Chapter 2 – THE POISONED INK

The silver pocket watch dangled from Clara’s trembling fingers.

The glass face was cracked, and the intricate engraving on the casing was worn smooth from years of use.

Isabella tugged on my apron, her little face pale. “Emily, that’s Mommy’s watch. She lost it before she died.”

I squeezed her shoulder gently. “Stay behind me, sweetie.”

Luca slowly reached out and took the watch from Clara. He ran his thumb over the cracked glass. For three years, he had believed his wife had lost this watch in the car accident that took her life.

“Vanessa,” Luca said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. “How did you get this?”

Vanessa was still struggling against the bodyguard’s grip. The elegant, confident woman from twenty minutes ago was completely gone.

“She’s lying!” Vanessa shrieked. “I’ve never seen that watch in my life!”

“Then how do you explain the inscription?” Clara asked, wiping her eyes. “Vanessa told me if I played along tonight, she would tell me why my mother’s initials are engraved on the inside cover of your wife’s watch.”

Luca snapped the watch open.

He stared at the inside of the silver lid.

“A.C.,” Luca read aloud. He looked at Clara. “Who is A.C.?”

“Anna Carter,” Clara said.

My blood ran completely cold.

The dining room began to spin. I gripped the back of Isabella’s chair to keep myself from falling.

Anna Carter was my mother.

Luca looked up, his sharp eyes catching my reaction. He saw the color drain from my face.

“Emily?” Luca asked.

Vanessa saw it too. A vicious, desperate smile spread across her face.

“Look at the little maid,” Vanessa sneered. “Ask her, Luca! Ask her why her mother’s initials are on your dead wife’s jewelry!”

“Is this true, Emily?” Michael asked, stepping closer to me. “Is Anna Carter your mother?”

I couldn’t speak. My throat felt like it was packed with sand. I nodded slowly.

“I… I don’t understand,” I whispered. “My mother has never met your family. She hasn’t left our house in five years because of her illness.”

Vanessa laughed, a harsh, jagged sound. “Your mother is a thief, Emily! And she passed her filthy habits down to you!”

“Enough,” Luca commanded. He didn’t yell, but the authority in his voice silenced the room instantly.

He looked at me, his dark eyes searching my face for any sign of deception. He saw only genuine terror.

“If your mother has been sick for five years,” Luca said slowly, “then she couldn’t have taken this watch from my wife’s car three years ago.”

“No, sir,” I said, my voice shaking. “She couldn’t have.”

Luca turned his gaze back to Clara. “You said this watch belonged to your mother. But you just said your mother is Anna Carter.”

Clara looked at me, her gray eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and guilt.

“I’m sorry, Emily,” Clara whispered. “I didn’t know you worked here until I saw you serving the cake.”

“Sorry for what?” I asked, stepping out from behind the chair.

Clara reached into her purse one more time.

She pulled out a crumpled, faded photograph and handed it to Luca.

Luca looked at the picture. His jaw tightened. He handed it to me.

My hands shook as I took the photograph.

It was a picture of my mother, taken at least twenty-five years ago. She was young, beautiful, and smiling.

And standing right next to her, with his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, was Luca’s late father.

But it was the child in my mother’s arms that made my heart stop.

A baby girl with bright gray eyes.

“I’m your older sister, Emily,” Clara said softly. “And our mother didn’t steal that watch. The mafia gave it to her as hush money.”

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