TAKE THAT WATCH OFF HIM! SERVANTS DON’T WEAR FAMILY HEIRLOOMS AT MY TABLE!” THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 81-YEAR-OLD FORMER STEWARD DURING THE FAMILY’S FIFTIETH-ANNIVERSARY DINNER—BUT WHEN THE 27-YEAR-OLD HOUSEKEEPER READ THE ENGRAVING BENEATH THE GOLD COVER, MATTEO MORETTI SLOWLY FOLDED HIS NAPKIN

Chapter 4 – THE GRAVE ROBBER AND THE MISSING DAUGHTER

The silence in the grand foyer was deafening.

Matteo stared at the necklace on the marble floor. The heavy gold chain had a distinct ruby clasp—a piece custom-made for his mother in Milan.

It was supposed to be six feet under the family mausoleum.

Luca, the security chief, moved instantly. He blocked the exit, his hand resting on his holster.

Richard Vale stared at the necklace, his face turning an ashen gray.

“Where did you get that?” Matteo’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a deadly weight.

Celeste looked genuinely horrified. “Dad? What is that doing in your coat?”

“It’s a replica,” Richard stammered, stepping back. “I bought it at an antique auction in—”

“Don’t lie to me.” Matteo walked slowly toward him. He knelt and picked up the heavy gold piece. He turned it over.

There, etched into the gold beneath the ruby, were his mother’s initials: C.M.M.

Arthur walked up behind Matteo. The old steward’s breath hitched. “They opened her tomb.”

Matteo grabbed Richard by the throat and slammed him against the mahogany doors.

“Why?” Matteo roared, the polished CEO completely vanishing, revealing the ruthless boss beneath. “Why did you touch my mother’s grave?”

Richard gasped for air, his hands clawing at Matteo’s grip.

“It wasn’t for the gold!” Richard choked out. “It was for the ledger!”

Matteo dropped him. Richard collapsed coughing.

“What ledger?” Matteo demanded.

I watched Arthur’s face pale. The old man leaned heavily on a chair.

“Your father’s private ledger,” Richard wheezed. “He didn’t trust banks. He didn’t trust lawyers. When he died, the only safe place to hide his true accounts was in the coffin.”

Matteo looked at Arthur. “Is this true?”

Arthur nodded slowly. “Yes. Your father hid a list of assets. Properties, cash reserves, safe houses. Millions that the government—and your enemies—didn’t know about.”

“And you stole it,” Matteo said to Richard.

“I had to!” Richard shouted. “Leo told me where it was! Your brother gave me the location to pay off his gambling debts!”

The reversal stung. Leo, the exiled brother, hadn’t just forged a signature. He had sold out their mother’s grave.

“Where is Leo?” Matteo asked coldly.

“I don’t know,” Richard panicked. “He ran! But before he left, he gave me something else to hold as collateral.”

“What?”

Richard pointed a shaking finger at the velvet box on the floor.

Underneath the necklace’s velvet padding, a small, faded train ticket stuck out.

I bent down and pulled it out. It wasn’t a train ticket.

It was a birth certificate.

I read the name aloud. “Mia Moretti.”

Matteo froze. “My niece.”

Richard smiled a bloody, desperate smile. “Leo couldn’t pay the whole debt. So he left his six-year-old daughter with us. If you ruin me tonight, Matteo, you’ll never see that little girl again.”

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