Chapter 1 – The Deed To My Mother’s House

“What,” Luca asked, his voice dangerously quiet, “have you done with her house?”

Blake’s confidence shattered. I saw the exact moment it happened. His shoulders dropped, and his eyes darted toward the grand mahogany doors of the dining room.

He was looking for an exit.

“I don’t know what she’s talking about,” Blake stammered, stepping back.

Celeste didn’t let him retreat. The gentle, polite hotel heiress was gone. In her place was a woman realizing she’d been sleeping next to a stranger.

“You told me Nora’s mother had to move into a specialized care facility,” Celeste said, her voice shaking but loud enough for the silent room to hear. “You said the state was going to seize her childhood home to pay for the medical debts. You brought me a stack of legal documents to sign as a witness.”

My breath caught in my throat. “A witness?”

Celeste turned to me, her eyes brimming with tears. “He said he was transferring the deed into a protective trust to save it for you, Nora. Because you were too emotionally unstable to handle the paperwork yourself.”

I felt physically sick.

My mother’s house. The tiny, two-bedroom bungalow with the yellow front door. The place where my father had planted hydrangeas before his heart attack.

It was the only thing I had left of them.

“Blake,” I whispered, stepping toward him. “My name is on that deed. It went to me when she passed. You couldn’t transfer it without my signature.”

Blake raised his chin, trying to muster a shred of his former arrogance. “You signed a Power of Attorney during our divorce, Nora. You just didn’t read the fine print.”

“That’s a lie,” I said, my voice rising. “I read every single page.”

“Did you?” Blake sneered. “Or did you just sign where I pointed while you were crying over your packing boxes?”

Luca moved so fast I barely registered it.

One second, he was standing beside his mother’s chair. The next, his hand was clamped firmly on Blake’s shoulder. It didn’t look like a violent gesture to the untrained eye, but Blake’s knees immediately buckled.

“You will speak to her with respect,” Luca murmured, his dark eyes locked on Blake’s pale face. “Or you will not speak at all.”

“Mr. Moretti, this is a family matter—”

“Not anymore,” Luca interrupted softly. He looked at Celeste. “Ms. Whitmore, do you remember the name of the notary who stamped those documents? A transfer of deed requires a registered notary.”

Celeste closed her eyes, thinking. “It was a man. Older. He met us at a coffee shop instead of a law office. His stamp… it had an unusual name. Volante. Arthur Volante.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

I saw Luca’s jaw tighten. The faint, polite smile he wore for his guests vanished entirely.

Beside me, Teresa let out a sharp gasp.

I looked between them, confused. “Who is Arthur Volante?”

Luca didn’t answer me. Instead, he leaned closer to Blake. “Arthur Volante lost his notary license six years ago,” Luca said, his voice laced with pure ice. “After I exiled him from this city for stealing from my family.”

Blake’s face went entirely white.

“So,” Luca continued, releasing Blake’s shoulder and pulling a sleek black phone from his tailored jacket. “Not only did you forge your ex-wife’s signature, and defraud your fiancée, but you did business with a man who knows he is not allowed to breathe the air in my city.”

Blake stumbled backward, tripping over the edge of an antique rug. “He told me he was legitimate! He said he could process the paperwork quietly!”

“Where are the documents now?” I demanded, stepping in front of Blake. “Who actually owns my house?”

Blake looked at me, a desperate, ugly smirk forming on his lips. “You think I kept it? I sold it, Nora. The trust was a shell company. The house was sold to a private developer three days ago. By tomorrow morning, the bulldozers are tearing it down.”

My heart stopped.

Tomorrow morning.

“You sold my mother’s home?” I choked out, tears finally spilling over my eyelashes.

“I had debts!” Blake yelled, losing his composure. “You never understood the pressure I was under! I needed the cash!”

Luca dialed a number on his phone, never taking his eyes off Blake. “Silvio,” Luca said into the receiver. “Bring the car around. We’re going for a drive.”

Luca hung up and looked at me. “Get your coat, Nora. We are going to your house.”

“It’s too late,” Blake laughed bitterly. “The locks are changed. The developer’s security team is already there.”

Luca adjusted his cuffs. “I have never met a lock that didn’t open for me.”

Celeste reached out and grabbed my hand. She pressed my mother’s emerald ring into my palm. “Take it,” she whispered. “It was never mine.”

I clutched the gold band to my chest.

Before I could thank her, Blake reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a heavy, brass key. He tossed it onto the dining table. It landed with a loud, metallic clatter.

“You want to go to the house?” Blake said, his eyes wild and malicious. “Go. But you might want to look under the loose floorboards in your mother’s bedroom closet before they demolish the place. Because I found something down there, Nora. Something your perfect mother hid from you for twenty-seven years.”