Chapter 2 - THE WOODEN BOX
Vanessa didn’t answer his question.
Instead, she lunged toward the foyer doors, her red silk gown swishing violently against the marble.
“Tell the driver to leave!” she screamed at the security guards. “I’m the future lady of this house! I gave an order!”
None of the men moved.
They looked at Luca.
Luca didn’t even raise his voice. He simply nodded at his head of security, Marcus.
Marcus stepped out the front doors. Less than a minute later, he returned carrying a small, beautifully carved wooden box. Its brass hinges were black with age.
Vanessa’s face lost all its color. She backed away, her hands trembling.
“Luca, please,” she whispered, dropping her aggressive tone. “Don’t open it. I was only trying to protect you.”
“Protect me from what?” Luca asked, his voice dead flat.
He set the box on the nearest table. The forty wealthy guests standing in the foyer held their collective breath. Nobody dared to leave.
Luca unlatched the brass hook.
He opened the lid.
I stood a few feet away, still holding his mother’s ruined wedding dress against my chest. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
Luca reached inside the velvet-lined box.
He didn’t pull out a weapon. Or a will.
He pulled out a heavy, silver pocket watch.
Its chain was broken. The glass face was shattered, frozen forever at 11:42.
Vanessa let out a small, terrified sob.
Luca stared at the watch. His broad shoulders went completely rigid.
“This is the watch the police were looking for,” Luca said quietly. “The one my father was wearing the night his car was forced off the bridge.”
Vanessa shook her head frantically. “Luca, I can explain—”
“They never found it,” Luca continued, turning the heavy silver object in his palm. “Because whoever ran him off the road took it as a trophy.”
He looked at Vanessa.
“Why was it in my mother’s hidden box?”
Vanessa swallowed hard. “Your mother found it, Luca. She figured it out before she died.”
“Figured what out?”
Vanessa pointed a shaking finger at the watch. “Look at the engraving on the back. It isn’t your father’s watch. He lost his years ago. The man wearing that watch the night he died... was driving the car that hit him.”
Luca turned the watch over.
I saw his eyes widen.
I expected him to read a Bellini family name. I expected Vanessa’s father to be the killer.
But Luca’s gaze snapped up, bypassing Vanessa entirely.
He looked directly at me.
“Emma,” he said, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper.
“Yes, sir?” my voice scratched.
He held the watch out.
Engraved on the tarnished silver back were three words.
May you like
To Arthur Sullivan.
My father’s name.
