Chapter 2 – THE SILVER ROSARY UNDER THE PILLOW

The dining room felt like the air had been sucked out of it.

Forty guests sat frozen in their chairs, their expensive wine glasses untouched. The clinking of silverware had vanished, replaced by the heavy, ragged sound of Luca Moretti’s breathing. He stood tall and rigid at the head of the table, his dark eyes locked onto mine.

“Emily,” he repeated, his voice dangerously low. “What did you see in that guest bedroom?”

My hands trembled so violently I had to press them against my thighs. I looked at Vanessa. The beautiful, poised woman who had humiliated me minutes ago was now gripping the back of a mahogany chair, her knuckles bone-white. She gave me a look—a sharp, desperate warning that screamed at me to keep my mouth shut.

But I thought of my mother’s medical bills. I thought of the way Vanessa had treated me like dirt on her expensive heels. And most importantly, I looked at Luca, a man who had just been told his dead wife was still breathing.

“Yesterday,” I started, my voice shaking. “When I was changing the sheets on the guest bed, I found something stuffed between the mattress and the headboard. Mrs. Bellini rushed in and snatched it from me before I could look closely.”

Luca stepped toward me, completely ignoring his fiancée. “What was it?”

“It was a silver rosary, sir,” I whispered. “And… a small, folded piece of paper.”

Natalie gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “A silver rosary? With a broken clasp?”

I nodded slowly. “Yes. The cross was missing a tiny stone at the bottom.”

A choked sob tore from Natalie’s throat. She looked at Luca, her eyes wide with shock and pure devastation. “That was our mother’s rosary. Caroline never took it off. Never.”

Luca’s jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth might shatter. He turned his terrifying gaze to Vanessa. “Where is it?”

Vanessa tried to laugh, but it sounded like glass breaking. “Luca, darling, the maid is lying! She’s just angry because I tried to fire her. She’s making things up to ruin our dinner!”

“I am not lying,” I said, my voice suddenly finding its strength. I pointed to the small velvet evening bag resting on Vanessa’s chair. “When she took it from me yesterday, she put it in her pocket. But tonight, right before the guests arrived, I saw her slip something shiny into that bag.”

Vanessa lunged for the purse, but Luca was faster.

His large hand clamped down on her wrist. The room collectively gasped. Luca had always been a composed, calculating man. Even with his mafia ties—whispered about but never spoken of in polite company—he was always the gentleman in public. But right now, the polished veneer was entirely gone.

“Give it to me,” Luca demanded.

“Luca, you’re hurting me!” Vanessa cried, tears spilling over her perfectly applied makeup.

He didn’t release her. With his free hand, he unclasped the velvet bag and dumped its contents onto the pristine white tablecloth. Lipstick, a compact mirror, a valet ticket, and there, gleaming under the chandelier, was a tarnished silver rosary.

Natalie reached out with trembling fingers and picked it up. “It’s hers,” she sobbed, holding it to her chest. “It’s Caroline’s.”

Luca stared at the rosary as if it were a ghost. Then, he noticed the small, folded piece of paper that had fallen out with it. He picked it up. His hands, marked with dark ink, were actually shaking.

He unfolded the paper.

I watched his eyes scan the words. Whatever was written there drained the remaining color from his face. He read it once. Then again.

“Where is she?” Luca’s voice was a terrifying whisper.

Vanessa backed away, hitting the edge of the table. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I bought that at an antique shop!”

“WHERE IS SHE, VANESSA?!” Luca roared, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. Several guests jumped.

“She’s dead!” Vanessa screamed back, losing all her composure. “She drowned, Luca! They never found the body, but she’s gone! This is a trick!”

Luca stepped into Vanessa’s space, holding the paper up to her face. “Then explain to me why this note, dated yesterday, is written in my dead wife’s handwriting?”

The room erupted into shocked whispers.

Natalie stood up, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. “What does it say? Luca, please, what did she write?”

Luca’s eyes never left Vanessa, but he read the words aloud, his voice breaking on the final syllable.

“They tell me my name is Sarah. But when I look at the stars, I remember a man named Luca. Please… don’t let them take my baby.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

“Baby?” Natalie whispered, the word hanging in the air. “Caroline… was pregnant?”

I stared at Luca. I had worked here for almost a year. I had dusted the empty rooms, polished the quiet halls. There were no children in this house.

Luca looked like a man who had just been shot in the chest. He looked at Vanessa, his eyes dark with a lethal kind of fury. “You told me she lost the baby before the accident.”

Vanessa was trembling violently now. “She did! Luca, I swear—”

“Emily,” Luca interrupted, his voice suddenly dead calm. It was scarier than his yelling. “You said Vanessa wanted you out of this house tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” I answered, my heart racing. “She said my presence was a liability.”

Luca looked at Vanessa. “Why is Emily a liability?”

Before Vanessa could formulate another lie, a heavy, rhythmic knocking echoed from the grand oak front doors.

Everyone froze. It wasn’t the polite knock of a late dinner guest. It was urgent. Desperate.

One of the security guards stationed in the hall opened the door.

A small figure stood in the entryway, shivering in the Chicago night air.

It was a little boy. He looked about five years old. He was wearing pajamas that were too thin for the weather, and his bare feet were dirty.

But it was his face that made my breath catch in my throat.

He had dark, swept-back hair. And piercing, unmistakable dark eyes.

He looked exactly like Luca.

The boy clutched a small, worn object to his chest. He looked around the massive room, his eyes wide with fear, before his gaze landed on Vanessa.

“You promised,” the little boy’s voice trembled, echoing in the silent room. “You promised if I stayed quiet in the basement, you wouldn’t hurt my mommy anymore.”

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