Chapter 2: The Envelope His Father Hid
Vanessa Bellini had never looked frightened before.
Annoyed, yes.
Impatient, constantly.
Cold enough to make an entire room fall silent, absolutely.
But frightened?
Never.
Yet the moment her eyes landed on the envelope in my hand, something changed.
Her perfect expression cracked for half a second.
Then it disappeared.
“Emma,” she said softly.
Too softly.
I had learned something during my ten months working at the Moretti mansion.
The people who controlled the room rarely raised their voices.
They lowered them.
Because everyone else automatically leaned in to listen.
“Where did you get that?””
I looked down at the envelope.
Salvatore Russo stood beside me, holding his cardboard box against his chest.
“It belongs to Mr. Moretti,” I said.
Vanessa’s gaze shifted to Sal.
The old driver didn’t move.
But I saw his fingers tighten around the edge of the box.
“Sal,” Vanessa said, “give that to me.””
“No.””
The answer was quiet.
But immediate.
The hallway went silent.
Even the distant sound of laughter from the dining room seemed to disappear.
Vanessa stared at him.
For a moment, I thought she couldn’t believe he had refused.
Then she smiled.
Not warmly.
Not kindly.
It was the smile of someone who had just realized a person beneath her had forgotten their place.
“You’re leaving this house tonight,” she said.
Sal nodded.
“Yes.””
“So why are you making this difficult?””
“I’m not.””
His eyes moved to the envelope.
“I’m making sure Mr. Moretti receives something that belongs to him.””
Vanessa stepped closer.
“Everything that belongs to Luca goes through me.””
That sentence bothered me.
Not because she said it.
Because she believed it.
I looked between them.
“Mrs. Bellini,” I said carefully, “what exactly is in the envelope?””
Her eyes snapped toward me.
“That is none of your concern.””
I almost laughed.
Almost.
Because ten minutes earlier, this woman had asked me to secretly remove a man who had dedicated thirty-four years of his life to this family.
Now she was acting like I had crossed a line by asking why.
Sal slowly extended the envelope toward me.
“Miss Emma.””
My heart skipped.
“Sal…”
“Please.””
The way he said it told me this wasn’t about curiosity.
This was about trust.
I took it.
And Vanessa immediately reached for it.
I stepped back.
Her hand stopped in the air.
For a moment, we just looked at each other.
Then she whispered:
“You don’t understand what you’re holding.””
“No,” I said.
“I don’t.””
And for some reason, that seemed to bother her more than if I had argued.
The service hallway door opened.
A voice came from behind us.
“What’s going on?””
Every person in that hallway froze.
I knew that voice.
Everyone in the mansion did.
Luca Moretti.
He stood at the end of the corridor wearing a black tuxedo, one hand resting in his pocket.
He looked exactly like the man people described in newspapers and whispered about in restaurants.
Controlled.
Powerful.
Impossible to read.
But then his eyes found Sal.
And everything changed.
“Sal?””
The old driver lowered his head.
“Mr. Moretti.””
Luca looked at the cardboard box.
Then at the uniform folded inside.
Then at Vanessa.
His expression darkened.
“What is this?””
Nobody answered.
The silence said enough.
Luca slowly walked closer.
“Sal.””
His voice became quieter.
“Why are you carrying your things?””
Vanessa stepped forward.
“Luca, I was going to tell you—”
“No.””
He didn’t even look at her.
“Ask him.””
That was the first time I had seen Vanessa lose control.
Only slightly.
A tiny tightening around her eyes.
But it was there.
Sal looked uncomfortable.
“Mr. Moretti—”
“Don’t.””
Luca stopped in front of him.
“You don’t get to stand here with a box in your hands and call me Mr. Moretti like you’re a stranger.””
The old man looked away.
For a second, he looked like he might cry.
“I was told it was time.””
Luca frowned.
“Told by who?””
Nobody spoke.
And that silence was the answer.
Luca turned slowly toward Vanessa.
