Chapter 5 - The Forged Watch And The Truth Inside
The gold pocket watch spun slowly on its chain, catching the light of the chandeliers.
Luca stared at it, the muscles in his jaw ticking wildly.
His father. Antonio Moretti. The man who had built their empire, the man Luca had worshipped. Had his father really sanctioned the murder of Sarah? Had he really handed his blessing to the woman who poisoned her?
“You’re lying,” Luca said, but his voice lacked its usual unshakeable certainty. The betrayal was paralyzing him.
Vanessa stepped closer, her confidence returning. She recognized the hesitation in his eyes.
“Am I?” she challenged softly. “You know he hated her, Luca. He thought her morality was a liability. He wanted a queen for his syndicate, not a housewife. He gave me this watch the night before he passed. A promise that I would take my rightful place beside you.”
Matteo let go of his father’s jacket.
The thirteen-year-old boy stepped forward, placing himself between his massive, terrifying father and the woman in the red gown.
“Grandpa didn’t give her that,” Matteo said loudly.
Vanessa glared down at the boy. “Excuse me?”
“He didn’t give it to you,” Matteo repeated, his voice remarkably steady. He looked back at Luca. “Dad, she’s lying.”
Luca blinked, snapping out of his shock. “Matteo, what are you talking about?”
“I saw her,” Matteo said, pointing a finger at Vanessa. “Last Tuesday. When you went to the city for a meeting. I saw Vanessa go into your private study. She used a silver key to unlock the bottom drawer of your mahogany desk, and she took the watch out.”
Vanessa’s face tightened. “You insolent little brat. You weren’t even home on Tuesday—”
“I had a stomach ache. The school nurse sent me back early,” Matteo shot back. “You didn’t know I was upstairs.”
Luca looked at Vanessa. The hesitation was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating fury.
“You broke into my desk,” Luca stated.
“He’s lying to protect his dead mother’s memory!” Vanessa snapped, clutching the watch tightly in her palm. “Luca, think about it. Your father loved me. He wanted this—”
“Actually, Mrs. Bellini,” I interrupted, stepping forward.
Both of them looked at me.
My heart was racing, but my mind was crystal clear. I spent every Thursday morning deep-cleaning Luca’s private study. I knew every inch of that room. I knew every object.
“Matteo is telling the truth about where you got the watch,” I said calmly. “But you didn’t steal Antonio Moretti’s pocket watch.”
Vanessa sneered. “I’m holding it right here, you idiot.”
“No, ma'am,” I said. “You’re holding a replica.”
Luca frowned, looking at the gold timepiece.
“Mr. Moretti keeps the real watch in a secure vault downtown,” I explained, looking at Luca for confirmation. “He told me once that the original has a scratch on the back casing from when his father dropped it in 1998. The one in the desk drawer is a decoy. A high-end replica used for display.”
Vanessa looked down at the watch in her hand. She frantically turned it over, rubbing her thumb across the smooth, flawless back casing.
No scratch.
Her lie collapsed instantly.
“You stupid, arrogant maid,” Vanessa hissed.
In a fit of blind rage, she threw the heavy gold watch directly at my head.
I ducked.
The heavy metal timepiece sailed past me and slammed into the marble pillar behind my shoulder.
The impact was loud.
The replica watch shattered.
The glass face cracked, and the gold back-plate popped entirely off, clattering onto the floor and skidding to a halt near Luca’s leather shoes.
But there were no gears inside the back casing.
No springs. No clockwork.
Luca looked down.
Tucked neatly inside the hollow back of the fake watch was a tiny, tightly rolled piece of glossy photo paper.
Luca slowly knelt down. He picked up the rolled paper, his large fingers careful not to tear it.
He unrolled it under the bright dining room lights.
Vanessa realized what it was. She let out a strangled gasp and bolted for the service doors.
“Marcus!” Luca roared.
The head of security stepped through the doorway instantly, blocking Vanessa’s path. He caught her by the arm, easily restraining her as she thrashed and screamed in her red silk gown.
Luca didn’t look at her. He just stared at the photograph.
“Dad?” Matteo asked softly, stepping closer. “What is it?”
Luca turned the photograph around so we could see it.
It wasn’t a picture of Vanessa and Antonio Moretti.
It was a picture of Vanessa, ten years younger, standing on a yacht in the Mediterranean. She was laughing, holding a glass of champagne.
And her arm was wrapped intimately around the waist of a man with slicked-back gray hair and a sharp jawline.
I didn’t recognize him.
But Luca did.
“Victor Rossi,” Luca whispered, the name tasting like poison on his tongue.
“Who is that?” I asked.
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“My former business partner,” Luca said, his eyes burning with absolute hatred as he looked at Vanessa. “The man who embezzled forty million dollars from our syndicate five years ago and vanished without a trace.”
TITLE: The Foreclosure Deed On The Kitchen Counter
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