TAKE THAT HEARING AID OFF HIM, YOU IGNORANT LITTLE MAID! HE DOESN’T NEED TO HEAR EVERY CONVERSATION AT MY ENGAGEMENT DINNER!” THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 25-YEAR-OLD HOUSEKEEPER IN FRONT OF FIFTY GUESTS—BUT WHEN THE MAID REFUSED TO TOUCH HIS TEN-YEAR-OLD SON’S EAR, LUCA MORETTI ASKED THE ITALIAN

Chapter 3 – THE ROSARY ON THE WHEEL

Michael stared at the photograph, his breathing shallow and rapid.

“She was my nurse,” he muttered, his fingers tracing the edges of the glossy paper. “Every time I started to wake up, every time I tried to speak… she pushed something into my IV. She kept me under.”

I felt a chill run down my spine.

“Michael, we have to show this to Luca right now.”

Before Michael could answer, the bedroom door swung open violently.

Standing in the doorway was Marcus Bellini, flanked by two massive men in dark suits—his personal guards.

“I’ll take that photograph, maid,” Marcus said, extending a thick hand.

I shoved the picture behind my back.

“You’re not supposed to be up here,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Marcus laughed, a dry, ugly sound.

“This is my daughter’s house now. I go where I please.” He nodded to his guards. “Hold the brother. Get the picture from the girl.”

The men stepped into the room.

Nicholas screamed.

Suddenly, a heavy silver tray smashed into the side of the first guard’s head.

The man collapsed against the doorframe.

Standing in the hallway was Dr. Antonio Bellini, breathing heavily, holding a dented catering tray.

“Leave them alone, Marcus,” Antonio said, his Italian accent thick with anger.

Marcus glared at him. “Antonio. You’re making a mistake. You’re a Bellini. Act like it.”

“I am a doctor,” Antonio replied, standing his ground. “And I am tired of your lies.”

Luca appeared at the end of the hallway, moving with terrifying speed.

When he saw Marcus’s guard in Nicholas’s doorway, Luca didn’t shout. He didn’t ask questions.

He simply grabbed the second guard by the back of the neck and slammed him into the oak wall so hard the framed paintings rattled.

The guard slumped to the floor.

Luca stepped into the room, his eyes scanning the space, landing on me, then Nicholas, then Michael.

“Is everyone hurt?” Luca asked, his chest heaving.

“We’re okay,” I breathed, my hands still shaking.

Luca turned his deadly gaze on Marcus.

“You have five seconds to explain why your men are in my son’s room before I throw you out of that window,” Luca said.

Marcus held up his hands, taking a nervous step back.

“Luca, be reasonable. The brother is unwell. He stole a private family photo from Vanessa—”

“He didn’t steal it,” I interrupted, stepping out from behind Michael. I handed the photograph directly to Luca. “Nicholas found it. Your fiancée brought it into this house.”

Luca stared at the picture.

He recognized his brother’s bruised face. He recognized the hospital room.

Then he saw Vanessa holding the syringe.

The silence in the room was absolute.

“She was a nurse?” Luca whispered, the betrayal coloring every syllable.

Antonio stepped forward.

“Mr. Moretti,” the doctor said quietly. “Vanessa was never invited tonight as my guest. She didn’t want me here. I came tonight because Michael asked me to.”

Luca looked at his brother in shock.

Michael nodded, tears standing in his eyes.

“I’ve been seeing Dr. Antonio in secret for three months, Luca. He’s not just a hearing specialist. He specializes in neurological trauma. I was trying to get my memory back without worrying you.”

Vanessa appeared in the doorway, her red dress looking completely out of place amidst the chaos.

When she saw the photograph in Luca’s hand, she froze.

“Luca,” she started, her voice trembling, playing the victim. “I can explain. I was assigned to his room. I didn’t want to tell you because I was afraid you’d think I targeted you for your money!”

She burst into tears, covering her face.

“I just wanted to be loved for me,” she sobbed.

For a second, the performance was so good, I almost believed her.

But Michael stepped forward.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a delicate, wooden rosary.

It was broken, the string snapped, several beads missing.

Vanessa stopped crying instantly. She stared at the rosary as if it were a ghost.

“When I crashed,” Michael said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “I remember the freezing water. I remember kicking the windshield out.”

He walked slowly toward Vanessa.

“But I also remember what caused the crash. The brakes were completely gone. I grabbed the steering wheel to brace for impact.”

Michael held up the broken wooden beads.

“And this rosary was wrapped around my steering column, jamming the mechanism so I couldn’t turn the wheel.”

Michael looked at Vanessa, his eyes full of heartbreak and rage.

“This is your rosary, Vanessa. I watched you pray with it when you kept me drugged in that hospital bed. You didn’t save me from the water. You tried to drown me.”

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