about Olivia's face when Vanessa told her she had to leave.
I straightened.
“You're right.”
We hurried toward Luca's office.
But before we reached it, Marco appeared at the end of the hall.
He was holding his phone.
His expression was grim.
“Claire, Mr. Moretti needs to see you.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
Marco glanced toward the staircase.
“Someone broke into Matthew's apartment twenty minutes ago.”
I stopped breathing.
“Was anything taken?”
“We don't know.”
“Did they catch anyone?”
Marco shook his head.
“But the building's security camera recorded a vehicle leaving.”
My heart pounded.
“Whose vehicle?”
He hesitated.
Then answered.
“Adrian Bellini's.”
I covered my mouth.
Marco continued.
“There's something else.”
“What?”
“Mr. Moretti's attorney reviewed the business filings.”
I stared at him.
“And?”
His expression darkened.
“Someone submitted documents transferring Matthew's restaurant shares two weeks after his funeral.”
My knees weakened.
“Who signed them?”
Marco looked directly at me.
“Olivia.”
I stared at him.
“That isn't possible.”
He nodded.
“Mrs. Moretti says the same thing.”
Then he delivered the words that made my blood run cold.
“Claire, the signature was supposedly witnessed by Vanessa Bellini.”
May you like
And the transfer wasn't made to Matthew's daughter.
It gave controlling interest to Adrian Bellini.
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