Chapter 2 - The Signature On The Dotted Line
“And Vanessa—you’re going to explain why you forged my name to send my son away three days after our wedding.”
The silence in the dining room was absolute.
Thirty guests stopped eating.
Stopped drinking.
Stopped breathing.
Vanessa’s red silk gown rustled as she took a slow step backward.
Her flawless smile finally cracked.
“Luca, darling,” she started, her voice dropping to a soothing, practiced whisper. “You’re overreacting. I didn’t forge anything.”
Luca held up the brochure.
His dark eyes were terrifyingly calm.
“This is my signature,” he said.
“Exactly.”
“But I didn’t sign it.”
Vanessa swallowed hard. “You sign dozens of documents a day. Your assistant probably slipped it into your pile. I was just trying to help him, Luca. He needs specialized care.”
Matteo flinched, shrinking back against my side.
I put my hand on his shoulder.
He was shaking.
Luca didn’t look at his guests.
He didn’t look at his security team.
He walked slowly toward the table, picked up a heavy crystal water glass, and smashed it against the marble floor.
The sound shattered the tension like a gunshot.
Several guests gasped.
“My son,” Luca said, his voice deadly quiet, “does not need specialized care. He needs his father.”
Vanessa’s face turned bright red.
“I am trying to protect this family’s image!” she snapped, the facade finally breaking. “Look at him, Luca! He can’t even look your business partners in the eye!”
“Get out.”
Vanessa froze. “What?”
“The engagement is over. Get your things out of my house tonight.”
She stared at him, humiliated in front of Chicago’s elite.
Then, her eyes darted to me.
Pure venom.
“You’ll regret this, Luca,” she hissed.
She turned on her heel and stormed out of the dining room.
The guests immediately began whispering.
Luca ignored them.
He turned to Matteo, the anger instantly vanishing from his face.
“Are you okay?”
Matteo nodded slowly. “I ruined the dinner.”
“No,” Luca said softly. “You saved me from a terrible mistake.”
He looked at me.
“Claire, take him to the kitchen. Get him whatever he wants to eat.”
I nodded.
“Come on, Matteo.”
We walked down the long hallway toward the kitchen.
His shoulders were slumped.
But as we passed the small trash can where Vanessa had thrown his mother’s white carnation, Matteo stopped.
“I want to keep it,” he whispered.
I reached into the bin to pull out the broken flower.
But as my fingers brushed the bottom, I felt something heavy and cold.
Something metallic.
I pulled it out.
It was a silver locket.
The chain was snapped.
Matteo gasped.
“That’s my mom’s.”
I frowned. “How do you know?”
“Because she was wearing it the night she died in the car crash.”
I stared at the locket.
I turned it over.
Engraved on the back were three initials: V. B. M.
Vanessa Bellini.
Wait. No.
Vanessa’s middle name wasn’t M.
I pressed the small latch on the side.
The locket popped open.
Inside wasn’t a picture of Matteo’s mother.
It was a picture of Vanessa, standing next to the mechanic who supposedly checked the brakes on Luca’s wife’s car the day before she died.
And written on the back of the photo was one word.
Done.
Before I could speak, a cold hand clamped down on my shoulder.
I spun around.
May you like
Vanessa was standing right behind us.
“Give me that, you pushy little maid,” she whispered.
