Chapter 1 - The Birthday Cake Nobody Was Supposed to See
“THROW THAT CAKE IN THE TRASH! THIS IS MY ENGAGEMENT DINNER, NOT A BIRTHDAY PARTY FOR SOME OLD HOUSEKEEPER!” THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 25-YEAR-OLD MAID IN FRONT OF FORTY DINNER GUESTS—BUT WHEN EMILY REFUSED TO LET GO OF THE CAKE, LUCA MORETTI NOTICED THE NAME WRITTEN IN BLUE FROSTING AND ASKED WHY THE WOMAN WHO RAISED HIM WASN’T AT THE TABLE.
“Put it down, Emily.”
Vanessa Bellini stood beside the dining table in a fitted red silk gown, staring at the chocolate birthday cake in my hands.
Forty guests watched beneath the chandeliers of the Moretti mansion.
“And?”
“She’s worked here for forty-two years. I thought we could sing to her after dinner.”
“You thought wrong.”
She reached for the cake.
I stepped back.
“Please, ma’am. I paid for the ingredients myself.”
Her smile disappeared.
“You're a housemaid, Emily. You don't make decisions about my dinner.”
My name is Emily Carter.
I'm twenty-five, and I've worked at the Moretti mansion for almost a year.
Mrs. Russo was the first person who welcomed me.
She taught me which rooms to clean, how Luca liked his coffee, and why nobody ever touched the old wooden rocking chair beside the library fireplace.
When my mother was hospitalized last winter, Mrs. Russo covered my shifts without telling anyone.
She never asked for anything in return.
So when I learned Vanessa had canceled her seventieth birthday dinner, I baked her favorite chocolate cake.
I thought one small celebration wouldn't hurt.
I was wrong.
“Get rid of it,” Vanessa ordered.
“But Mrs. Russo—”
“Mrs. Russo doesn't work here anymore.”
My heart dropped.
“What?”
“I dismissed her this morning. She's too old to keep up.”
Several guests exchanged uncomfortable glances.
“She’s lived on this property for thirty years,” I whispered.
“Then she's had thirty years to save for somewhere else.”
I stared at her.
Mrs. Russo's husband had died eight years earlier.
The little cottage behind the mansion was the only home she had left.
“Where is she supposed to go?”
Vanessa stepped closer.
“That's not my problem.”
Then she grabbed the cake.
I tried to hold it steady.
She shoved it against my chest.
Chocolate frosting smeared across my black uniform.
Someone gasped.
Vanessa pointed toward the kitchen.
“Clean yourself up. And don't come back.”
I stood there holding the ruined cake.
My eyes burned.
Then a man's voice came from behind us.
“Who told you to fire Mrs. Russo?”
Luca Moretti stood beneath the dining room archway.
Thirty-six years old.
Black tailored suit, dark swept-back hair, tattoos visible across his hands and neck.
He had returned from a meeting earlier than expected.
Vanessa immediately smiled.
“Darling, it's nothing. Emily's being dramatic about an employee.”
Luca looked at the cake.
Then at me.
“Emily, what happened?”
I swallowed.
“Mrs. Russo turned seventy today, sir.”
His expression softened.
“I know.”
“I made her a cake.”
He looked toward the empty chair beside the fireplace.
“Where is she?”
Nobody answered.
Vanessa touched his arm.
“Luca, I was going to explain everything after dinner.”
“Explain what?”
“She needed to retire.”
Luca slowly turned toward her.
“You fired the woman who raised me?”
Vanessa sighed.
“She was your housekeeper, Luca. Not your mother.”
The room went silent.
Luca stared at her.
“When my mother died, I was nine years old,” he said quietly. “Mrs. Russo stayed up with me every night for six months.”
Vanessa looked away.
“She taught me to tie my shoes. Took me to school. Sat through every baseball game.”
His voice tightened.
“And when my father died, she was the one who told me I was still going to be okay.”
I saw several guests lower their eyes.
Luca turned toward me.
“Where is she, Emily?”
I hesitated.
“She's sitting outside the kitchen entrance, sir.”
“Why?”
“She doesn't have anywhere to go.”
Luca went completely still.
“What happened to her cottage?”
Vanessa interrupted.
“We're renovating that part of the property.”
Luca looked at her.
“I never approved that.”
“Daddy's contractors are handling everything.”
“Your father?”
She swallowed.
“It's just a small cottage.”
Luca walked toward the kitchen.
I followed him.
Mrs. Russo was sitting on the back steps with a worn brown suitcase beside her.
She had been crying.
When she saw Luca, she tried to stand.
“Oh, sweetheart. I didn't want to interrupt your party.”
Luca knelt in front of her.
“Who told you to leave?”
She looked past him.
Vanessa stood in the doorway.
“Mrs. Russo,” Luca said gently, “look at me.”
The older woman's lips trembled.
“Your fiancée said you didn't want me here anymore.”
Luca shook his head.
“Never.”
Then Mrs. Russo reached for his hand.
“Luca, there's something else.”
“What is it?”
“Your future father-in-law came to my cottage yesterday.”
Vanessa's face went pale.
Mrs. Russo began crying again.
“He wasn't interested in the house.”
Luca frowned.
“Then what did he want?”
She looked toward the mansion.
“He wanted the old cellar opened.”
Luca's expression changed.
“That cellar has been locked since my father died.”
Mrs. Russo gripped his hand tighter.
“I know, sweetheart. I was there the night your father locked it.”
Vanessa suddenly stepped forward.
“That's enough, Margaret.”
But Mrs. Russo wasn't looking at her.
She was looking at Luca.
“Your father made me promise never to tell you what was down there.”
Luca slowly stood.
“And now?”
The old woman looked at Vanessa.
May you like
Then she whispered something that made my blood run cold.
“Now I think your fiancée already knows.”
