Chapter 4 - THE DRAWING
“Give me that!” Vanessa hissed, lunging for me.
Before she could snatch the drawing, Luca intercepted her.
He grabbed her wrist, his reflexes lightning-fast, and plucked the paper from my trembling fingers.
He looked at the crayon drawing.
Mommy, Daddy, Leo.
He recognized Vanessa’s blonde hair. He recognized himself—the dark hair, the stern face.
But he didn’t recognize the little boy.
“What is this, Vanessa?” Luca demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
Vanessa’s bravado was gone. She was hyperventilating.
“It’s nothing! Just a charity case from the hospital. A kid who looks up to us!”
I looked down the dark corridor of the East Wing.
“Mrs. Bellini,” I said quietly, “why did you order security to lock the East Wing this morning? You said it was for renovations.”
Luca’s head snapped toward me, then toward the corridor.
“Carlo,” Luca barked. “Open the East Wing.”
Carlo, the towering underboss, drew a ring of keys.
Vanessa threw herself in front of the heavy oak door.
“No! Luca, please! I was going to tell you after the wedding! I swear!”
Luca physically moved her aside.
Carlo unlocked the door.
We walked into the dark, silent hallway.
At the very end was the old nursery. A room that hadn’t been used since Luca was a baby.
Luca pushed the door open.
The room was lit only by a small bedside lamp.
Sitting on the rug, playing quietly with a set of wooden blocks, was a little boy. He couldn’t have been older than six.
He had dark, unruly hair.
And when he looked up at us, my breath caught in my throat.
He had Luca’s exact piercing blue eyes.
Rosa gasped from the doorway, her hands flying to her mouth.
“Dio mio,” she whispered.
The boy looked at Vanessa.
“Mommy?” he said, his voice small and confused. “Did the party finish?”
Luca turned to Vanessa, his face a mask of pure shock and rage.
“Whose child is this?”
Vanessa was sobbing now, sliding down the doorframe.
“He’s yours, Luca. He’s yours.”
Luca staggered back. “That’s impossible. We’ve only been together six months.”
“He’s not mine,” Vanessa cried, shaking her head. “He’s Sophia’s. The woman you loved before me. The woman who died six years ago.”
Luca’s face went completely white.
Sophia had died in a car crash. A crash everyone said was an accident.
“She survived long enough to give birth,” Vanessa choked out. “My father found out. He hid the boy to use as leverage against you. When my father died, I inherited him.”
The little boy stood up.
He ignored Vanessa. He ignored Luca.
He walked straight toward Rosa.
He reached into his small pocket and pulled out a heavy, gold pocket watch.
“I fixed the ticking,” the boy said proudly, offering it to the old woman.
Rosa took the watch.
May you like
She popped it open.
And then, Rosa screamed.
