Frank carefully set his crystal wine glass on the table.

He didn’t look at Luca. He looked at Vanessa.

“Luca, your mother is exhausted,” Frank said smoothly, adjusting his expensive silk tie. “We are talking about a grieving widow and a confused child. Nothing was taken from Rebecca.”

Luca didn’t sit down.

“Frank, you’ve handled my family’s legal affairs for ten years. I asked you a direct question.”

The thirty-eight guests in the dining room were completely silent.

Vanessa stepped toward Luca, placing a delicate hand on his arm.

“Darling, please. Frank was just trying to finalize Michael’s estate. Rebecca has been holding onto assets that rightfully belong to the company.”

Luca looked down at Vanessa’s hand.

Then he gently, but firmly, removed it.

“What assets, Vanessa?”

Vanessa swallowed. “Just… paperwork.”

Teresa squeezed my hand so tightly my fingers ached.

“She’s lying,” the old woman whispered.

I looked at Teresa. Her eyes were fixed on Frank’s suit jacket.

“Mrs. Moretti,” I asked softly, “what did Lily say Frank took?”

Frank’s head snapped toward me.

“I think it’s time for the maid to leave the room,” Frank warned, his voice losing its polished edge.

Luca turned his fierce gaze on the lawyer.

“Hannah stays right where she is.”

My heart pounded against my ribs. I had only ever seen Luca Moretti as a quiet, brooding businessman. Tonight, he looked like a man who realized his house was on fire.

“Mom,” Luca said gently, kneeling beside her again. “What did Michael leave for Lily?”

Teresa’s voice shook.

“Before Michael died, he told me he secured Lily’s future. He said he put it in the family vault.”

Frank let out a forced, dismissive laugh.

“Luca, we opened the vault after Michael’s car accident. There was nothing inside but old deeds and corporate bonds. This is a fantasy.”

Teresa shook her head.

“Because Michael didn’t use the main vault.”

She reached into the pocket of her cardigan.

“He told me he bought a private deposit box. And he gave me this.”

Teresa pulled out a small, silver key.

The room gasped.

But it wasn’t the key that made Vanessa’s face turn the color of ash.

It was what was attached to it.

A heavy, tarnished silver rosary.

I recognized it immediately. It had been sitting on Vanessa’s vanity for the past three weeks. She had claimed it was a vintage piece she bought at an auction.

Luca stared at the rosary.

“Mom, where did you get that?”

Teresa’s eyes filled with tears.

“I found it in Vanessa’s bedroom this morning.”

Vanessa stumbled backward, hitting the edge of the table.

“She was snooping in my room! That’s my property!”

“No, it isn’t,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “That rosary belonged to my brother. He never took it off.”

Luca looked directly at his fiancé.

“How did you get Michael’s rosary, Vanessa?”

Before she could answer, Frank pushed his chair back.

“This is absurd. I’m leaving.”

“Sit down, Frank,” Luca commanded.

“I don’t have to listen to a senile woman and a maid,” Frank spat, reaching for his coat on the back of his chair.

As he grabbed the coat, something slipped from the inner pocket.

It hit the marble floor with a heavy, metallic thud.

Everyone looked down.

It was a solid gold pocket watch.

The glass face was cracked.

Teresa let out a strangled cry.

“Michael’s watch,” she sobbed. “He was wearing it the night he died.”

Luca bent down and picked up the watch. He turned it over.

Engraved on the back were the words: To Lily. My time is yours.

Luca looked at Frank, his eyes burning with absolute fury.

“The police told me my brother’s watch was destroyed in the fire when his car crashed.”

Frank backed away toward the door.

“Luca, listen to me—”

“Where did you get this watch, Frank?”

Frank looked at Vanessa.

And in that single, terrified glance, he gave her away.

“She gave it to me,” Frank whispered. “She told me to get rid of it.”

Vanessa screamed, “HE’S LYING!”

But Luca slowly opened the back casing of the pocket watch.

And what he pulled out made the entire room freeze.

It was a small, folded train ticket.

Dated for the exact night Michael died.

And the destination wasn’t home.