Chapter 2 - THE TRUST FUND CONDITION
Grandpa Bellini set down his glass.
“Tell him,” he said quietly. “Because I'm not going to take the blame for what you arranged to happen to his daughter.”
Vanessa’s face turned the color of ash.
She stepped back, her red gown suddenly looking like a costume she was desperate to take off.
“Dad, stop,” she hissed.
Luca didn't move.
His eyes were fixed on the older man.
“What did I promise you, Bellini?”
The room was so silent I could hear the crystal chandelier clinking softly above us.
“The Chicago shipping routes,” the older man said, his voice flat. “Written into the prenuptial agreement. But the transfer was contingent on one specific clause.”
Luca’s jaw tightened.
“That Vanessa becomes a full legal guardian to my heir.”
“Yes,” Bellini agreed. “But if your daughter remained in the house, requiring specialized care... Vanessa wouldn’t have the legal authority to manage the estate’s assets. Sofia’s medical trust would supersede Vanessa’s control.”
I gasped.
If Sofia was sent to an institution, Vanessa would be the undisputed lady of the house.
And she would control the shipping routes.
Luca turned slowly back to his fiancée.
“You tried to lock my daughter in a Swiss facility for a shipping contract?”
Vanessa’s hands were shaking.
“Luca, be reasonable! She’s crippled! She’s going to hold you back—”
“Get out.”
Luca’s voice wasn't loud.
But it carried a lethal weight that made everyone in the room freeze.
“Luca, please—”
“Take your ring. Take your father. Get out of my house before I forget that I’m a civilized man.”
Vanessa burst into tears.
She turned and ran toward the foyer, her father following closely behind, his face pale.
The guests began murmuring, quickly gathering their coats. The engagement party was over.
Sofia gripped my hand, her small fingers trembling.
“Emily, did I do something bad?” she whispered.
I knelt beside her.
“No, sweetie. You were incredibly brave.”
Luca walked over and knelt beside us.
He didn't look like a mafia boss right now. He looked like a terrified, heartbroken father.
“Sofia, look at me,” he said, his voice cracking. “No one is ever sending you away. Do you understand?”
She nodded, burying her face in his shoulder.
I stood up to give them privacy, turning to clear the plates.
That’s when I saw it.
Vanessa had dropped her clutch on the floor.
It had spilled open.
A lipstick. A compact. And a heavy, tarnished silver key.
I frowned, picking it up.
It wasn't a house key. It looked like a safety deposit key.
But what caught my breath was the engraving on the metal.
It was the exact same crest that my late father had tattooed on his wrist.
“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, turning around.
But when Luca looked at the key in my hand, his face drained of all color.
“Where did you get that?” he demanded, stepping toward me.
“Vanessa’s purse.”
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He took the key, his thumb tracing the crest.
“This belongs to the man who killed my wife.”
