Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN HIDDEN IN THE CADILLAC TRUNK
The crystal chandeliers above us seemed to dim as Rosa’s words echoed off the marble walls.
Sixty-three-year-old Rosa Marino stood trembling, but she didn’t lower her hand. She kept her finger pointed directly at Vanessa Bellini.
The engagement party had frozen.
Thirty-eight of Chicago’s most powerful people stopped breathing.
Luca Moretti didn’t blink.
He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t reach for a weapon. He simply turned his dark, terrifying gaze toward his fiancée.
“A woman in the trunk,” Luca repeated.
Vanessa’s flawless smile fractured. She took a step backward, her expensive silk gown rustling in the suffocating silence.
“Luca, she’s grieving,” Vanessa stammered, her voice pitching an octave higher than normal. “Rosa is hysterical. Frank died on the highway. We all saw the police report.”
“I didn’t ask about the police report,” Luca said.
He took one step toward Vanessa.
“I asked about the woman in the trunk of Frank’s Cadillac.”
“There was no woman!” Vanessa cried, looking around the room for support.
Nobody moved. Not a single guest spoke up to defend her. In the Moretti house, when Luca demanded the truth, you didn’t interrupt.
From the shadows near the kitchen doors, a young man stepped forward.
Matteo Moretti.
Luca’s younger brother.
He was twenty-eight, usually charming and reckless, but tonight his face was the color of ash. He looked at Rosa, then at Luca.
“Matteo,” Luca said softly. “Rosa says you were in the garage at midnight with Vanessa.”
Matteo swallowed hard. His hands were shaking.
“I wasn’t,” Matteo lied. His voice cracked.
Rosa turned to him. The grieving widow didn’t look frightened anymore. She looked like a woman who had nothing left to lose.
“You were there, Matteo,” Rosa said, her voice steadying. “Frank told me on the phone. He said, ‘Matteo is telling her we can’t just bury the girl.’ Those were Frank’s exact words.”
Matteo flinched as if he’d been struck.
Luca crossed the room in three long strides. He didn’t yell. He grabbed his younger brother by the collar of his expensive suit and slammed him against the mahogany dining table.
Plates shattered. Wine glasses tipped over, spilling red liquid across the white linen like blood.
“Who was in the trunk, Matteo?” Luca growled, his forearm pressing against his brother’s throat.
“Luca, wait!” Vanessa screamed, rushing forward.
Daniel, the head of security, stepped directly in her path. He didn’t touch her, but his massive frame blocked her completely.
Matteo gasped for air, his hands gripping Luca’s wrists.
“I didn’t kill Frank!” Matteo choked out. “I swear to God, Luca! He walked in on us! He wasn’t supposed to be in the garage!”
Luca’s jaw clenched. “Who. Was. The. Woman.”
Tears spilled from Matteo’s eyes.
“It was Isabella,” Matteo sobbed.
The name sucked all the oxygen out of the room.
Isabella.
Luca’s younger sister. She had been banished from the family three years ago for stealing from their father. She wasn’t dead, but she was forbidden from ever setting foot in Chicago again.
Luca slowly loosened his grip on his brother.
“Isabella is in Europe,” Luca said, his voice terrifyingly quiet.
“She came back,” Matteo wept, sliding down the edge of the table. “She called me three weeks ago. She said she had proof that she didn’t steal the money. She said Vanessa framed her.”
Vanessa lunged forward, her face twisted in pure panic. “He’s lying! He’s trying to protect himself!”
Luca ignored her. He stared down at his brother.
“If Isabella came back to prove her innocence,” Luca said, “why was she in the trunk of Frank’s car?”
Matteo looked up, his eyes wide with fear.
“Because Vanessa found out she was coming,” Matteo whispered. “Vanessa intercepted her at the train station. When I got to the garage... Vanessa had already locked her in the trunk.”
I stood paralyzed near the champagne table.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
Vanessa hadn’t just humiliated Rosa tonight. She had murdered Frank to cover up the kidnapping of Luca’s sister.
Luca turned slowly to face the woman he was supposed to marry.
Vanessa backed away until she hit the wall.
“Luca, please,” she begged, tears ruining her perfect makeup. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone. But Isabella is crazy. She would have ruined us.”
“Where is my sister?” Luca asked.
“I don't know!” Vanessa cried. “After Frank caught us... things went wrong. Frank fought us. He hit his head. I panicked. I took his keys and drove the Cadillac away to stage the crash.”
“And Isabella?”
Vanessa shook her head frantically. “When I crashed the car on the highway... the trunk popped open. It was empty. She picked the lock from the inside. She ran away.”
Luca stared at her. He didn’t believe a word.
He turned to his security chief.
“Daniel,” Luca said coldly. “Take Vanessa to the basement. Lock the door. Do not give her food or water until she tells you exactly where my sister is buried.”
Two massive security guards grabbed Vanessa by the arms. She kicked and screamed as they dragged her out of the dining room.
The guests were completely silent.
Luca looked at Rosa. The older woman was clutching her purse, tears streaming down her face.
“Rosa,” Luca said gently. “I am so deeply sorry.”
“Frank tried to save her,” Rosa sobbed. “My husband died an honorable man.”
“He did,” Luca promised. “And I will spend the rest of my life making this right for you.”
He turned to me.
“Claire. Take Rosa to the guest suite. Stay with her.”
I nodded quickly. “Yes, Mr. Moretti.”
I gently wrapped my arm around Rosa’s shoulders and guided her out of the dining room. We walked up the grand staircase in silence.
When we reached the guest bedroom, I helped Rosa sit on the edge of the plush mattress.
“Can I get you some water, Mrs. Marino?” I asked softly.
She shook her head. Her trembling hands unclasped her black purse.
“Claire,” she whispered. “Lock the door.”
I frowned, confused, but I walked over and turned the heavy brass deadbolt.
When I turned back around, Rosa had pulled something out of her purse.
It was a man’s heavy, silver watch.
The glass face was cracked, and dried blood was crusted around the leather band.
“The police gave this back to me today,” Rosa whispered, staring at the watch. “They said Frank was wearing it when he died.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said gently.
Rosa looked up at me. Her eyes were completely clear now. The hysteria was gone.
“Frank didn’t wear a silver watch, Claire,” Rosa said.
A cold chill ran down my spine.
She turned the watch over in her hands. She dug her fingernail under the back casing.
With a sharp click, the metal back popped open.
A tiny, folded piece of paper fluttered out and landed on the bed.
Rosa picked it up and unfolded it.
It was a bus locker ticket.
“Frank didn’t just call me before he died,” Rosa whispered, handing the ticket to me. “He told me he hid something. He told me that if anything happened to him, I had to find a girl named Claire, and give her this ticket.”
I stared at the numbers printed on the paper.
“Me?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Why me?”
Rosa reached into her purse again.
“Because Frank said you were the only person in this house who actually loved Luca’s daughter.”
Before I could ask what she meant, Rosa pulled out a wrinkled photograph and handed it to me.
I looked at the picture, and the air completely left my lungs.
It was a photo of Vanessa.
But she wasn’t standing with Matteo.
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She was standing next to the doctor who had treated my younger brother after his motorcycle accident. And in her hand, she was holding a thick stack of cash.
TITLE: The Photograph In The Widow's Purse
