Chapter 1 - The Watch in Mr. Russo’s Pocket
“Put it away.”
Vanessa Bellini didn’t look at the envelope.
She looked at me.
Ten thousand dollars sat between Luca Moretti’s dessert plate and my hand.
The engagement dinner had gone quiet.
Not completely.
A fork touched china somewhere near the far wall.
Ice shifted inside a glass.
But nobody was talking anymore.
Luca stared at the envelope.
Then at Vanessa.
Then at me.
“What is this?”
Vanessa smiled.
“Emma misunderstood.”
I swallowed.
“No, ma’am.”
Her eyes hardened.
Luca looked at me.
“How much?”
“Ten thousand dollars, sir.”
A man near the fireplace lowered his glass.
Luca leaned back.
“And what did you misunderstand?”
Vanessa answered.
“Nothing important.”
I kept looking at Luca.
“She paid me to say Mr. Russo left because he was drunk.”
Luca stopped moving.
“What?”
Vanessa laughed.
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
Luca didn’t look at her.
“Carlo Russo?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Carlo is here?”
“He was.”
“Where is he?”
I looked toward the front windows.
“Outside.”
Luca stood.
“What do you mean outside?”
My name is Emma Reed.
I was twenty-eight years old.
I had worked for Luca Moretti for eleven months.
And until that night, I knew Carlo Russo only as the old man who drove Luca’s daughter to school twice a week because Sophie liked him better than the younger security drivers.
He was sixty-eight.
Short.
Heavy shoulders.
White hair.
Always wore the same dark suit.
Always carried peppermints in his left pocket.
He had driven for Luca’s father before Luca was old enough to drive himself.
That afternoon, Luca told me:
“Carlo sits at the family table.”
I looked at the seating chart.
There was no Carlo Russo.
Luca took a pen.
Added him beside Rose.
“He’ll complain.”
“About sitting there?”
“About being invited at all.”
He almost smiled.
“Tell him I said he doesn’t get a vote.”
“Yes, sir.”
Carlo arrived at seven.
He wasn’t wearing his usual driver’s uniform.
Dark blue suit.
Old tie.
Polished shoes.
He looked uncomfortable.
“Emma.”
“Yes, Mr. Russo?”
“Where’s Luca?”
“Upstairs.”
“Good.”
He reached into his pocket.
Removed a silver pocket watch.
“Can you give him this?”
I stared at it.
“Now?”
“Before dinner.”
“Of course.”
Then Vanessa appeared.
She saw the watch.
Her face changed.
“Where did you get that?”
Carlo looked at her.
I looked at her too.
Because she hadn’t asked what it was.
She knew.
Carlo slowly closed his fingers around the watch.
“Hello, Vanessa.”
Her face went pale.
Not Miss Bellini.
Not ma’am.
Vanessa.
And not like strangers.
“Carlo.”
I felt something shift.
“You two know each other?”
Vanessa looked at me.
“No.”
Carlo smiled without humor.
“That depends what you call knowing.”
Her eyes hardened.
“Emma, go check the dining room.”
Carlo shook his head.
“She can stay.”
Vanessa stepped closer.
“What are you doing here?”
“Luca invited me.”
“I mean with that.”
She pointed at the watch.
Carlo looked down.
“It belongs to him.”
“No.”
“It belonged to his father.”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
Carlo’s expression changed.
“I know.”
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Vanessa said:
“You promised you’d gotten rid of it.”
Carlo stared at her.
“When did I promise you anything?”
She realized I was listening.
Too late.
Her face changed.
“Emma.”
“Yes?”
“Dining room.”
I left.
But I remembered.
People like me always remember the sentence that doesn’t belong.
You promised you’d gotten rid of it.
At seven twenty, I returned to the foyer.
Carlo was gone.
Vanessa stood alone.
“Where’s Mr. Russo?”
“He left.”
I looked at the family table.
His place card was gone.
“Why?”
