Chapter 7 - THE VELVET BOX
The police took an hour to clear the house.
The guests were sent home. The crime scene was secured.
The grand foyer, once a nightmare of violence and betrayal, was now quiet.
Luca had ushered me, Leo, and my mother into his private study. He ordered Marcus to bring tea and blankets.
For the first time all evening, I wasn’t a maid. I was sitting on a plush leather sofa, wrapped in a cashmere throw, with my family safe beside me.
Luca sat opposite us. He couldn’t take his eyes off Leo.
“I always knew there was something different about you,” my mother whispered, looking at Leo with tears in her eyes. “You had Arthur’s gentle heart, but you had Maria’s stubborn fire.”
Leo wiped his eyes. “You’re still my mom. Always.”
Luca leaned forward. “You will never have to worry about anything ever again. Both of you.” He looked at me. “Emma. You’ve been working yourself to the bone in this house. Scrubbing floors while my fiancée humiliated you.”
“I needed the money, sir,” I said softly.
“Don’t call me sir,” Luca said. His voice was incredibly gentle. “Never again.”
He reached into his jacket pocket.
He pulled out the small velvet jewelry box I had seen earlier.
My heart skipped a beat. Was he proposing? To me? The maid?
Luca opened the box.
Inside was a key. An old, ornate brass key.
“Before Vanessa tried to destroy my mother’s things,” Luca said, “I went to the bank. My mother left a secondary vault. She told the lawyers it could only be opened on the day my engagement was broken.”
I stared at the key. “She knew you would break it off?”
“She knew Vanessa was poison,” my mother agreed softly. “Maria always said, the right woman for Luca would be someone who valued the history of the family over its wealth.”
Luca looked at me.
“I need you to come with me to the vault tomorrow, Emma,” Luca said.
“Me? Why?”
“Because,” Luca said, turning the key over in his fingers. “The vault isn’t in my name.”
He handed the key to me.
Engraved on the brass bow was a single letter: S.
“It’s in your mother’s name,” Luca said. “And she made me swear, if the truth ever came out, I was to give it to you.”
I looked at my mother. She looked just as shocked as I was.
“I don’t know anything about a vault,” my mother said, bewildered.
Before we could ask another question, the study doors opened.
It was Isabella. Luca’s younger sister.
She was twenty-four, beautiful, and completely out of breath. She had rushed over from her apartment in the city as soon as she heard the news.
She ran into Luca’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably.
Then she turned and saw Leo.
The family reunion was beautiful, messy, and loud.
But as I stood up to give them space, my hand brushed against my apron pocket.
I felt a piece of stiff cardstock.
I frowned. I pulled it out.
It was a photograph. But it wasn’t from the wooden box.
It was a picture of my mother, twenty years ago. She was holding a baby.
But standing next to her wasn’t my father, Arthur.
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It was Victor Bellini.
And Victor had his arm wrapped affectionately around my mother’s waist.
