Chapter 1 - THE DINNER PARTY
“Put the phone away, Rachel. You're embarrassing yourself.”
Vanessa Bellini stood at the head of the dining table in a floor-length red gown, holding a champagne glass.
I was standing beside her with a silver serving tray.
My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
“Please, Mrs. Bellini. The hospital said my husband is being taken into emergency surgery.”
Vanessa glanced at the guests.
Then she smiled.
“Well, I'm sure the doctors can manage without you.”
A few people shifted uncomfortably in their chairs.
I felt tears burning behind my eyes.
“My husband asked for me.”
“Then he should have picked a better evening to have an accident.”
Nobody laughed.
Vanessa's smile disappeared.
“Now serve the lamb before it gets cold.”
My name is Rachel Bennett.
I'm twenty-six years old, and I've worked at Luca Moretti's Chicago mansion for almost a year.
My husband, Daniel, drives a delivery truck.
We've been married four years.
We don't have much.
A small apartment, a car that needs repairing, and a kitchen table we bought secondhand.
But every morning before leaving for work, Daniel kisses my forehead and tells me the same thing.
“Whatever happens today, we come home to each other.”
This morning, I'd forgotten to kiss him goodbye.
We'd argued about money.
Something stupid.
Something I couldn't even remember clearly anymore.
And now he was in a hospital.
I tried to steady the tray.
One of the glasses rattled.
Vanessa noticed.
“Oh, for heaven's sake. If you're going to cry, at least do it somewhere the guests can't see.”
“May I please leave after this course?”
“No.”
My throat tightened.
“Mrs. Bellini—”
“Rachel, I pay you very well.”
“Mr. Moretti pays me, ma'am.”
The words escaped before I could stop them.
Vanessa's face hardened.
She leaned closer.
“Then perhaps you'd like to explain to him why you're abandoning your responsibilities.”
I looked toward the head of the table.
Luca Moretti was speaking quietly with two business associates.
Thirty-eight years old.
Dark hair, tattooed hands, and an expression that rarely gave anything away.
In eleven months, he'd never once raised his voice at me.
But I'd also never dared interrupt his dinner.
Vanessa held out her empty glass.
“Champagne.”
I reached for the bottle.
My hand shook so badly I spilled a few drops onto the white tablecloth.
Vanessa slammed her glass down.
“That's enough!”
Every conversation stopped.
“Look at this mess. I have forty guests here, and my maid can't even pour a glass of champagne.”
My face burned.
“I'm sorry.”
“Your personal problems are not my responsibility.”
Then she pointed toward the kitchen.
“Clean that up. And if you walk out before dessert, don't bother coming back.”
I set the bottle down.
Very carefully.
Because I suddenly realized something.
If Daniel didn't survive, I would spend the rest of my life remembering that I'd chosen a dinner party over his final hours.
I untied my apron.
“I'm sorry, ma'am,” I whispered. “I have to go to my husband.”
Vanessa stared at me.
Then she laughed.
“Enjoy being unemployed.”
I turned toward the door.
“Rachel.”
Luca's voice stopped me.
I faced him.
“Yes, sir?”
He looked at my apron.
“Where are you going?”
Before I could answer, Vanessa smiled.
“She's having a little emotional episode. Her husband had some sort of accident.”
Luca's expression changed.
“An accident?”
I nodded.
“He's at St. Catherine's Hospital.”
“What happened?”
“They haven't told me everything. Only that he was brought in about an hour ago.”
Luca pushed back his chair.
“Why are you still here?”
I glanced at Vanessa.
She immediately crossed her arms.
“Luca, we have guests.”
He didn't look at her.
“Rachel. Why are you still here?”
My voice cracked.
“Mrs. Bellini said I'd lose my job if I left.”
The silence that followed was unlike anything I'd ever heard in that house.
Luca slowly turned toward Vanessa.
“Did you say that?”
“Darling, don't be dramatic. We're hosting an important dinner.”
He stood.
“Answer me.”
Vanessa set down her champagne.
“Yes. I expect employees to fulfill their obligations.”
Luca took off his suit jacket.
Then he walked toward me.
“Rachel, give me the tray.”
I stared at him.
“Sir?”
“The tray.”
I handed it over.
He placed it on the table, picked up my coat from the chair near the doorway, and held it out for me.
“You're going to your husband.”
Vanessa's mouth fell open.
“Luca!”
He ignored her.
Then he looked at his security chief.
“Bring the car around.”
I began crying.
“Thank you, Mr. Moretti.”
He gently touched my shoulder.
“Don't thank me for allowing you to be somebody's wife.”
Vanessa stepped forward.
“You cannot seriously be leaving your own dinner over a delivery driver.”
Luca turned.
And for the first time, his voice went cold.
“What's his name?”
Vanessa blinked.
“What?”
“Rachel's husband. What's his name?”
She said nothing.
Luca looked at the guests.
“She has worked in my home for eleven months. And the woman I'm supposed to marry doesn't even know her husband's name.”
I covered my mouth.
But before anyone could speak, Luca's security chief hurried back into the room.
“Boss. The hospital just called the security line.”
Luca frowned.
“About Daniel?”
The man nodded.
Then glanced at me.
“They said he regained consciousness for a few seconds.”
My knees almost buckled.
“Is he okay?”
“He's going into surgery now, ma'am.”
Luca put a steadying hand beneath my elbow.
“What did he say?”
The security chief hesitated.
“He asked the hospital to contact you personally, boss.”
Luca went still.
“Why would Rachel's husband ask for me?”
The man looked toward Vanessa.
And suddenly, every trace of color disappeared from her face.
“Because, sir, Daniel wasn't injured making deliveries.”
Luca's jaw tightened.
“Then where was he?”
The security chief swallowed.
“Outside your house. He was trying to stop someone from leaving through the back gate.”
Vanessa gripped the edge of the table.
Luca looked directly at her.
“Vanessa?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know anything about this.”
But the security chief hadn't finished.
“Boss, Daniel said the person he was trying to stop had something that belonged to Rachel.”
I stared at him.
“What could anyone possibly want from me?”
He looked at me with an expression I couldn't understand.
Then he said the words that made Vanessa reach for her chair.
“Mrs. Bennett... your husband said you need to ask Mr. Moretti what really happened to your baby three years ago.”
I stopped breathing.
Because Daniel and I had buried our newborn daughter three years earlier.
And I had never told anyone in the Moretti household that I'd ever been pregnant.
But when I turned toward Luca, he was staring at Vanessa.
May you like
Not with confusion.
With recognition.
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