Chapter 3 – THE BRACELET ON HER WRIST

The platinum caught the dim light of the hallway, mocking the silence.

Answer one: The carjacking wasn’t random. Vanessa had orchestrated Elena’s death to clear her path to Luca, and the New York syndicate had proof of her involvement.

Luca stared at the bracelet that had once belonged to the mother of his child. His grip on Vanessa’s arm tightened until she whimpered in pain.

“You took this from her body,” Luca whispered. The sheer grief and rage in his voice made my chest ache.

“I didn’t kill her!” Vanessa sobbed, dropping to her knees on the expensive carpet. “The New York men did! I just told them what route her car was taking! They gave me the bracelet as a trophy! I swear, Luca, I didn’t pull the trigger!”

“You pointed the gun,” Luca said, his voice devoid of all warmth.

He unclasped the bracelet from her wrist and dropped it into his pocket like it burned him.

“Daniel,” Luca ordered. “Take her to the basement. She doesn’t leave until she gives us the names of every New York operative in this city.”

The guards dragged a screaming Vanessa down the stairs. The forty guests had already been ushered out of the house. The mansion, usually so full of life, felt like a tomb.

I walked over to Teresa. The elderly woman looked exhausted, her brief burst of energy fading.

“Let’s get you back to bed, Mrs. Moretti,” I said gently, taking the handles of her wheelchair.

Luca watched me wheel his mother into her suite. He didn’t speak, but his eyes followed my every movement.

After tucking Teresa in, I walked into the hallway. Luca was standing near the window, staring out into the dark grounds.

“I should pack my things,” I said quietly.

Luca turned. “Why?”

“Vanessa fired me.”

“Vanessa doesn’t run this house,” Luca stepped closer. “And she never will. You are staying, Hannah.”

I looked down at my worn black shoes. “Mr. Moretti, I’m just a maid. I shouldn’t be involved in syndicate business.”

“You aren’t a maid anymore,” Luca said firmly. “You are the only person in this house who saw the truth when I was blind to it. You saved my daughter. You gave my mother her voice back.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the heavy platinum bracelet.

“Clean this for me,” Luca said, handing it to me. “I want to put it in a glass case for Sophie when she wakes up.”

I took the bracelet. It was incredibly heavy.

Open two: As I turned the bracelet over in my hands, a small, hidden clasp near the hinge caught my eye.

“Mr. Moretti,” I frowned, pressing my fingernail against the tiny clasp. “There’s a hidden compartment in the links.”

The platinum popped open.

Folded tightly inside the tiny hollow space was a small, yellowed piece of paper.

I pulled it out and smoothed it flat.

It was a train ticket. A one-way ticket to Montreal.

But it wasn’t dated five years ago. It was dated for tomorrow.

And the name printed on it was Eleanor Moretti.

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