He looked at the small silver chain resting against my collarbone.
“You said he gave you that ring on your wedding day.”
I nodded, my hands shaking as I touched the gold band.
“Did he give you anything else?” Luca asked. “Anything he told you to keep hidden?”
I hesitated.
Then, I reached behind my neck and unclasped the chain.
I slid the gold ring off.
But I didn’t hand him the ring.
I handed him the tiny, intricate silver key that had been hiding behind it, resting against my skin for six months.
Luca stared at the key in his palm.
His face drained of color.
“He told me it was a safety deposit key,” I whispered.
“It’s not,” Luca said, his voice barely audible.
He looked up at me, his dark eyes filled with absolute dread.
“Anna… this is the master key to my father’s old wall safe. The one in my private study.”
I stared at him in shock.
“The safe that hasn’t been opened since my father was assassinated ten years ago,” Luca murmured.
He stood up, pulling me gently to my feet.
May you like
“Come with me. Now.”
TITLE: THE ROSARY WRAPPED AROUND HER WRIST
Luca led me down the long, dimly lit corridor of the mansion’s West Wing.
My back ached with every step, and the weight of my pregnant belly felt heavier than ever, but I pushed through the pain.
We reached the heavy double doors of his private study.
Luca unlocked them, flipped the light switch, and locked us inside.
The room smelled of rich mahogany, old books, and expensive scotch.
He walked straight to the large oil painting of his late father hanging behind his desk.
Without a word, Luca pulled the painting aside.
Behind it was a massive, old-fashioned steel safe.
He inserted the tiny silver key I had worn around my neck for six months.
It slid in perfectly.
With a heavy, metallic click, the thick steel door swung open.
Inside, the safe was mostly empty.
Except for a single manila folder lying in the center, and a beautiful, antique wooden box resting beside it.
Luca reached in and pulled both items out.
He set them on his desk.
“Sit down, Anna,” he said, pulling out his leather desk chair for me.
I sank into it gratefully, rubbing my aching lower back.
Luca opened the manila folder first.
His eyes scanned the top document. I watched his jaw clench so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek.
“What is it?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“Bank transfers,” Luca said, his voice laced with a quiet, lethal fury. “Millions of dollars. Funneled out of the Moretti organization over the last two years.”
“By Vanessa?”
Luca shook his head. “By someone using a shell corporation in Milan. But Vanessa’s signature authorized every single transfer. She wasn’t just a gold digger, Anna. She was an inside operator.”
He flipped to the next page, and his breath hitched.
He slowly slid a photograph across the desk toward me.
It was a surveillance photo, grainy but clear enough to make out the faces.
It showed Vanessa sitting at a café in Europe.
Across from her sat an older man with gray hair and a distinctive scar running down the side of his neck.
“Do you know who that is?” Luca asked quietly.
I shook my head. “No.”
“That’s Victor Romano. The head of the Romano syndicate. The man who ordered my father’s assassination ten years ago.”
My blood ran cold.
“Vanessa was working for the man who killed your father?”
“Yes,” Luca whispered.
But it wasn’t just the man in the photo that made my stomach drop.
It was what Vanessa was holding in her hands.
In the photograph, Vanessa was holding a small, delicate object, passing it across the table to Victor Romano.
I leaned closer to the picture.
“Mr. Moretti…” I pointed at the object. “What is she giving him?”
Luca’s eyes darkened.
He reached for the antique wooden box he had pulled from the safe.
He flipped the brass latch and opened the lid.
Inside lay a stunning, heavy silver rosary.
It was intricately carved, the beads made of dark onyx.
“This,” Luca said, his voice thick with emotion. “This is the Moretti family rosary. It’s been passed down for four generations. It belonged to my mother. When she died, it was supposed to go to Michael’s future wife.”
I stared at the heavy beads.
“But Vanessa gave it to Victor Romano in the photo,” I said, confused. “How did it get back into this safe?”
Luca gently lifted the rosary from the box.
“Michael must have stolen it back,” Luca murmured. “He tracked down Romano’s people. He risked his life to retrieve our mother’s legacy, and he hid it here where Vanessa couldn’t find it.”
Tears filled my eyes.
Michael had known the truth about Vanessa. He had known she was a traitor, planted by their greatest enemy to destroy the Moretti family from the inside.
He had tried to warn Luca.
And Vanessa had killed him for it.
Suddenly, a sharp, searing pain ripped across my lower abdomen.
I gasped out loud, gripping the edge of the mahogany desk so hard my fingernails dug into the wood.
“Anna!”
Luca dropped the rosary and rushed to my side.
“The baby,” I choked out, a cold sweat breaking out across my forehead. “Something’s wrong.”
This wasn’t just a stress cramp.
The pain was twisting, unnatural, burning like fire through my veins.
Luca grabbed his phone and hit a speed dial number.
“Dr. Evans. Now. Get to my study,” Luca barked into the phone.
He dropped the phone and carefully scooped me into his arms.
Despite his massive size and terrifying reputation, he held me as gently as if I were made of glass.
“Breathe, Anna,” he ordered, carrying me toward the leather sofa in the corner of the room. “Look at me. Keep your eyes open.”
