Chapter 2 – The Gold Watch On His Wrist

Thirty pairs of eyes snapped toward Arthur Bellini.

The older man sat perfectly still. He didn’t even try to pull his cuff down.

Instead, he calmly rested his left hand on the table. A slim, vintage gold Cartier watch gleamed under the crystal chandelier. It was a woman’s watch.

Luca stared at the timepiece.

“Take it off,” Luca whispered.

Arthur smiled, a cold, empty expression. “Luca, my boy. You’re letting a traumatized child and a disgruntled brother-in-law ruin a beautiful engagement dinner.”

“Take. It. Off.”

Luca took a step toward Arthur. The room’s temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.

Arthur sighed, unclasped the watch, and slid it across the mahogany table.

Luca picked it up. He turned it over.

His thumb brushed over an engraving on the back. I couldn’t see the words, but I saw Luca’s jaw tighten until I thought his teeth would crack.

“You son of a bitch,” Luca breathed.

“Elena was weak,” Arthur stated flatly. “She was never going to give you the political connections you needed to expand into New York. My daughter will.”

Vanessa rushed to her father’s side. “Dad, what are you doing? We had a deal!”

Arthur ignored his daughter. “The girl was supposed to stay dead. Marco couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Now, we have a problem.”

Luca slammed his fist onto the table, shattering a crystal wine glass.

“Where is my wife?!”

Arthur stood up, straightening his tie. “Somewhere safe. But she won’t remain safe unless you sign the merger documents tomorrow morning. And if you involve the police, we send her back to you in pieces.”

I clutched Isabella tighter. The little girl was sobbing silently into my apron.

“You think you can walk into my home and threaten my family?” Luca’s voice was deadly quiet.

“I know I can,” Arthur said. “Because I have insurance.”

He looked directly at me.

My stomach plummeted.

“Emily Carter,” Arthur sneered. “Such a dedicated maid. So fluent in Italian.”

Luca frowned, glancing at me. “Leave Emily out of this.”

“I can’t do that,” Arthur chuckled. “Not when her dear old grandmother was the nurse who signed Elena’s fake death certificate at the county morgue.”

The room began to spin.

“No,” I whispered. “That’s a lie.”

“Is it?” Arthur pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and tossed it onto the table.

Luca picked it up. His eyes scanned the document.

He slowly looked up at me, betrayal flickering in his dark eyes.

“Emily,” Luca said, his voice thick with emotion. “Your grandmother’s signature is on this autopsy report.”

“I didn’t know!” I cried, tears welling in my eyes. “I swear to God, Luca, I didn’t know!”

Isabella looked up at me, her little hands gripping my dress.

Then, she reached into her own pocket.

She pulled out a crumpled, faded photograph and shoved it into my hand.

I looked at it, and the breath left my lungs.

It was a picture of my grandmother holding a newborn baby.

But it wasn’t me.

It was Vanessa.

“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, my hands shaking violently. “My grandmother didn’t just sign the paperwork. She raised your fiancée.”

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