Chapter 3 – THE WATERFRONT SECRET

Vanessa stepped back, her red heels clicking against the marble floor.

“I was at home, Luca. You know this. The police verified my alibi seven years ago.”

Luca took a slow step toward her. The air in the room felt suffocating. The wealthy guests were entirely silent, realizing they were witnessing the unravelling of Chicago’s most powerful family.

“My father’s note,” Luca said, his voice chillingly flat, “says otherwise.”

He held up the crumpled paper.

“My father knew he was dying. He hired private investigators. He found out Marco was sending money to Vermont. But more importantly, he found out who tampered with Marco’s boat engine.”

Vanessa’s lips trembled. “Your father was paranoid. He hated me because my family was a rival. He made it up to ruin me.”

“He didn’t make up the bank transfers,” Giovanni interrupted, his thick Italian accent cutting through the tension.

All eyes turned to the older gentleman.

“Mr. Moretti,” Giovanni continued. “When your father set up the trust for Isabella’s child, he also gave me a secondary file. I was told to keep it sealed unless Vanessa Bellini ever tried to send the child away.”

Vanessa’s eyes darted toward the exit. “Security! Remove this man!”

But the guards at the door didn’t move. They looked at Luca.

Luca nodded at Giovanni. “What was in the file?”

“Proof,” Giovanni said simply. “That Vanessa’s family business, the Bellini Shipping Group, paid a mechanic forty thousand dollars two days before Marco’s accident.”

Grace gasped, pulling Sophie tighter against her legs.

I looked at Vanessa. The elegant, cruel woman who had spent the last eleven months treating me like dirt was completely unspooling.

“It’s a lie!” Vanessa screamed, pointing a manicured finger at Grace. “This trash is trying to destroy us! Marco was drunk! He crashed his own boat!”

“Marco didn’t drink,” Luca said softly. “He had a severe allergy to alcohol. One glass of wine would put him in the hospital.”

The room went dead silent again.

“The autopsy,” Luca continued, taking another step toward Vanessa, “showed a blood alcohol level of point-two-zero. Someone forced it down his throat before he got on that boat.”

Vanessa hit the edge of the long dining table. There was nowhere left for her to run.

“You can’t prove I was there,” she sneered, her mask completely gone. “The mechanic is dead. The files are circumstantial. I am a Bellini. You touch me, and my family will burn your empire to the ground.”

Luca stopped right in front of her.

“I don’t need to touch you, Vanessa. Because I know who else was on the dock that night.”

He turned to the crowd of guests.

“Don’t I, Senator?”

A gray-haired man sitting three chairs down flinched so hard his silver silverware clattered to the plate.

Senator Thomas Hayes. One of the most powerful politicians in Illinois, and a frequent guest at Vanessa’s charity galas.

“Luca, please,” the Senator stammered, his face pale and sweating. “I didn’t know what she was planning.”

Vanessa spun on him. “Shut up, you old fool!”

But the Senator stood up, raising his hands in surrender.

“She blackmailed me,” the Senator cried. “I was on the dock meeting Marco about a rezoning permit. I saw Vanessa and her brothers. They were carrying Marco onto the boat. He was unconscious. She told me if I ever said a word, she’d release the photos of my offshore accounts.”

Grace let out a muffled sob.

Little Sophie looked up at me, confused. “Miss Emily, why are they yelling?”

I knelt down and covered her ears gently. “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s almost over.”

But I knew it wasn’t.

Vanessa suddenly grabbed a heavy silver steak knife from the table.

She didn’t aim it at Luca.

She aimed it directly at Grace.

“If that brat is Marco’s heir,” Vanessa hissed, lunging forward, “then I lose everything!”

I didn’t think. I just reacted.

I shoved Grace and Sophie backward, throwing myself into Vanessa’s path.

The blade sliced through the thick fabric of my maid’s uniform, dragging a hot, burning line across my left shoulder.

I cried out, stumbling backward.

Before Vanessa could swing again, a massive hand clamped around her wrist.

Luca twisted her arm. The knife clattered to the marble floor.

Two security guards instantly rushed forward, pinning Vanessa to the ground.

“Emily!” Grace dropped to her knees beside me, pressing her hands over my bleeding shoulder.

Luca was beside me a second later. He ripped a linen napkin from the table and pressed it hard against the cut.

“Look at me, Emily,” Luca commanded, his dark eyes frantic. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I winced. “It’s just a scratch.”

Luca looked at the blood soaking the napkin. Then he looked at Vanessa, who was screaming profanities on the floor.

“Call the police,” Luca told the guards. “Tell them we have a confession for the murder of Marco Moretti.”

Vanessa laughed, a hysterical, broken sound.

“You think you’ve won, Luca? You think little Sophie gets the happy ending?”

She glared up at him from the floor.

“The Foundation paperwork requires two signatures to transfer the inheritance. Your father’s… and Isabella’s.”

Grace froze.

“Isabella is dead,” Grace whispered. “She died of cancer five years ago.”

Vanessa grinned, her teeth stained with red wine.

“Exactly. Without the mother’s signature, the shares default to the primary trustee.”

She smiled maliciously.

“And I signed the trustee transfer papers this morning.”

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