Chapter 3 - THE SHADOW IN THE DOORWAY
Marcus stepped into the closet.
He was thirty-five, four years younger than Luca, with the same dark hair but none of the commanding presence. Where Luca was a quiet storm, Marcus was a polished politician. He wore a navy tuxedo and an easy, terrifying smile.
"Hand me the box, Claire."
I clutched the cedar wood tightly against my chest. My hands were sweating.
"Mr. Moretti asked me to bring this to him in the dining room," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
"I know what my brother asked," Marcus replied, stepping closer. The smell of expensive cologne and scotch washed over me. "But you and I both know you shouldn't be involved in family business. You're just a maid."
He reached out.
I took a step back, my shoulders hitting the rows of Luca's suit jackets.
"Answer one question for me, Claire," Marcus said softly. "How is your mother doing? Her arthritis must be terrible in this Chicago cold."
My blood ran cold.
"How do you know about my mother?"
Marcus tilted his head. "I sign the payroll checks for the estate staff. I know everything about the people who work in this house. Including the fact that if you lose this job, your mother loses her apartment on Monday."
He held out his hand, palm up.
"The box. Give it to me, and you get a five-dollar-an-hour raise tomorrow. Refuse, and you’ll be packing your bags before dessert is served."
My mind raced.
If I gave him the box, he would destroy the note. Luca would never know that Vanessa wasn't having an affair with him—she was having an affair with his brother. And they were waiting for Caroline to die to take over the estate.
But if I defied Marcus, I was fired. My mother would be evicted.
I looked at the silver locket resting inside the box.
Then I remembered Emily.
I remembered the eleven-year-old girl standing in a maid's apron, crying because she thought she killed her mother by being too needy.
I slammed the lid of the cedar box shut.
"Excuse me, Mr. Marcus," I said.
I ducked under his outstretched arm and bolted for the door.
"Claire!" he hissed, lunging for me.
His fingers grazed the shoulder of my uniform, but I was faster. I sprinted down the carpeted hallway, clutching the box like a football. I didn't look back until I reached the top of the grand staircase.
Marcus hadn't followed me out of the bedroom. He couldn't risk causing a scene with twenty-eight guests downstairs.
I took a deep, shaky breath and descended the stairs.
When I re-entered the dining room, the heavy silence was still intact. Luca was standing at the head of the table. Emily was sitting in his chair, swinging her legs nervously. Vanessa was staring at her empty wine glass, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.
I walked up to Luca and handed him the box.
"Thank you, Claire," he said quietly.
He opened it.
I watched his eyes. I watched him expect to find a train ticket.
Instead, he saw the silver locket. And the folded hotel stationery beneath it.
Luca pulled the note out. He unfolded it.
For ten agonizing seconds, he read the single sentence.
“He doesn’t suspect a thing. Once she’s gone, the house is ours.”
Luca’s face didn't twist in anger. He didn't shout.
He just went impossibly, terrifyingly blank.
He slowly looked up from the paper and locked eyes with Vanessa.
"This is your handwriting," he said.
Vanessa looked up, her eyes wide with genuine confusion. "What? What are you talking about?"
"This note," Luca said, his voice dropping an octave. "It's your handwriting. But it's not addressed to me."
Vanessa stood up. "Luca, I swear to God I don't know what—"
"Who is 'he', Vanessa?" Luca asked, stepping toward her. "Who doesn't suspect a thing?"
Before she could answer, the dining room doors swung open.
Marcus strolled in, adjusting his cuffs. He smiled apologetically at the guests.
"Sorry I'm late to the toast," Marcus said smoothly. "Business call. What did I miss?"
Luca looked at his brother. Then he looked back down at the note.
He noticed the signature at the bottom.
An 'M'.
Luca's chest stopped moving. He looked at Vanessa. Then at Marcus.
Suddenly, everything clicked.
Caroline hadn't found a ticket with Vanessa's name and Luca's credit card.
She had found a ticket with Vanessa's name and Marcus's credit card. But to protect herself, Vanessa had told Caroline it was Luca's.
"You," Luca whispered, staring at his brother.
Marcus stopped smiling. He glanced at the note in Luca's hand, then shot a venomous glare at me.
"Luca, let's talk about this in the study," Marcus said, his tone suddenly serious.
"You brought her into my house," Luca said, his voice rising, vibrating with a rage I had never heard before. "While my wife was dying upstairs, you brought her into my house."
Vanessa began to cry, backing away from the table. "Luca, it's not what you think!"
"Mommy knew," Emily said suddenly.
Everyone snapped their attention to the little girl.
Emily reached into the pocket of her pink dress.
"Mommy knew it wasn't you, Daddy," Emily whispered. "She found something else."
Emily pulled her hand out of her pocket and set an object on the table.
It was a heavy, gold man's watch.
The glass face was cracked.
Luca stared at it. "Where did you get that?"
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"Mommy gave it to me," Emily said, her voice shaking. "She told me to hide it. She said she ripped it off the man's wrist the night she fell down the stairs."
Vanessa screamed.
