Chapter 3 – The Stolen Heirloom

“Five years ago,” Luca repeated, his voice barely a whisper, though it filled the small, damp apartment with a terrifying weight.

I stared at the heavy silver bracelet resting in his palm.

Teresa had told me about that bracelet. It was a family heirloom, given to her by Luca’s late father on their tenth anniversary. When it went missing five years ago, it had torn the household apart. Two maids had been fired under suspicion of theft.

And all along, it had been Vanessa.

Vanessa had stolen it right out from under Teresa’s nose, kept it hidden for two years, and then used it to bribe a nurse to destroy a grieving mother.

“She has been poisoning my life since the day I met her,” Luca said, his fist closing around the silver bracelet so tightly I thought the metal might bend.

He didn’t look at Helen Davies again. He simply turned and walked out of the apartment.

I hurried after him, pulling the broken door shut.

When we got back into the SUV, the silence was deafening. The engine roared to life, but Luca didn’t immediately put it in drive. He just sat there, staring blankly through the rain-streaked windshield, his hands gripping the steering wheel.

I looked at the mafia boss. The man who ordered men around with a single look. Right now, he just looked like a father who had been robbed of the truth.

I reached out and gently placed my hand over his.

My knuckles were wrapped in a clean white handkerchief I had found in the glovebox to protect the burns, but my touch was steady.

Luca looked down at my hand. Then he looked at me.

“I spent three years hating Caroline,” he whispered, a tear finally escaping his dark eyes. “I cursed her name. I told my mother to stop speaking about her. And she was in the lobby. She was right downstairs, begging to see our little girl.”

“You didn’t know, Luca,” I said softly.

“I should have known,” he said bitterly. “I should have protected them both.”

He shifted the car into drive.

“We have to find Caroline,” he said, his voice hardening with resolve. “I have to apologize to her. And I need to bring her back so she can finally say goodbye to Sophie.”

I nodded, though a tiny, unexpected pang of jealousy fluttered in my chest.

I pushed it down immediately. I was the maid. I was helping a grieving family heal. That was all.

Luca made a phone call to Daniel as we drove.

“Trace the return address on the envelope Caroline sent the blue box in,” Luca ordered. “Find out where she’s living.”

Five minutes later, Daniel texted an address.

It was a small, inexpensive motel on the outskirts of the city, near the industrial train yards. Caroline wasn’t living a glamorous new life. She was hiding in the shadows of the city she used to rule alongside Luca.

The drive took thirty minutes.

We pulled into the flickering, neon-lit parking lot of the Starlight Motel. The rain was beginning to let up, leaving behind a thick, freezing fog.

“Room 114,” Luca said, reading the text message.

We walked along the exterior corridor on the first floor. The motel was quiet, smelling of cheap cigarettes and damp concrete.

We reached door 114.

Luca raised his fist to knock.

But the door was already cracked open an inch.

Luca froze. His mafia instincts instantly took over. He pushed me gently behind him, drawing a concealed black handgun from his shoulder holster in one fluid motion.

He kicked the door open with a solid thud.

He swept the room with his weapon, stepping inside.

I followed closely behind, my heart pounding in my throat.

The room was empty.

But it was completely destroyed.

The cheap mattress was flipped over. The lamps were smashed. Clothes were scattered across the dirty carpet.

Someone had tossed the room looking for something.

“Caroline?” Luca called out, lowering his weapon slightly.

Silence.

I walked toward the small bathroom. The door was open.

I flicked on the harsh fluorescent light.

I gasped, covering my mouth with both hands.

“Luca,” I choked out.

Luca rushed into the bathroom.

The mirror above the sink was shattered. But on the remaining shards of glass, written in bright red lipstick, was a message.

And on the white tile floor below the sink, there was a pool of fresh, dark blood.

“No,” Luca breathed, dropping to one knee beside the blood. He touched it. It was still warm.

“Answer one,” I thought, terror gripping my spine. Vanessa’s people had found Caroline.

“Open two.” Was she dead? Or had they taken her?

I backed out of the bathroom, my eyes scanning the destroyed bedroom.

“Mr. Moretti—Luca,” I said, pointing to the corner of the room.

Lying half-hidden beneath the overturned mattress was a small piece of heavy cardstock.

I picked it up.

It was a train ticket.

Midnight Express to Chicago. Departure: 11:30 PM.

I looked at the clock on the bedside table.

It was 11:15 PM.

“She’s trying to run,” I said, handing the ticket to Luca. “She bought a ticket to Chicago. They must have ambushed her while she was packing, but she fought them off.”

Luca looked at the blood on his fingers, then at the ticket.

“If she fought them off, she’s injured,” Luca said, his eyes darkening with absolute, lethal determination. “And Vanessa’s men will be hunting her at the station.”

He grabbed my hand.

“We have fifteen minutes.”