Chapter 3 – THE NAME ON THE BRACELET

“What does it say?”

Luca’s voice was sharp, cutting through the heavy silence of the library.

I couldn’t speak.

My fingers rubbed the cheap plastic of the hospital bracelet, tracing the printed letters over and over, hoping I had misread them.

But I hadn’t.

Margaret Collins.

Admitted: October 29th.

That was yesterday.

Yesterday, my mother had been taken to the emergency room after complaining of severe stomach pains.

The doctors had told me it was a complication from her hip surgery medication.

I had been so terrified of losing my job—so desperate for Vanessa’s approval—that I had only visited my mother for thirty minutes on my lunch break.

“Hannah.”

Luca was standing now. He took a step toward me.

“What is it?”

I looked up at him, my vision blurring with tears.

“This is my mother’s hospital bracelet,” I whispered.

Teresa gasped from her wheelchair.

Luca frowned, looking deeply confused.

“Why would Isabella give my daughter your mother’s hospital bracelet?”

My mind raced.

I thought about my mother.

Before her hip gave out, she had been a private trauma nurse.

She was the kind of woman who never asked questions, never broke confidentiality, and never turned away someone in pain.

For the last three years, she had insisted on keeping our tiny basement apartment securely locked.

She told me she was renting it out to a quiet woman who worked night shifts.

I had never met the tenant.

I had never even seen her face.

My mother always handled the rent, always brought the groceries down herself, always told me to respect the woman’s privacy.

“Oh my God,” I breathed, the realization hitting me so hard my knees weakened.

Before I could explain, the library doors flew open.

Vanessa stood in the doorway.

She had changed out of her wet red gown and was wearing a sharp, black designer suit.

Four massive security guards stood behind her.

“Remove them,” Vanessa ordered, pointing a manicured finger at me and Lily.

Luca stepped in front of us instantly.

“If any of you take one step into this room, I will break your legs,” Luca said.

The guards hesitated.

They looked at Luca, the boss they feared, and then at Vanessa, the woman who signed their paychecks.

Vanessa smiled coldly.

She reached into her designer pocket and pulled out a heavy, intricate gold key.

It was the key to the main estate vault.

“You don’t give orders anymore, Luca,” Vanessa sneered. “Did you really think I wouldn’t prepare for a moment like this?”

Luca stared at the key.

“Where did you get that?”

Vanessa walked slowly into the room, tapping the key against her palm.

“Your father was a very smart man,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “He knew you were soft. He knew you would always choose your precious emotions over the family empire.”

Teresa gripped the armrests of her wheelchair.

“You leave my husband out of this!”

Vanessa laughed.

“Your husband gave me this key, Teresa. Before he died, he drafted a secret contingency in his will. The estate, the accounts, the properties—they don’t belong to Luca.”

The room fell dead silent.

Vanessa’s smile widened into something truly ugly.

“They belong to me,” she whispered. “Unless Luca legally marries me before his thirty-seventh birthday. Which happens to be tomorrow at midnight.”

Luca didn’t flinch.

He didn’t look at the guards, and he didn’t look at the gold key.

He looked at Lily, who was hiding behind my legs, trembling in fear.

“Keep it,” Luca said simply.

Vanessa’s smile vanished.

“What?”

“Keep the money. Keep the house. Keep the empire,” Luca said, his voice completely steady. “I have my daughter. I don’t need anything else.”

Vanessa’s face turned bright red.

She hadn’t expected this. She had expected him to beg. To fight. To compromise.

“You’re a fool!” she shrieked, losing her composure. “You’ll be left with nothing! Throw them out! Throw all of them out into the street!”

The guards finally moved forward.

But before they could touch us, a heavy, commanding voice echoed from the hallway.

“They aren’t going anywhere.”

Everyone turned.

Standing in the doorway, dripping wet in a leather jacket, was Michael.

Luca’s estranged younger brother.

He looked older, tired, and deeply haunted.

But in his hands, he was holding something that made Vanessa take a horrified step backward.

It was a piece of white lace.

Dirty, torn, and stained with dried blood.

A wedding veil.

Michael threw the veil onto the floor at Vanessa’s feet.

“He doesn’t have to marry you, Vanessa,” Michael said, his voice echoing like thunder. “Because his wife is still alive. And you’re the one who put her in my trunk.”