Chapter 1 - The Girl With the Microphone
“TAKE THAT LITTLE GIRL'S MICROPHONE AWAY, YOU IGNORANT LITTLE MAID! SHE HAS NOTHING IMPORTANT TO SAY!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 25-YEAR-OLD HOUSEKEEPER IN FRONT OF FIFTY DINNER GUESTS—BUT WHEN THE MAID REFUSED TO SILENCE HIS TEN-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER, LUCA MORETTI ASKED WHY THE CHILD HAD BEEN TOLD TO LIE ABOUT HER MOTHER. THEN AN ITALIAN BUSINESSMAN STOOD UP AND SAID, “MR. MORETTI, YOUR FIANCÉE HAS BEEN LYING TO BOTH OF YOU.”
“Emily, take that microphone away from her. Now.”
Vanessa Bellini stood beside the banquet table in a fitted red silk gown, glaring at the little girl holding my hand.
Fifty wealthy guests watched beneath the crystal chandeliers.
Ten-year-old Isabella Moretti wore a pale-blue dress.
Her dark curls fell over her shoulders.
And she was holding a small microphone she'd borrowed from the dinner host.
“Mrs. Bellini,” I whispered, “Isabella just wants to say something to her father.”
Vanessa laughed.
“Oh, sweetheart. Her father has important guests. Nobody came here to listen to a child.”
Isabella lowered the microphone.
“It's okay, Emily.”
But I knew it wasn't okay.
My name is Emily Carter.
I'm twenty-five, and I've worked at Luca Moretti's Chicago mansion for eleven months.
Isabella had spent the past three weeks practicing what she wanted to say tonight.
She'd written and rewritten it in her little notebook.
Then she'd asked me to help her memorize it.
“Daddy always listens when important people speak,” she'd told me. “Maybe he'll listen if I use the microphone.”
That sentence had nearly broken my heart.
Because her father loved her.
But Vanessa had spent months making the little girl believe she was an inconvenience.
And tonight, Isabella wanted to ask him one question.
A question Vanessa clearly didn't want him to hear.
“Emily!”
Vanessa snapped her fingers.
“The microphone.”
I swallowed.
“Please, ma'am. It'll only take a minute.”
Vanessa's smile disappeared.
“You're a maid. You don't get to decide who speaks at my engagement dinner.”
Then she grabbed the microphone.
Isabella reached for it.
“Please! I promised Mommy!”
The entire table went silent.
Vanessa froze.
Then she laughed nervously.
“See? This is exactly what I mean. Her mother has been dead for two years, and she's still making things up.”
But Isabella shook her head.
“No, she's not!”
Vanessa's expression hardened.
“Enough!”
She caught my apron and pulled me away from the child.
“Take her upstairs and apologize to my guests.”
I gently freed my apron.
“No, ma'am.”
Vanessa stared at me.
“What?”
“I'm not taking her upstairs.”
Several guests turned.
Vanessa stepped closer.
“You ungrateful little nobody. I can have you fired before dessert.”
I thought about my mother.
Her medical bills.
The mortgage payment I was struggling to help her make.
I needed this job.
But Isabella was crying now.
And I couldn't be another adult who told her to stay quiet.
“Then I'm sorry, ma'am,” I whispered.
Vanessa snatched my serving tray and slammed it against the table.
The glasses rattled.
“Get on your knees and apologize!”
That's when a chair moved at the head of the room.
“Vanessa.”
Luca Moretti stood.
Thirty-six years old.
Dark swept-back hair, tailored black suit, tattoos visible across his hands.
He looked at Isabella's tear-streaked face.
Then at me.
“Why is my daughter crying?”
Vanessa immediately smiled.
“Darling, Emily has been encouraging her to interrupt your engagement toast.”
Luca looked at Isabella.
“Sweetheart, did you want to tell me something?”
The little girl nodded.
Vanessa stepped forward.
“Luca, she's confused about her mother again.”
He looked at his fiancée.
