Chapter 2 – A LIE SPUN IN RED SILK

The silence in the dining room wasn’t just heavy.

It was suffocating.

Twenty-eight guests sat paralyzed, their expensive champagne warming in their glasses.

Vanessa’s hand trembled against the edge of the table.

She finally met Luca’s eyes.

“Luca, darling, I wanted to tell you tonight. After the toast.”

Luca didn’t smile. He didn’t reach for her hand.

He remained crouching beside his ten-year-old daughter.

“You’re pregnant.”

Vanessa offered a fragile, tearful smile.

“Yes. A little brother or sister for Isabelle. I was trying to prepare the house. I wanted everything perfect.”

She reached toward her designer handbag on the empty chair beside her.

“I have the ultrasound right here. From this morning.”

She pulled out a small, glossy black-and-white print.

She slid it across the white tablecloth.

“Six weeks, Luca.”

The guests let out a collective breath, a murmur of sympathetic congratulations ready on their lips.

But Luca didn’t look at the photo.

He looked at Vanessa.

“Six weeks.”

Vanessa nodded, her confidence returning slightly.

“Yes. Dr. Evans confirmed it. I was so overwhelmed with joy, I just… I got ahead of myself with the house. I know I handled Isabelle’s room poorly, but my maternal instincts just took over.”

She pressed a manicured hand to her chest.

“I love this family so much.”

Luca stood up slowly.

His tailored suit shifted perfectly across his broad shoulders.

“Mrs. Carter.”

The head housekeeper stepped forward immediately.

“Yes, Mr. Moretti?”

“Please escort our guests to the front hall. Their coats are in the cloakroom. The engagement dinner is over.”

A shocked gasp rippled across the table.

Vanessa’s face drained of color again.

“Luca, no! You can’t send them away. We’re celebrating our family!”

Luca finally looked down at the ultrasound photo on the table.

Then he looked at his fiancée.

“I had a vasectomy three years ago, Vanessa.”

The room plunged into an icy, terrifying quiet.

Vanessa’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“Caroline and I decided one child was enough for us,” Luca said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “I never reversed it.”

He tapped the ultrasound photo with one finger.

“So unless this is a miracle, it isn’t mine.”

Vanessa stumbled back, hitting her chair.

“Luca, I… I can explain. It was just once. I felt so lonely when you were in New York for business—”

“Mrs. Carter,” Luca repeated.

“Right away, sir.”

The guests scrambled up, leaving their napkins and half-eaten meals behind, desperate to escape the quiet wrath of Chicago’s most dangerous man.

Luca turned to me.

“Charlotte.”

“Yes, sir?” My voice shook.

“Take Isabelle upstairs. Do not let anyone into her room.”

“Yes, Mr. Moretti.”

I gently touched Isabelle’s shoulder. She was staring at her father, wide-eyed.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go upstairs.”

As I led her out of the dining room, I heard Vanessa sobbing, begging Luca to listen.

But Luca Moretti had already turned his back on her.

Upstairs, Isabelle’s bedroom was exactly as Caroline had left it.

Soft yellow walls. The faded blue rocking chair by the window. The doorframe covered in little pencil marks and hearts.

Isabelle sat on the edge of her bed, her feet dangling.

She looked at the napkin in my hands, holding the broken silver ballerina.

“Is my daddy going to send Vanessa away?”

I knelt in front of her, setting the napkin carefully on her nightstand.

“Your dad is going to take care of everything, Isabelle. You don’t have to worry about losing your room.”

She looked down at her hands.

“She told me my mom didn’t want me to have all this old junk.”

My heart broke.

“Vanessa was wrong. Your mom loved you more than anything.”

I walked over to her white dresser to grab her pajamas.

As I opened the bottom drawer, my hand brushed against something hard tucked beneath a stack of winter sweaters.

I pulled it out.

It was a man’s gold pocket watch.

Heavy. Antique. The chain was broken.

Isabelle looked over.

“What’s that?” she asked.

I frowned, turning it over in my hand. “I’m not sure, honey. Was this your dad’s?”

“No. I found it yesterday.”

I paused. “Where?”

“In Vanessa’s purse.”

My blood ran cold.

Because flipped open, the inside of the gold casing had an engraving.

To my beloved brother, Thomas. 1998.

Thomas Moretti.

Luca’s younger brother.

The one who had supposedly died in a car accident five years ago—before Vanessa ever even met Luca.

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