Chapter 3 – THE BABY BLANKET

The heavy click of the shotgun echoed in the small, ruined cottage.

Vanessa screamed, diving behind the overturned sofa. The two men in dark jackets raised their hands, backing slowly toward the kitchen.

“Rosie, wait,” Luca said gently, keeping his own weapon pointed at the floor so he wouldn’t frighten her. “It’s me. It’s Luca.”

Rosie blinked, the heavy shotgun wavering in her frail arms. She looked at Luca’s face, tracing the lines of his jaw with her eyes.

“Luca?” she whispered. “Little Luca? Oh, my goodness, how you’ve grown. Where is your father?”

“My father is gone, Rosie,” Luca said softly, stepping closer. “He passed away a long time ago. Can you give me the gun?”

Tears instantly pooled in Rosie’s eyes. “Gone? But he just gave me the box. He said to hide it under the floorboards.”

She lowered the shotgun slightly, her confusion masking her grief. Luca gently took the weapon from her hands and engaged the safety. He handed it to me. It was shockingly heavy.

“Where is Walter?” Luca asked again.

“The nice man in the suit took him to get ice cream,” Rosie smiled vaguely. “He said Walter needed a treat.”

My blood ran cold. Daniel. The head of security had intercepted Walter, keeping him away from the cottage so Vanessa’s men could tear it apart.

Luca realized it at the same moment. His jaw clenched in fury.

He turned to the two men. “Get out of my sight before I kill you both.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. They scrambled out the back door, leaving Vanessa cowering behind the slashed sofa.

Luca ignored her. He walked over to the section of the floor the men had been prying apart near the fireplace. He kicked away the splintered wood.

Beneath the dust and insulation was a small, oxidized copper lockbox.

Vanessa peeked over the sofa, her eyes wide with desperation. “That’s it! Luca, my father needs that! Salvatore stole from us!”

Luca knelt down. He picked up the rusted iron key Vanessa had dropped and slid it into the lockbox. It turned with a harsh screech.

He opened the lid.

Inside, there was no money. There were no mafia ledgers or blackmail tapes.

There was only a faded, hand-knit pink baby blanket.

And folded neatly on top of it was a birth certificate.

Luca stared at the documents, his brow furrowing in deep confusion. He picked up the birth certificate and read the name aloud.

“Elena Rossi.”

He looked up at Vanessa. “Who is Elena Rossi?”

Vanessa slowly stood up, brushing the dirt from her silk gown. Her desperation vanished, replaced by a cruel, venomous smile.

“She was my father’s sister,” Vanessa sneered. “The sister my father spent thirty years looking for, after your father supposedly ‘dealt with her’ to keep the syndicates from going to war.”

Luca shook his head. “My father wasn’t a killer.”

“No,” Vanessa laughed bitterly. “He was a thief. He didn’t kill my aunt. He hid her. He took her baby, paid off a foster family, and hid the truth.”

I stood holding the heavy shotgun, my breath catching in my throat.

Elena.

My mother’s name was Elena.

I took a slow step forward. “My… my mother’s name is Elena.”

Vanessa turned to look at me, her eyes narrowing. She looked at my face, really looked at me, taking in my cheekbones and my eyes.

“Well, well,” Vanessa whispered. “Answer One, Open Two.”

She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at me.

“You aren’t just a maid, Hannah. You’re the missing Bellini heir. Which means your mother owns half of the Moretti estate.”

Vanessa pulled a small silver lighter from her clutch.

“And my father will burn this entire city to the ground before he lets a maid take his inheritance.”

She flicked the lighter open, dropped it onto the gasoline-soaked curtains her men had prepared, and bolted for the door.

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