The Drawing Vanessa Wanted Burned

Chapter 01 - The Drawing Vanessa Wanted Burned

“Throw it in the fireplace, Emma. Right now.”

Vanessa Bellini stood beside the engagement table in a deep-red gown and pointed at the folded paper in my hands.

Twenty-eight guests watched beneath the chandeliers of Luca Moretti’s Chicago mansion.

My left arm was trembling.

Four dark bruises circled my wrist, and a small cut beneath my torn sleeve had started bleeding again.

But I could not make myself throw the drawing into the fire.

Because the eight-year-old boy who had made it was still waiting outside.

And Vanessa had promised him that if he behaved, he might finally get to see his mother.

“Emma.”

I flinched.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“Then do as you’re told.”

I took one step toward the fireplace.

That was when Luca Moretti put down his wineglass.

“What’s on that paper?”

Vanessa laughed too quickly.

“Nothing, darling. Just some ridiculous drawing Emma brought in from outside.”

I looked at Luca.

Then at the flames.

My name is Emma Hayes.

I was twenty-nine, had worked at the Moretti estate for eleven months, and had spent the last four hours trying to forget what happened at the west gate.

My wrist was swollen.

My uniform sleeve was torn.

And the woman beside Luca knew exactly why.

I needed my job.

My mother was recovering from surgery, my rent was late, and I could not afford to miss another paycheck.

But I needed something more than the hours.

I needed the little boy outside not to disappear before somebody asked why he was there.

“Emma.”

Luca’s voice brought me back.

“Yes, Mr. Moretti?”

“Bring me the drawing.”

Vanessa stood.

“Absolutely not. We’re having our engagement dinner, Luca. We don’t need to entertain every piece of rubbish the staff collects.”

I held the paper against my apron.

“It’s not rubbish, ma’am.”

Her face tightened.

“Excuse me?”

“Someone made it for you.”

The silence became uncomfortable.

Vanessa stepped toward me.

“Give it here.”

She reached for my injured wrist.

I pulled away.

Pain shot up my arm.

The paper slipped.

Before she could take it, Luca crossed the distance and picked it up.

“Enough.”

He unfolded it.

A little house.

A yellow sun.

Three people holding hands.

A tall man in black.

A woman in red.

And between them, a small boy with curly brown hair.

Luca studied the picture.

“Who made this?”

Vanessa folded her arms.

“Some child who came begging at the gate.”

Then she looked at my arm.

“And before you ask, Emma hurt herself at the west gate. Apparently she can’t open one without making a mess.”

My stomach dropped.

Luca slowly turned.

“The west gate?”

“Yes, darling. She caught her arm helping someone with luggage.”

He looked at me.

“Emma, show me your wrist.”

“It’s nothing serious, sir.”

“Please.”

The word surprised me more than an order would have.

I pushed back my sleeve.

Four dark finger-shaped bruises marked the inside of my wrist.

A narrow cut ran along my forearm.

Luca studied it.

“Who grabbed you?”

Vanessa laughed.

“Nobody. She caught herself on the gate.”

Luca did not look away from her.

“Those are fingerprints.”

Her smile vanished.

I lowered my sleeve.

“Mr. Moretti, please. I can finish my shift.”

“Did someone hurt you?”

My eyes filled.

I glanced at Vanessa.

She was no longer pretending to smile.

“Emma,” Luca said quietly. “You can tell me.”

I could not.

Not while the little boy was waiting.

Not while Vanessa still had the power to make sure he never came back.

Luca looked down at the drawing.

Then noticed the three words in blue crayon across the bottom.

OUR NEW FAMILY.

He raised his eyes.

“Vanessa. Who is this child?”

She laughed.

“How should I know? Emma apparently invited half the neighborhood into our home.”

Luca looked at me.

“Where is he?”

My hands shook.

Vanessa stepped closer.

“Luca, surely you’re not going to ruin our engagement dinner over some random little boy.”

“Then why are you so worried about a drawing?”

She said nothing.

Then smiled.

“Fine. He was lost. I told the driver to take him home.”

My stomach tightened.

That was not what she had told me.

And the driver had not left.

Luca looked toward his head of security.

“Daniel. Find out whether a child came through the west gate.”

Vanessa’s expression changed.

“That is completely unnecessary.”

Luca ignored her.

Then turned to me.

“Emma, you’re finished working tonight. Mrs. Carter will clean that cut.”

