Chapter 11 - THE MECHANIC’S SECRET
“Vanessa?” I breathed, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter. “You’re supposed to be in witness protection.”
She let out a dry, humorless laugh.
“I am. But I couldn’t leave without settling all my accounts. Luca took my life away. So, I’m giving you back yours.”
“What does this coat mean?” I demanded, my voice trembling. “Why do you have my father’s lighter?”
“Because your father didn’t abandon you, Claire,” Vanessa said smoothly. “He was murdered. And the man who ordered the hit is the same man who just bought your mother’s house.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I? Ask Luca about the mechanic who found a tracker on Marcus’s car in 2011. Your father found out Marcus was meeting with the feds years before I ever did. He tried to tell Luca.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “No.”
“Luca didn’t believe him,” Vanessa continued, her voice dripping with poison. “Luca trusted Marcus over a lowly mechanic. So, he let Marcus take care of the ‘problem.’ Luca signed your father’s death warrant.”
The phone line went dead.
I stood in the dark kitchen, the Zippo lighter cold in my hand.
Everything I thought I knew was unraveling.
Luca had been so generous tonight. Was it out of gratitude?
Or was it guilt?
Did he realize who I was when I applied for the job? Did he keep me close because he knew he owed my family a debt he could never repay?
I didn’t sleep that night.
At 6:00 AM, I drove back to the Moretti mansion.
The caterers were gone, the yard was clean, and the house was eerily silent.
I bypassed the staff entrance and walked straight to Luca’s private study.
He was sitting at his desk, drinking espresso, reading the morning paper.
He looked up, surprised. “Claire. I told you to take the day off.”
I walked up to his mahogany desk and placed the silver Zippo lighter right on top of his newspaper.
Luca’s eyes dropped to the lighter.
He froze.
The color drained from his face, just as it had when he saw his wife’s watch in the basement.
“Where did you get this?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
“Vanessa sent it to me,” I said. “Along with my father’s coat. The father who abandoned me fifteen years ago.”
Luca closed his eyes.
“Tell me the truth, Mr. Moretti,” I demanded, tears welling in my eyes. “Did you know who I was?”
May you like
“Yes,” he said heavily.
“Did you have my father killed?”