“He’d been drinking.”
That didn’t sound right.
I had taken his coat.
Spoken to him.
He smelled like peppermint.
Not alcohol.
“He seemed fine.”
Vanessa looked at me.
“Are you a bartender now?”
“No.”
“Then don’t diagnose guests.”
I went outside.
Carlo was sitting on a stone bench beside the driveway.
His coat was buttoned.
His hands rested on his knees.
“Mr. Russo?”
He looked up.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Waiting.”
“For what?”
“Luca.”
“Mrs. Bellini said you left.”
He smiled sadly.
“I’m sixty-eight, Emma.”
He looked toward the gate.
“I don’t walk home from the Gold Coast.”
“Why aren’t you inside?”
He said nothing.
Then:
“Vanessa says Luca doesn’t want me at the table.”
My stomach tightened.
“That’s not true.”
Carlo looked at me.
I had said it too quickly.
He understood.
“He invited me?”
“Yes.”
“Personally?”
“He wrote your name on the seating chart himself.”
Carlo closed his eyes.
For a moment, he looked older.
“Then she’s doing it again.”
“What?”
His eyes opened.
“Nothing.”
“What is the watch?”
Carlo reached into his pocket.
It was still there.
He turned it over.
The back was engraved.
M.M.
Michael Moretti.
Luca’s father.
“Michael gave it to me the night he died.”
I stared.
“Why?”
Carlo looked toward the house.
“Because he was afraid Luca would find it first.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“No.”
He smiled.
“It doesn’t.”
“Then why give it to Luca now?”
“Because Vanessa is marrying him.”
I felt cold.
“What does Vanessa have to do with a watch?”
Carlo looked at me for a long time.
Then said:
“She knows.”
“Knows what?”
He shook his head.
“I promised someone I’d tell Luca first.”
“Who?”
Carlo didn’t answer.
The front door opened.
Vanessa walked toward us.
Her heels struck stone.
“Emma.”
I stood.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking on Mr. Russo.”
“I told you he was leaving.”
Carlo looked at her.
“You told me Luca wanted me gone.”
Vanessa smiled.
“You misunderstood.”
“No.”
“I said tonight wasn’t the right time.”
“For what?”
She looked at the watch.
“That.”
Carlo stood.
“I’ve waited six years.”
“And you can wait another day.”
“No.”
Her face hardened.
“Carlo.”
He stepped closer.
“Does Luca know where you were on March ninth?”
She went white.
I remembered the date.
Not because it meant anything to me.
Because Vanessa reacted as though he had struck her.
“Don’t.”
Carlo smiled sadly.
“That’s what I thought.”
Then Vanessa looked at me.
“Go inside.”
I didn’t.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Emma.”
Carlo touched my arm.
“Go.”
I did.
Five minutes later, Vanessa entered alone.
Carlo remained outside.
Dinner began.
An hour passed.
Then two.
Every twenty minutes, I checked the window.
Carlo was still there.
Waiting.
At nine fifteen, Vanessa stopped me near the pantry.
She handed me an envelope.
“What is this?”
“Ten thousand.”
I stared.
“For what?”
“Carlo is going home.”
“He’s still outside.”
“He will leave.”
“And?”
“If Luca asks, Carlo was drunk.”
“He isn’t.”
“Say he became emotional.”
“He didn’t.”
“Say whatever sounds kind.”
I stared at the envelope.
“Why?”
“Because Luca respects him.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
Her face became cold.
“You’re a waitress.”
“Housekeeper.”
“I don’t care.”
She pressed the envelope into my hand.
“You have debt.”
My stomach dropped.
“How do you know?”
She smiled.
“Everyone has debt.”
“You know mine.”
“No.”
“You know the amount.”
She didn’t deny it.
“Ten thousand dollars makes your life easier.”
“And yours?”
Her smile disappeared.
“Be careful.”
I put the envelope into my apron.
Then walked back into dinner.
At nine forty, Luca lifted his glass.
