TAKE THAT LITTLE GIRL’S MICROPHONE AWAY, YOU IGNORANT LITTLE MAID! SHE HAS NOTHING IMPORTANT TO SAY!” THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 25-YEAR-OLD HOUSEKEEPER IN FRONT OF FIFTY DINNER GUESTS—BUT WHEN THE MAID REFUSED TO SILENCE HIS TEN-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER

Chapter 2 – THE PHOTOGRAPH IN THE ENVELOPE

I stared at the white envelope in Luca’s hand.

My heart completely stopped.

The silence in the dusty room was deafening. The only sound was Isabella’s soft breathing as she looked up at me with wide, innocent eyes.

“Sir… I don’t understand,” I whispered. My legs felt like they were made of lead. “I never met your wife. I only started working here eleven months ago.”

Luca’s dark eyes searched my face.

He stepped closer, holding out the envelope. “Her handwriting is unmistakable, Emily. Take it.”

My hands were shaking violently as I reached out.

The paper felt heavy. My name—Emily Carter—was written in elegant, looping cursive.

I carefully tore the seal.

Inside was a single, faded Polaroid photograph.

I pulled it out and turned it over. When I saw the image, the breath left my lungs in a sharp gasp.

It was a picture of two young women sitting on a porch. They were laughing, their heads leaning against each other. They looked to be in their early twenties.

One of them was a beautiful woman with dark, flowing hair. Elena Moretti.

The other woman…

“Mom,” I choked out.

My mother, smiling and radiant, long before the illness took away her strength.

Luca leaned in to look at the photo. “Your mother knew Elena?”

“I… I didn’t know,” I stammered, tears springing to my eyes. “She never told me. Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

Roberto stepped closer. The Italian businessman adjusted his tailored coat.

“Because your mother made a promise, Emily,” Roberto said softly.

I snapped my head toward him. “You know my mother?”

Roberto offered a sad smile. “I know a great deal about the people who helped my sister.”

Before I could ask him what he meant, heavy footsteps pounded up the marble staircase outside the study.

The oak doors flew open.

Vanessa stormed into the room, followed by two of Luca’s massive security guards.

“Arrest her!” Vanessa shrieked, pointing a manicured finger directly at me. “She stole it!”

Luca stepped smoothly between me and the guards. “Stand down.”

The guards immediately froze. They worked for the Moretti family, not the Bellinis.

Vanessa’s face was flushed red with panic and fury. “Luca, are you blind? That little maid set this whole thing up! She forged that ledger to ruin my father. And she stole my diamond bracelet!”

I blinked in shock. “What?”

“Search her apron!” Vanessa yelled.

One of the guards looked at Luca for permission. Luca’s jaw clenched, but he gave a curt nod.

I stood still, my hands trembling as the guard patted down the deep pockets of my housekeeper apron.

His hand stopped.

He pulled out a glittering, diamond-encrusted bracelet.

Vanessa sneered triumphantly. “See? A common thief. Throw her out on the street where she belongs, or I’ll call the police myself.”

Isabella started to cry. “No! Emily didn’t take it!”

My world was spinning. I needed this job. My mother’s hospital bills were past due. If I was arrested for theft, we would lose our home.

“I didn’t put that in there,” I pleaded, looking up at Luca. “I swear to you, Mr. Moretti. I was holding Isabella’s hand the entire night.”

Luca looked at the bracelet.

Then he looked at Vanessa.

“Vanessa,” Luca said, his voice eerily calm. “When did Emily steal this from you?”

“Downstairs!” Vanessa snapped. “When she refused to take Isabella upstairs. She bumped into me and slipped it off my wrist!”

Luca slowly shook his head.

“That’s fascinating,” he said.

He reached into his own suit jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times and held it up.

It was the security footage from the dining room, taken ten minutes ago.

It clearly showed Vanessa aggressively grabbing my apron, pulling me away from Isabella.

And as her hand brushed my pocket, a flash of diamonds slipped from her palm into the fabric.

Vanessa went completely pale.

“You planted it,” Luca said, his voice echoing with disgust. “You tried to frame the only person in this house who actually cares about my daughter.”

Vanessa opened her mouth, but no words came out.

“Get out of this room,” Luca commanded. “Both of you.” He glared at the guards. “Take her downstairs. Nobody leaves the dining room until I say so.”

The guards grabbed Vanessa by the arms. She screamed and thrashed, but they dragged her out, pulling the heavy oak doors shut behind them.

The silence rushed back in.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. A tear slipped down my cheek.

Luca turned back to me. His hard expression softened instantly.

“Are you alright, Emily?” he asked gently.

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“You don’t call me sir anymore,” he said. “You’re not just a maid to us.”

He looked down at the photograph I was still gripping in my hand.

“Let me see that again.”

I handed it to him. Luca studied the picture of Elena and my mother.

“Look at this,” Luca muttered, pointing to a detail in the background.

In the photograph, resting on a table behind the two women, was a very distinct, gold pocket watch. It had a strange, jagged engraving on the front.

Luca looked up slowly.

He turned his gaze to Roberto.

Roberto was standing quietly by the bookshelf, checking the time.

In his hand, hanging from a gold chain, was the exact same pocket watch with the jagged engraving.

Luca’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Who the hell are you, Roberto?”

Roberto snapped the watch shut.

He looked at Isabella, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

Then he looked at Luca.

“My name isn’t Roberto Ferraro,” the man said softly. “My name is Roberto Rossi. Elena was my younger sister.”

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