Chapter 6 – THE SACRIFICE OF A SAINT

The confession hit the room like a physical blow.

Vanessa stared at Sofia, her mouth open, unable to process the words.

“You?” Vanessa whispered.

Sofia fell to her knees on the marble floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

“I was nineteen,” Sofia cried, burying her face in her hands. “I had been drinking at the party. Catherine was sober, but she was in the passenger seat. When the crash happened, I panicked. I was terrified of going to jail. I was terrified of destroying the family name.”

Teresa walked slowly toward her daughter. The old woman placed a trembling hand on Sofia’s shaking shoulder.

“Catherine switched seats with me,” Sofia wept. “Before the police arrived. She told them she was driving. She took the blame. She took the criminal record. She took the public shame. All to protect me.”

Luca closed his eyes, a single tear escaping. He had known. He had carried the secret with his wife for a decade.

Vanessa looked like she had been struck by lightning.

“No,” Vanessa breathed, backing away. “No, that’s impossible. Catherine paid the settlement. Catherine sent the monthly checks to the nursing home!”

“Because Catherine was plagued with guilt over what I did!” Sofia screamed, looking up at Vanessa with agonizing pain. “She couldn’t bear what happened to your sister! She paid for Clara’s care out of her own inheritance because I was a cowardly teenager who couldn’t face the consequences!”

Vanessa stumbled backward, hitting a chair. It tipped over, crashing loudly to the floor.

“You killed an innocent woman,” Elena, the nurse, said coldly. “A woman who spent the last ten years of her life trying to atone for a sin she didn’t commit.”

Vanessa shook her head rapidly, her hands gripping her hair.

“No. No! She was a monster! She deserved it! I planned it perfectly!”

In her panic, Vanessa didn’t realize what she had just admitted.

Luca opened his eyes. The sorrow was gone. Only pure, freezing fury remained.

“You planned it perfectly,” Luca repeated softly.

Vanessa clamped her hands over her mouth, realizing her mistake.

“You pushed a pillow over my wife’s face while she was having an asthma attack,” Luca said, taking a slow step toward her. “You watched her die. And then you spent the last three years sleeping in my bed, playing stepmother to the child whose mother you murdered.”

“It was justice!” Vanessa shrieked, cornered and desperate. “It was an eye for an eye!”

“It was murder,” a new voice said.

Everyone turned toward the front doors.

Standing in the entryway, dripping wet from the rain, were four uniformed Chicago police officers.

Behind them stood a detective in a tan trench coat.

Vanessa let out a strangled gasp. She looked at Marcus, the security guard.

“You called them?!” she shrieked.

Marcus shook his head miserably. “I didn’t.”

“I did,” I said.

Vanessa’s head snapped toward me.

I stepped out from behind Mia, making sure the little girl was safely holding her grandmother’s hand.

“When Mrs. Moretti told me to check your coat,” I explained, my voice remarkably steady despite the pounding of my heart. “I didn’t just check your pockets. I unlocked the front door and let the police in. They’ve been listening in the hallway for the last ten minutes.”

The detective walked into the dining room.

“Vanessa Bellini,” the detective said, pulling a pair of silver handcuffs from his belt. “You are under arrest for the murder of Catherine Moretti.”

Vanessa scrambled backward, grabbing a steak knife from the dining table.

“Stay back!” she screamed, waving the blade wildly. “None of you understand! I did what I had to do!”

The guests scattered, screaming and hiding behind the heavy furniture.

The officers drew their tasers. “Drop the knife, ma’am!”

But before anyone could move, an old, wrinkled hand reached out and grabbed Vanessa’s wrist.

It was Teresa.

The seventy-eight-year-old woman gripped Vanessa’s arm with surprising, terrifying strength.

“You called me a senile old bat,” Teresa whispered, her eyes burning into Vanessa’s. “You made my son think I was losing my mind. You tried to throw my granddaughter in a boarding school to get her out of your way.”

Teresa squeezed Vanessa’s wrist until Vanessa cried out in pain, dropping the knife onto the floor.

“I haven’t been confused for a single day, Vanessa,” Teresa said coldly. “I played the fool so you would let your guard down. I wore this coat every Thursday because I knew seeing me wait for Sofia drove you insane. I wanted you to crack. And tonight, you broke.”

Teresa released her grip.

“Take her away,” the old woman commanded the police.

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