Chapter 2 - THE CRAYON DRAWING
Luca didn’t move.
The silence in the study was so absolute that I could hear the faint murmur of the engagement party still happening downstairs.
He kept his eyes on the photograph of his former wife.
“She has something of mine,” he repeated. His voice was completely flat. Dangerously flat.
“That’s what Vanessa said, sir.”
He finally looked up at me. “My ex-wife, Elena, and I finalized our divorce three years ago. We divided everything. The properties. The accounts. We had no pets. We had no shared investments.” He stood up, walking slowly around the heavy mahogany desk. “There is nothing she could possibly have that I would care about.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. I clutched my apron, my fingers finding the second item I had hidden in my pocket.
“Sir…”
He stopped. “What is it, Olivia?”
“When Vanessa pulled me back into the guest room…” I swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “When she grabbed my shoulder, her purse tipped over on the bed. A few things spilled out. The investigator helped her pick them up, but they missed something.”
I pulled my hand out of my pocket.
My fingers were trembling.
I placed a folded, crumpled piece of paper on the edge of his desk.
Luca stared at it.
It wasn't a document. It wasn't a bank statement.
It was a piece of cheap construction paper.
He reached out and slowly unfolded it.
It was a child’s drawing.
Crayon. Clumsy strokes of blue and green. It depicted a tall man in a dark suit, a woman with long brown hair, and a little boy standing between them. Above the boy, written in wobbly, uneven letters, was the name: MATEO.
I watched Luca’s face change.
The cold, calculating Mafia boss vanished.
His breath hitched. The color drained from his face, leaving him looking like a ghost in the dim light of the study.
“Where…” His voice broke. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Where did she get this?”
“I don’t know, sir. But it was in Vanessa’s bag, tucked inside the folder with the photographs.”
Luca’s thumb brushed over the wobbly letters. Mateo.
“Elena told me she lost the baby,” he whispered. He wasn't talking to me. He was staring at the drawing, trapped in a memory. “Five years ago. She said there was a complication. She said he didn't make it.”
The room suddenly felt ice cold.
I realized what I was looking at.
Luca Moretti had a son. A son he believed had died before taking his first breath. A son his ex-wife had secretly raised, and who Vanessa had somehow discovered.
“Why would Vanessa hire an investigator to track down a child she knows nothing about?” Luca muttered, his eyes narrowing as the shock morphed into a cold, terrifying anger.
“Answer One, Open Two,” I thought. We knew what Elena was hiding. But why did Vanessa want to frame an affair?
“Because,” I said softly, “if Elena believes you’ve been cheating on her since before the baby was even born… she’ll never let you near him.”
Luca looked at me. His dark eyes were burning.
He picked up the drawing.
Then he flipped it over.
On the back of the construction paper, there was a stamp. Faded blue ink.
St. Jude’s Children’s Home. Chicago, IL.
Luca’s jaw tightened.
But that wasn't what made my blood run cold.
It was the silver bracelet I saw clamped around the investigator's wrist in the security footage—a bracelet I hadn't recognized until this exact second. It bore the crest of St. Jude's. The orphanage where I grew up.
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“Mr. Moretti,” I breathed. “That investigator… he doesn't just work for Vanessa.”
Luca grabbed his coat. “Show me.”
