Chapter 2 – THE PHOTOGRAPH INSIDE THE POCKET WATCH

I couldn’t breathe.

The photograph blurred in my vision. David, the man who had promised to build a life with me, the man who had kissed our three-year-old daughter on the forehead and vanished into the night.

He was smiling in the picture. And Vanessa was wearing the exact same diamond earrings she had on right now.

“You knew him,” I choked out.

Vanessa backed up against the mahogany banister. The guests were murmuring, some standing up, sensing the shift in the room. The mafia alliance was dissolving before their eyes.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Vanessa stammered, her eyes darting toward her father, who was watching with cold, furious eyes.

“Explain,” Luca demanded.

“He worked for me!” Vanessa cried out. “Four years ago. Before I met you, Luca! My family hired him as a driver. We had a brief… indiscretion. It meant nothing!”

“A driver?” I asked, my voice rising. “David was a mechanic. He never drove for anyone.”

Luca looked at the picture again. “When was this taken, Vanessa?”

“I don’t remember! Four, five years ago!”

“The watch,” I interrupted, stepping forward. I didn’t care that these were dangerous people. I didn’t care about my job anymore. “He’s wearing the watch in the picture. But the casing isn’t dented.”

Luca looked at me, following my logic instantly.

“When did the watch get dented, Claire?” he asked quietly.

“Two months before he left us,” I said. “He dropped it in the garage. He was so upset about it.”

The room went dead silent.

If the watch was dented right before David disappeared, and the watch wasn’t dented in the photograph…

“This picture was taken before he left,” Luca said, his dark eyes locking onto Vanessa. “You didn’t just have an affair with him. You knew him while he was still with his family.”

Vanessa’s father, a terrifying man named Carlo Bellini, finally stepped forward.

“Enough,” Carlo barked. “Luca, this is a private matter. We will discuss it in your office. The girl takes her cake and leaves.”

“The girl stays,” Luca said, his voice like cracking ice. “Marco. Take Claire to my car.”

“Sir?” Marco asked, surprised.

“I’m driving her home,” Luca said, slipping the pocket watch and the photo into his suit jacket. “I want a security detail following us. Nobody leaves this house until I return. If Vanessa tries to walk out that door, break her legs.”

Vanessa let out a muffled scream.

Five minutes later, I was sitting in the passenger seat of Luca Moretti’s armored SUV. The little blue lunchbox was gripped tightly in my lap.

Luca drove in silence through the dark city streets. The rain had started to fall, smearing the neon lights of the storefronts.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, staring out the window. “I ruined your life.”

“You saved my life,” Luca corrected smoothly, his hands gripping the leather steering wheel. “I never trusted her. The marriage was a business arrangement to merge our territories. But the Bellini family has been stealing from my ports for months. I needed proof. I think your husband might be the key to it.”

I swallowed hard. “David wasn’t a criminal. He was just a mechanic.”

Luca glanced at me, his eyes softening just a fraction. “Good men do desperate things when they can’t feed their children, Claire. You of all people should know that.”

We pulled up to my rundown apartment building. The streetlights flickered, casting long shadows over the cracked sidewalk.

“Wait here,” Luca said.

He got out first, his hand resting casually inside his jacket where I knew he carried a weapon. He escorted me up the three flights of concrete stairs to my door.

I reached into my pocket for my keys.

But I didn’t need them.

The deadbolt was scratched. The door was hanging open by a single inch.

My heart stopped.

“Lily!” I screamed, pushing the door open.

The apartment was dark. The living room had been torn apart. Cushions were slashed, the television was shattered on the floor, and my few bookshelves were emptied.

Luca pushed past me, his gun drawn. He cleared the kitchen, the bathroom, and then kicked open my bedroom door.

“Lily!” I sobbed, running in behind him.

The bed was empty. Her blankets were thrown on the floor.

I dropped to my knees, screaming her name.

Luca grabbed my shoulders, pulling me up. “Claire, look.”

He pointed to the small closet in the corner of the room. The door was cracked open.

A tiny hand reached out from the darkness.

“Mommy?” Lily’s voice trembled.

I rushed forward and pulled her into my arms. She was perfectly safe, completely unharmed, clutching her stuffed rabbit.

“I’m here, baby,” I cried, kissing her face over and over. “I’m here. What happened? Who was here?”

Lily looked over my shoulder at Luca, her eyes wide with fear.

“It was a man,” Lily whispered. “He came in through the window. He was looking for something.”

“What was he looking for, sweetheart?” Luca asked gently, putting his gun away and crouching down to her eye level.

Lily pointed to the kitchen.

“The heavy coat,” she said.

I frowned. “What coat?”

Luca stood up and walked back into the ruined kitchen. I carried Lily and followed him.

Draped over the only unbroken dining chair was a thick, black wool winter coat.

I recognized it immediately.

It was David’s coat. The one he had left hanging by the door four years ago.

But someone had taken a knife and sliced the lining of the coat completely open.

And tucked into the ripped fabric was a faded yellow train ticket.