Before he could speak, Sophie looked toward the empty chair beside Rose.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Where’s Uncle Carlo?”
Luca frowned.
“Uncle Carlo?”
“He said he was coming.”
Luca looked toward the empty place.
Then at Vanessa.
“You told me Carlo canceled.”
Vanessa smiled.
“He did.”
I felt the envelope against my hip.
Sophie shook her head.
“I saw him outside.”
Silence.
Luca looked at his daughter.
“When?”
“Like ten minutes ago.”
Vanessa’s face changed.
Luca put down his glass.
“Outside?”
That was when I walked forward.
Placed ten thousand dollars on the table.
And Vanessa called me a cheap little liar.
Now Luca stared at the envelope.
“Carlo has been outside for two hours?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why?”
“Waiting for you.”
Vanessa laughed.
“He’s confused.”
Luca looked at her.
“Carlo has driven my family for thirty-four years.”
“He’s getting older.”
“He remembers Sophie’s school schedule better than I do.”
Sophie smiled faintly.
Vanessa didn’t.
Luca looked at me.
“Why didn’t he come inside?”
“Mrs. Bellini told him you didn’t want him at the table.”
His eyes became still.
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
Vanessa stood.
“I said this wasn’t the right night for whatever drama he planned to create.”
Luca turned.
“What drama?”
She hesitated.
Luca saw.
“What did Carlo bring?”
She said nothing.
I answered.
“Your father’s pocket watch.”
Luca’s expression changed.
“My father’s watch?”
“Yes.”
“He had it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He said your father gave it to him the night he died.”
Rose Moretti stood.
“What?”
Luca looked at his aunt.
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
Vanessa whispered:
“This is exactly why I didn’t want this tonight.”
Luca turned.
“You knew he had it.”
“No.”
I said:
“She recognized it before he told her what it was.”
Vanessa looked at me.
“You’re lying.”
“No.”
“She asked where he got it.”
“That means nothing.”
“And told him he promised to get rid of it.”
The room went silent.
Luca stared at his fiancée.
“You told Carlo to destroy my father’s watch?”
“No.”
“Emma heard you.”
“She misunderstood.”
“Then explain.”
Vanessa looked around the room.
“This isn’t the place.”
Luca’s voice became quieter.
“Apparently you’ve spent the whole night deciding where the place is.”
Nobody moved.
He looked at security.
“Bring Carlo inside.”
Vanessa stepped forward.
“No.”
Luca turned.
“Why?”
“He’s not well.”
I almost laughed.
Carlo Russo entered thirty seconds later under his own power.
Perfectly sober.
Perfectly steady.
He looked at Luca.
Then at the empty chair.
“Kid.”
Luca crossed the room.
“You’ve been sitting outside for two hours?”
Carlo shrugged.
“I’ve waited longer for you.”
Luca’s jaw tightened.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Carlo looked at Vanessa.
“I was told you didn’t want to see me.”
“That was a lie.”
“I know that now.”
Luca held out his hand.
“The watch.”
Carlo hesitated.
Then removed it.
Luca stared at the silver case.
“My father wore this every day.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you have it?”
Carlo looked around the room.
“Michael gave it to me at Mercy Hospital.”
“The night he died?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Carlo looked at Vanessa.
She whispered:
“Don’t.”
Luca turned.
“Why do you keep saying that?”
Carlo handed him the watch.
“Open the back.”
Luca pressed the latch.
The normal cover opened.
Then Carlo pointed to a tiny groove.
“Again.”
Luca used his thumbnail.
A second compartment opened.
Inside was a miniature photograph.
A young woman.
Holding a baby.
Luca stared.
“Who is she?”
Vanessa backed away.
Carlo watched her.
“You know.”
“No.”
“You knew six years ago.”
Luca looked up.
“Six years?”
Carlo nodded.
“She came to me before she ever met you.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“No.”
Luca stared at her.
