Chapter 1 – THE GOLD WATCH LEFT ON THE DESK

Luca didn’t shout.

He didn’t need to.

The silence that followed Teresa’s words was heavier than any scream.

He looked at the empty chair where his younger brother had been sitting just twenty minutes ago.

Then he looked at the gray-haired gentleman.

“Where did Michael go?”

The man wiped his mouth with a linen napkin.

“Mr. Moretti, I am simply a medical evaluator. Your brother retained my services to ensure your mother’s well-being before the estate trust is finalized tomorrow.”

Luca’s eyes narrowed.

“The trust doesn’t require a medical evaluation.”

“It does,” the man said quietly, “if the primary beneficiary is deemed mentally unfit to hold her shares.”

Teresa gasped.

My hands began to shake.

Because I knew what that meant. Teresa owned forty percent of the Moretti family empire. It was her husband’s dying wish that she always remain protected.

If she was declared unfit, her shares wouldn’t go to Luca.

They would automatically transfer to the next married son.

And Michael was already married.

Luca turned toward Vanessa.

“Did you know about this?”

Vanessa’s face was completely flushed.

“Darling, I was only trying to help Michael. He came to me weeks ago, concerned about your mother’s memory. We both thought it was best to handle this quietly so you wouldn’t be burdened right before our wedding.”

“Burdened,” Luca repeated.

The word sounded like broken glass.

Teresa squeezed my hand so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“Hannah,” she whispered. “The library.”

I leaned down. “What about the library, Mrs. Moretti?”

“Michael told me if he didn’t come back to the table by the time the candle went out, I needed to tell Luca to check the library desk.”

I immediately looked at Luca.

“Sir. Your mother says Michael left something in the library.”

Luca didn’t wait.

He turned and walked out of the dining room.

I helped Teresa stand, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her shoulders, and we followed him down the long, shadowed hallway. Vanessa hurried closely behind us, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.

When Luca pushed open the heavy oak doors of the library, the room was dark.

Only the desk lamp was switched on.

Sitting in the absolute center of the leather blotter was a gold pocket watch.

It had belonged to Luca and Michael’s father. Michael never took it off.

Luca picked it up.

Attached to the chain was a small, silver safety deposit key.

And slipped beneath the watch was a single piece of heavy stationary.

Luca read the note in silence.

I watched the muscles in his jaw tighten until I thought they might snap.

“Luca?” Vanessa asked, her voice trembling slightly as she stepped into the room. “What did he do?”

Luca didn’t look at her.

He just handed the note to me.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I read Michael’s hurried handwriting.

“Luca, if you are reading this, I failed. They took him. Don’t sign the marriage certificate. The evaluator isn’t here for Mom. He’s here to certify that you are the one making her unsafe.”

I gasped.

Vanessa stepped forward, trying to grab the paper, but Luca caught her wrist.

His grip wasn’t violent, but it was completely immovable.

“Who did they take, Vanessa?”

She shook her head, tears spilling down her perfectly powdered cheeks.

“I don’t know what he’s talking about! Michael has always been jealous of you, Luca. He’s trying to ruin our wedding!”

But Teresa suddenly walked past us.

She moved toward the large leather armchair by the fireplace.

The chair where Michael usually sat when he read to his ten-year-old son, Leo.

Teresa reached down into the cushions.

When she turned around, her hands were trembling.

She was holding a child’s blue winter coat.

“Hannah,” Teresa whispered, her voice breaking.

I walked over to her.

“Look at the sleeve,” she cried.

I looked down.

Torn near the elbow of the thick blue fabric, clearly visible against the bright material, were three dark, unmistakable drops of fresh blood.

And tucked halfway out of the pocket was a small, crumpled drawing.

A drawing of a woman with red hair, wearing a red dress, handing a key to a man with gray hair.

“Mr. Moretti,” I said, my voice completely hollow.

Luca looked at the blood on his nephew’s coat.

Then he looked at Vanessa’s red dress.

“Where is Leo?” Luca asked, and the terrifying calmness in his voice made the entire room feel like it was running out of oxygen.

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