“Who told him?””
She lifted her chin.
“I did.””
The hallway became colder.
“You did?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
Vanessa sighed.
“Because someone had to make the difficult decisions.””
Luca stared at her.
“About my driver?””
“About your staff.””
“He isn’t staff.””
Vanessa crossed her arms.
“Luca, be realistic. He’s seventy years old.””
Sal looked down.
I saw the hurt before he hid it.
“He’s slowing down,” Vanessa continued.
“Your schedule is becoming more demanding. Your position requires someone younger.””
Luca’s jaw tightened.
“Did he say he wanted to leave?””
She hesitated.
Only for a second.
But Luca noticed.
“Did he?””
“No.””
“Then why did you tell him I wanted him gone?””
Vanessa looked away.
And that was the moment Luca understood.
The dining room upstairs was full of people waiting for the engagement announcement.
Powerful families.
Business partners.
Friends who smiled too much.
People who had come to celebrate Luca Moretti and Vanessa Bellini becoming one of Chicago’s most influential couples.
But nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Because Luca Moretti was standing in the hallway looking at the woman he was supposed to marry.
And he did not look happy.
“Vanessa.””
Her face softened.
“Luca, listen—”
“No.””
His voice was calm.
Which somehow made it more dangerous.
“You lied to me.””
She shook her head.
“I was protecting you.””
“From what?””
“From unnecessary attachment.””
The words hung there.
Sal looked up.
Even Luca seemed surprised.
Vanessa continued.
“You’re building something bigger now. You can’t keep holding on to people from your childhood just because they make you feel comfortable.””
I watched Luca’s expression change.
Not anger.
Pain.
Because she wasn’t talking about a driver.
She was talking about someone who had been there when Luca had nothing.
Someone who had stayed.
Someone who knew him before the suits, the money, and the reputation.
“You don’t know anything about him,” Luca said.
Vanessa stepped closer.
“I know he’s old.””
“No.””
Luca shook his head.
“You don’t know anything.””
The silence after that was heavy.
Then his eyes moved to me.
To the envelope.
“Emma.””
I straightened.
“Yes?””
“What is that?””
I looked at Sal.
He gave a small nod.
I handed it to Luca.
The moment his fingers touched the envelope, Sal closed his eyes.
Like a weight he had carried for years had finally been set down.
Luca stared at the handwriting.
His face changed.
I didn’t know whose name was written there.
But I knew he recognized it.
“Where did you get this?””
Sal answered.
“Your father gave it to me.””
Luca froze.
“My father?””
“Yes.””
“When?””
The old driver swallowed.
“The night before he died.””
The hallway went completely silent.
Luca looked at the envelope again.
His father, Antonio Moretti, had been dead for twelve years.
Everyone in the family knew his final days.
The hospital.
The doctors.
The arguments.
The unfinished business.
But apparently, there was something nobody knew.
Something Sal had kept hidden.
“Why didn’t you give this to me before?””
Sal looked at him.
“Because your father asked me not to.””
Luca’s voice dropped.
“He asked you?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
Sal glanced at Vanessa.
Then back at Luca.
“Because he said there was someone inside this family he didn’t trust.””
The color drained from Luca’s face.
“What?””
Before Sal could answer, Vanessa interrupted.
“That’s ridiculous.””
Everyone looked at her.
She laughed softly.
Almost convincingly.
“Luca, you can’t seriously believe this.””
But Luca wasn’t looking at her.
He was looking at the envelope.
At the handwriting of a dead man.
At twelve years of unanswered questions.
Slowly, he opened it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
His eyes moved across the first line.
Then stopped.
His entire body went still.
I watched his fingers tighten around the letter.
“Luca?”” Vanessa asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Luca, what does it say?””
Still nothing.
Then he looked up.
Not at Vanessa.
Not at Sal.
At me.
And the expression on his face made my blood run cold.
May you like
Because whatever was written on that page…
It had my name on it.