“You told me we met at the Palmer dinner.”
“We did.”
Carlo laughed once.
“She met me nine months before that.”
Luca’s face changed.
“Why?”
Carlo pointed at the photograph.
“She wanted to know who the woman was.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
Luca looked at the picture again.
“Who is she?”
Carlo’s voice softened.
“Her name was Elena Voss.”
Rose dropped her fork.
Everyone turned.
Luca looked at his aunt.
“You know her.”
Rose said nothing.
“Aunt Rose.”
Her hands trembled.
“She worked for your father.”
“Doing what?”
Rose looked at Carlo.
Carlo answered.
“Depends which year you mean.”
Luca’s jaw tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“She started as his secretary.”
“And?”
Carlo hesitated.
Rose whispered:
“Michael loved her.”
Silence.
Luca stared.
“My father had an affair?”
Rose closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Vanessa suddenly said:
“That isn’t the important part.”
Luca turned.
“Then tell me the important part.”
She realized her mistake.
Carlo stared at her.
“You really did find Elena.”
Vanessa’s face went pale.
Luca looked between them.
“Find her?”
Carlo nodded.
“That’s what Vanessa asked me about six years ago.”
He pointed to the photograph.
“She wanted Elena’s address.”
“Why?”
Vanessa said nothing.
Carlo continued.
“I refused.”
Luca’s eyes narrowed.
“So how did she find her?”
“I don’t know.”
Vanessa whispered:
“I never did.”
Carlo looked at her.
“March ninth.”
She stopped breathing.
There was that date again.
Luca heard it.
“What happened March ninth?”
Carlo looked at Vanessa.
“She visited Elena.”
“No.”
“You were photographed entering her building.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“That wasn’t me.”
Carlo removed his phone.
Old photograph.
Vanessa.
Younger.
Dark coat.
Walking through the entrance of an apartment building.
Timestamp:
March 9, six years earlier.
Luca stared.
“This was before we met.”
Vanessa said nothing.
“You were looking for a woman who had an affair with my father before you met me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I needed to ask her something.”
“What?”
She looked at the watch.
Then at Carlo.
“What did my father leave in this watch?”
Carlo answered.
“Proof.”
“Of what?”
He looked toward Sophie.
Then at Luca.
“That Michael had another child.”
Silence.
Luca stared at the baby in the photograph.
“A son?”
Carlo shook his head.
“A daughter.”
Luca looked at Vanessa.
Her face was completely white.
Carlo continued.
“Born thirty-one years ago.”
Vanessa was thirty-one.
Nobody needed to say it.
Luca slowly turned toward her.
“No.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Carlo’s eyes filled.
“I’m sorry.”
Luca stared at the photograph.
Then at the woman he planned to marry.
“You thought Elena Voss was your mother.”
Vanessa whispered:
“I didn’t know.”
“You went looking for her.”
“Yes.”
“Before you met me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Vanessa began crying.
“Because my mother told me Michael Moretti was my father.”
Nobody moved.
Rose covered her mouth.
Luca stared.
Then Carlo said:
“That’s not what the watch proves.”
Vanessa looked at him.
“What?”
Carlo took the watch back.
Removed the miniature photograph.
Behind it was a folded strip of paper.
A birth record.
Luca read the mother’s name.
Elena Voss.
Then the father.
Not Michael Moretti.
He frowned.
Vanessa stared.
“No.”
Carlo’s expression changed.
“Michael wasn’t your father.”
She shook her head.
“Then why did my mother—”
“Because she needed you to believe he was.”
Luca looked at Carlo.
“Why?”
Carlo closed the watch.
“That’s what Michael discovered the night he died.”
Silence.
Luca stared at him.
“My father’s death was a heart attack.”
Carlo looked toward Vanessa.
Then at the ten-thousand-dollar envelope still sitting on the table.
“No, kid.”
May you like
His voice became very quiet.
“That’s just the version Vanessa’s mother paid me to remember.”