“Please, sir. I need the hours.”

“You’ll be paid for them.”

I tried to thank him.

Then I saw Vanessa’s phone beneath the table.

Her fingers moved furiously.

I knew who she was contacting.

The driver.

“Mr. Moretti?”

Luca turned.

“Please don’t let anyone leave through the west gate.”

Vanessa’s phone stopped moving.

Luca studied me.

Then Daniel.

“Close it.”

Vanessa stood so abruptly her chair scraped the marble.

“Luca!”

But he was already walking toward the doors.

Twenty minutes earlier, I had been certain I would lose my job.

Now I was terrified I had made things worse for a boy who had done nothing wrong.

His name was Oliver.

He had arrived shortly after four in a blue sweater carrying a little cardboard suitcase.

He had a gap between his front teeth.

And he held that drawing so carefully its corners were damp.

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

I had been collecting packages by the service entrance.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Is this where the engagement party is?”

I nodded.

His face brightened.

“Do you think she’ll like my picture?”

“Who?”

He smiled.

“My mommy.”

Then he showed me the drawing.

The woman in red.

The man in black.

The boy between them.

“That’s going to be us.”

I did not understand.

Not until Vanessa appeared.

The moment she saw Oliver, every trace of color left her face.

“What are you doing here?”

The boy ran toward her.

“Mommy!”

Vanessa looked toward the mansion.

Then grabbed his shoulders.

“Don’t call me that here.”

Oliver stopped smiling.

“But you said—”

“I told you not to come.”

His face crumpled.

I stepped forward.

“Miss Bellini, he’s just a child.”

She turned on me.

“Take him to the gatehouse. I’ll arrange for someone to collect him.”

Oliver reached for her hand.

“Can I give you my picture first?”

Vanessa snatched it.

“Emma. Take him away.”

He followed when she turned.

She spun around.

“Stay where you are.”

I reached for him instinctively.

Vanessa grabbed my wrist and pulled me away.

My forearm struck the iron gate.

The decorative latch tore my sleeve and cut my skin.

I gasped.

She barely looked at the blood.

“One word about this, Emma, and you’re finished here.”

Then she went back inside.

I helped Oliver into the gatehouse and found him a blanket.

He watched me wrap my arm with a towel.

“Did Mommy hurt you?”

I could not answer.

He looked down at the drawing I had retrieved after Vanessa dropped it.

“She’s probably nervous about the wedding.”

My throat tightened.

Later Vanessa returned, took the drawing, and ordered me back to work.

Now Luca was walking toward that same gatehouse with the paper in his hand.

Two guards stood beside a black SUV.

Engine running.

The driver looked uncomfortable.

Luca stopped.

“Where are you going?”

“Miss Bellini asked me to take a passenger home, sir.”

“What passenger?”

The driver looked toward the rear door.

“A little boy.”

Luca opened it.

Oliver sat in the back with his suitcase.

When he saw the drawing, he sat up.

“Hey. That’s mine.”

Luca crouched by the open door.

“What’s your name, buddy?”

“Oliver.”

“I’m Luca.”

Oliver’s eyes widened.

“Are you the man who’s marrying my mommy?”

Luca went completely still.

I stopped breathing.

He looked at the drawing.

Then at Oliver.

“Who’s your mother?”

The boy pointed toward the mansion.

“Vanessa.”

For the first time that night, Luca Moretti seemed unable to find words.

“Vanessa Bellini?”

Oliver nodded.

Then looked at his shoes.

“Is she mad at me?”

“Why would she be mad?”

“Because I came to her party.”

His lower lip trembled.

“I wanted to meet you. She said we could all be together after the wedding.”

Luca looked toward the dining-room windows.

Vanessa was still inside.

Still wearing red.

Still receiving congratulations on a perfect future.

He turned back.

“Come on, buddy. You’re not going anywhere tonight.”

He held out his hand.

Oliver did not take it.

Instead, he opened the cardboard suitcase.

He pulled out a neatly folded white shirt.

“Mommy bought me this.”

Luca waited.

“She said I could wear it when she brought me home.”

Oliver swallowed.

“Mr. Moretti?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to make her send me away again?”

Luca’s expression changed.

“Again?”

Oliver nodded.

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Then whispered the words that made Luca slowly turn toward the mansion.

“Mommy promised that after she married you, I wouldn’t have to call her Aunt Vanessa anymore.”