Chapter 3 – THE SILVER MIRROR

“Step away from the mirror.”

Vanessa’s voice was a venomous whisper. She closed the bedroom door behind her, the heavy click of the lock sounding like a gunshot in the quiet room.

She stood in her shimmering red gown, a silver lighter clutched in her manicured hand.

I backed away, my hands raised.

“I was just doing what Mr. Moretti asked,” I stammered, my heart hammering against my ribs. “He told me to pack your bags.”

Vanessa laughed. It was a dry, hollow sound.

“Luca thinks he can dismiss me over a stray cat and a whining child. He forgets who I am.”

She walked slowly toward the center of the room, her eyes locked on the silver hand mirror resting on the floor.

Elena Moretti’s mirror.

“You know what this is, don’t you, Rachel?” she asked, her voice dangerously calm.

“It belonged to Emma’s mother,” I whispered.

“Exactly. Luca searched for it for months after she died. He wanted to bury it with her. But he couldn’t find it.”

She knelt and picked it up, admiring the intricate silver handle.

“Because I took it.”

My stomach turned. “You didn’t even know Mr. Moretti five years ago.”

Vanessa smiled, a cold, terrifying curve of her lips.

“Oh, sweet, naive Rachel. You think I met Luca by chance at a charity gala? You think my integration into this family was an accident?”

She walked over to the marble fireplace.

“Elena was a weak woman,” Vanessa continued, tossing the priceless heirloom onto the mantle. “She didn’t know how to run a family like this. She made Luca soft. And now, that little brat downstairs is doing the exact same thing.”

“Emma is his daughter,” I said, my protective instincts flaring despite my fear.

“Emma is a liability!” Vanessa snapped. “Luca is a boss. He needs an heir, not a bleeding heart who cries over kittens!”

I looked at the lighter in her hand.

“Why are you holding that?” I asked, my voice trembling.

Vanessa looked down at the silver lighter. She flicked it open. A small blue flame danced in the dim room.

“Because, Rachel, there is a document hidden in this room. A document Marco left behind before I forced him out. If Luca sees it, I don’t just lose the engagement. I lose my life.”

She walked toward her massive oak desk.

“But I can’t burn it myself,” she smiled. “Because Luca’s men are already coming up the stairs. I can hear them.”

She was right. Heavy footsteps were echoing down the hallway.

Vanessa grabbed a thick manila envelope from the desk drawer.

She shoved it into my hands.

“Burn it in the fireplace. Now.”

“No,” I said, backing away. “I won’t cover for you.”

Vanessa’s eyes narrowed.

“You send four hundred dollars home every Friday to a woman named Sarah Morgan. She lives in a first-floor apartment on the South Side. If you don’t burn this envelope, my men will pay her a visit tonight. And they won’t bring flowers.”

The breath left my lungs.

She knew about my mother.

A heavy fist pounded on the bedroom door.

“Miss Bellini! Open the door. Mr. Moretti’s orders.” It was one of Luca’s armed guards.

“Burn it, Rachel,” Vanessa hissed. “Or your mother dies.”

My hands shook violently. I looked at the envelope. I looked at the fireplace.

I didn’t have a choice.

I threw the envelope into the cold hearth, grabbed a box of matches from the mantle, and struck one.

I dropped it onto the paper just as the bedroom door crashed open.

Luca walked in, his face a mask of absolute fury.

He saw the flames erupting in the fireplace. He saw me kneeling in front of it.

“Rachel?” he demanded, confused. “What are you doing?”

Vanessa instantly burst into tears.

It was an Oscar-worthy performance. She collapsed onto her knees, covering her face.

“Luca, thank God you’re here!” she sobbed, pointing a shaking finger at me. “I caught her trying to steal Elena’s mirror! When I stopped her, she tried to burn my bank statements to distract me!”

Luca froze.

He looked at the silver mirror sitting on the mantle.

The color drained from his face.

“Where did you get that?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“She had it in her pocket, Luca!” Vanessa cried. “She must have stolen it years ago!”

Luca turned to me.

His eyes, which had looked at me with gratitude just ten minutes ago, were now filled with absolute betrayal.

“Rachel,” he said quietly. “Tell me she’s lying.”

I opened my mouth to speak. I wanted to scream the truth.

But I saw Vanessa tap the side of her phone. A silent threat against my mother.

I looked down at the floor, tears hot and bitter in my eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Moretti,” I whispered.

Luca stared at me for a long, agonizing moment.

“Get out of my house,” he said, his voice completely dead. “Before I have you thrown in the river.”

I stood up, my legs trembling, and walked out the door.

Vanessa had won. She had saved herself and eliminated me in one move.

I walked down the grand staircase, stripped of my job, my dignity, and the only protection I had.

But as I reached the foyer, I realized something.

When I threw the envelope into the fire, it hadn’t burned completely.

The thick paper had caught on a metal grate.

And before I dropped the match, I had seen a single name printed on the top document.

It wasn’t Marco’s name.

It was the name of the animal rescue Vanessa claimed she had called.