“Then let her tell me.”
Vanessa stopped smiling.
Luca held out his hand.
“Bella, come here.”
Isabella slowly approached him.
He knelt beside her.
“I'm listening, sweetheart.”
Her lower lip trembled.
Then she whispered:
“Daddy, did Mommy really tell you she didn't want me?”
Luca went completely still.
“What?”
Isabella began crying.
“Vanessa said Mommy was leaving us before the accident because she didn't love me anymore.”
Luca's face changed.
“Bella, your mother loved you more than anything.”
The little girl looked confused.
“Then why did she ask that man to take me away?”
Silence.
Luca glanced at Vanessa.
“What man?”
Vanessa quickly interrupted.
“She's remembering a nightmare.”
But Isabella shook her head.
“No! He came to our house!”
I gently touched her shoulder.
“It's okay, sweetheart. Tell Daddy.”
Vanessa turned toward me.
“Emily, shut your mouth!”
Luca stood.
“Stop speaking to her that way.”
Then Isabella pointed toward the opposite end of the banquet table.
An elegant Italian gentleman sat beside Vanessa's father.
His name was Roberto Ferraro.
He'd been introduced as a wealthy business investor from Milan.
And until now, he hadn't spoken a word.
Isabella pointed directly at him.
“That man, Daddy.”
Roberto lowered his glass.
Vanessa went pale.
Luca slowly turned.
“Roberto?”
The businessman looked toward Vanessa.
Then he spoke quietly in Italian.
“You told me the child wouldn't recognize me.”
My stomach tightened.
Because I understood him.
My grandmother came from Naples.
I'd spoken Italian since childhood.
But Vanessa didn't know that.
She answered Roberto sharply.
“Keep quiet. The maid doesn't understand a word.”
I felt my hands go cold.
Luca noticed.
“Emily?”
I looked at him.
“Sir... Mr. Ferraro just said Vanessa promised Isabella wouldn't recognize him.”
Vanessa froze.
“What?”
I swallowed.
“I speak Italian, ma'am.”
Nobody moved.
Roberto slowly stood.
Luca looked directly at him.
“Why would my fiancée promise you that?”
Roberto hesitated.
Then answered in English.
“Because I met your daughter two years ago.”
Luca's expression hardened.
“Where?”
Roberto looked at Isabella.
“At your wife's request.”
Vanessa grabbed the edge of the table.
“Roberto, don't.”
Luca turned toward her.
“You told me you'd never met Elena.”
No answer.
Then Roberto said something that made Isabella start crying again.
“Mr. Moretti, your wife contacted me three days before her accident.”
Luca stepped closer.
“Why?”
Roberto swallowed.
“Because she was afraid someone was going to take her daughter away.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“That's a lie!”
But Roberto wasn't finished.
“She didn't ask me to take Isabella. She asked me to help keep her safe.”
Luca slowly turned toward his fiancée.
“Safe from whom?”
Roberto looked at Vanessa.
She was trembling now.
Then Isabella whispered:
“Daddy, Mommy told me not to tell Vanessa about the man.”
Luca knelt beside her.
“Why, sweetheart?”
The little girl looked toward the Italian businessman.
And her next words made him cover his mouth.
“Because Mommy said he was coming back for us.”
Luca went completely still.
“Coming back from where?”
Roberto reached for the back of his chair.
Then he looked directly at Luca.
“There's something your wife discovered about the Bellini family before she died.”
Vanessa whispered, “Please, Roberto.”
But Isabella wasn't finished.
She reached into the pocket of her dress.
And pulled out a small silver key.
The one she'd kept hidden for two years.
Then she placed it in her father's palm.
“Mommy said if that man ever came back, I should give you this.”
Luca stared at the key.
Because he recognized it immediately.
It belonged to a room in the Moretti family home that had been sealed since his father's death.
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And Roberto's next question made every person at the table turn toward Vanessa.
“Mr. Moretti... has anyone told you why your wife was inside that room the night before her accident?”
