Chapter 10 - THE SECOND CHAIR
The autumn wind whipped across the porch, carrying the scent of dry leaves and impending rain.
Luca didn't invite the woman in immediately. He just stared at the identical blue chair in her hands.
"Where did you get that?" Luca asked, his voice guarded.
The woman, Sarah, gripped the chair tighter. "I bought it at an estate sale twenty-five years ago. In a wealthy neighborhood on the North Shore. The seller said it belonged to a family that was clearing out a nursery."
Luca's jaw tightened. "My family."
"May I come in?" Sarah asked, glancing nervously over her shoulder toward the long, empty driveway. "Please. I don't think I was followed, but I can't be sure."
Luca stepped aside.
I closed the heavy oak door behind her, locking the deadbolt.
Leo walked into the foyer, holding a napkin. When he saw the blue chair, he froze.
"Another one?" Leo asked, confused.
Sarah placed the chair gently on the marble floor of the foyer.
Up close, I could see it wasn't just identical in color. It had the same intricate carvings on the backrest, the same slight wear on the armrests.
"My daughter loved this chair," Sarah said softly, touching the painted wood. "She sat in it every day until she outgrew it. When she went off to college, I put it in the attic."
"Why bring it here now?" I asked.
Sarah looked at me. "Because two days ago, I decided to donate it. I was wiping it down, and I noticed something strange about the bottom."
She tipped the little chair over on its side.
Unlike the first chair, the hiding place wasn't inside a hollowed spindle.
Attached to the underside of the solid wooden seat was a small, flat metal lockbox. It was bolted directly into the wood, painted blue to blend in perfectly.
"It's locked," Sarah said. "I tried to pry it open, but it's reinforced steel. I found a faint engraving on the metal: E.M."
"Elena Moretti," Luca whispered.
"I saw the news about Arthur Bellini's arrest," Sarah continued. "I saw the mention of the Moretti estate. I put the pieces together and came straight here."
Luca knelt beside the chair. He traced his fingers over the small metal box.
There was a tiny keyhole.
Crescent-moon shaped.
Answer one: Elena Moretti hadn't just hidden proof of her stolen son. She had hidden something else.
Open two: Did the key from the bank vault fit this box? And who was following Sarah?
"Emma," Luca said, looking up at me. "Get the silver key from my study."
I ran down the hall, my heels clicking on the hardwood. I grabbed the tarnished silver key from Luca's desk drawer and sprinted back.
I handed it to him.
Luca inserted the key into the small lockbox beneath the chair.
It fit perfectly.
He turned it. A sharp click echoed in the quiet foyer.
Luca pulled the metal door open.
Inside was a single, sealed envelope.
The paper was thick, aged parchment. On the front, written in elegant, looping cursive, were three words:
For my children.
Luca’s hand shook as he took the envelope.
He broke the wax seal and pulled out a letter.
He read it in silence. As his eyes scanned the page, his breathing became shallow. The color vanished from his cheeks completely.
"Luca?" Leo asked, stepping closer. "What does it say?"
Luca didn't answer. He handed the letter to Leo.
Leo read it aloud, his voice trembling.
"My dearest Luca and Leo. If you are reading this, it means I am gone, and the truth has finally found you. Arthur Bellini forced me to give up my firstborn. I spent my life looking for him. But Arthur didn't just take my son."
Leo stopped reading. He looked at Luca, terrified.
"Keep reading," Luca commanded softly.
"Arthur demanded collateral. He knew that if I ever found Leo, I would destroy him. So, to ensure my silence, he forced me to sign over the deed to the one place that holds the real power of the Moretti family."
"The lake house," Luca breathed, looking at me.
My heart skipped a beat. The Moretti Lake House was a legendary estate in Wisconsin, supposedly sold off decades ago.
Leo continued reading.
"The company shares are meaningless. The true wealth of our family—the original bearer bonds and the unpatented blueprints your grandfather designed—are hidden in the walls of the lake house. Arthur has owned the property for twenty years, but he doesn't know what's inside. He just wanted it to hurt me."
The letter ended with a final chilling sentence.
"If Arthur ever falls, his contingency plan will trigger. He left instructions for his men to burn the lake house to the ground to destroy our legacy."
Suddenly, Sarah’s phone buzzed in her pocket.
She pulled it out, looked at the screen, and gasped.
"It's a news alert," she said, her voice shaking.
She turned the screen toward us.
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The headline read: BREAKING: ARTHUR BELLINI FOUND DEAD IN FEDERAL HOLDING CELL. SUSPECTED POISONING.
Cliffhanger: Arthur was dead, the contingency was triggered, and the lake house was about to burn.
