LET HER CARRY IT! SHE’S NOT HELPLESS, AND I’M NOT PAYING YOUR MAID TO BABY AN OLD WOMAN!” THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 25-YEAR-OLD HOUSEKEEPER FOR TRYING TO TAKE A HEAVY SILVER COFFEE POT FROM HIS 78-YEAR-OLD MOTHER—BUT WHEN TERESA MORETTI GRABBED THE MAID’S HAND AND WHISPERED,

Chapter 2 – THE SECRET IN THE ROSARY

The crystal chandeliers seemed to dim.

Luca dropped the crumpled paper onto the table. “My father left this house to our family trust. It cannot be transferred.”

“It can,” Arthur Bellini said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “If the primary beneficiary—your mother—is deemed medically unfit and signs it over to her proxy to cover her long-term medical debts.”

“She has no medical debts!” Luca roared.

“She does now,” Vanessa said, her voice regaining its cold edge. “The facility we booked for her costs forty thousand dollars a month, Luca. And the contract is for ten years, paid upfront.”

My stomach churned. They had trapped her. They had manufactured a medical crisis, manipulated an old woman into signing away her rights, and used the fabricated debt to steal the Moretti family home.

Teresa suddenly grabbed my hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong.

“Hannah,” she whispered, her voice urgent. “My room. The top drawer.”

I knelt beside her. “What is it, Mrs. Moretti?”

“My rosary,” she choked out. “My husband’s wooden rosary. Go get it.”

Vanessa scoffed. “Oh, please. We don’t need religious theatrics right now.”

Luca blocked Vanessa’s path. He didn’t even look at her; his eyes were locked on his mother. “Go, Hannah.”

I ran.

I sprinted up the grand sweeping staircase, my cheap uniform shoes slipping on the marble. I pushed open the door to Teresa’s bedroom. It was a beautiful, modest room at the end of the hall, filled with memories of a forty-year marriage.

I went straight to the antique oak dresser. I pulled open the top drawer.

Inside, sitting on a velvet pad, was a simple, worn wooden rosary. I grabbed it. As I lifted it, I noticed something strange. The wooden cross at the bottom was unusually thick, and there was a tiny brass hinge on the side.

I didn’t have time to examine it. I ran back downstairs.

When I reached the dining room, the guests were whispering furiously. Arthur Bellini was packing his briefcase. Luca was standing inches from Vanessa’s face.

“The wedding is off,” Luca was saying, his voice like ice. “And if you or your father ever step foot on this property again, I will have you arrested for trespassing.”

“You can’t kick us out, Luca,” Vanessa smiled coldly. “Technically, we own the property now.”

I pushed through the crowd and pressed the wooden rosary into Teresa’s trembling hands.

Teresa looked at Luca. “Your father knew, sweetheart.”

Luca turned. “Knew what, Mom?”

“He knew Arthur Bellini was a snake.” Teresa’s thumbs fumbled with the tiny brass hinge on the wooden cross. “He knew Arthur would try to steal the company, the house, everything, the moment he passed away.”

The tiny wooden cross popped open.

Inside was a small, tightly rolled piece of microfilm and a tiny gold key.

Arthur Bellini’s smug expression vanished. He took a step backward.

“What is that?” Vanessa demanded.

Teresa handed the key to Luca. “Your father didn’t leave the house to the family trust, Luca. He left it to me. But he put a condition in the actual will. A condition Arthur spent five years trying to find.”

Luca stared at the tiny gold key. “Where does this go, Mom?”

Teresa looked up, her eyes finally clear and strong.

“It opens the safety deposit box at the First National Bank,” she said. “The one containing the real medical power of attorney. The one that says if I am ever deemed incompetent, all my assets immediately revert to charity, bypassing everyone. Including you, Luca.”

The room gasped.

If the assets reverted to charity, Arthur Bellini’s forged document was entirely worthless. He had stolen a house that could not legally be his.

Arthur’s face turned purple. “That’s a lie! I scoured every document!”

“Not the ones hidden in the rosary,” Teresa said softly.

Luca looked at Vanessa, disgust rolling off him in waves. “You played yourself.”

Vanessa panicked. She lunged toward Teresa, reaching for the rosary. “Give me that!”

Before I could stop her, Vanessa’s hand collided with the heavy silver coffee pot on the table.

The pot tipped.

Scalding hot coffee poured directly onto the floor, splashing against the baseboards.

But as the dark liquid pooled on the hardwood, it began to dissolve the floor wax, revealing something carved into the floorboards right under Vanessa’s chair.

A hidden safe.

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