Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO LIED ABOUT NEVER MEETING HIS AUNT
“Your father came home bleeding, and nobody told us?”
Luca's voice filled the kitchen.
Margaret flinched.
“I was trying to protect two little boys who'd already lost their mother.”
Luca turned away.
I could see how badly he wanted to shout.
But when he faced Margaret again, his voice was quiet.
“I'm not angry because you were afraid. I'm angry because everyone decided we couldn't handle the truth.”
Margaret began crying.
“I know, sweetheart.”
He knelt beside her.
“I love you. But no more secrets.”
She touched his cheek.
“All right.”
The sheriff collected the broken cabinet pieces, the photograph, and the watch receipt as potential evidence.
Luca insisted the original items be properly documented.
Daniel agreed to give investigators his communications with Edwin Sinclair.
By morning, we were back in Chicago.
The engagement decorations were still hanging in the ballroom.
White roses.
Gold ribbons.
A banner celebrating Luca and Vanessa.
But there was nothing left to celebrate.
Vanessa waited in the sitting room wearing yesterday's evening gown.
“Where have you been?” she demanded.
Luca didn't remove his coat.
“With my family.”
“Your aunt's property situation is becoming ridiculous. My father says Daniel authorized the transfer.”
“Using my forged signature.”
Vanessa crossed her arms.
“Daniel has authority over family holdings.”
“Not authority to impersonate me.”
She sighed.
“Luca, my father has hundreds of employees depending on this project.”
“And Margaret has one home.”
“That's not fair.”
“Neither is making a seventy-eight-year-old woman stand outside in the snow.”
Vanessa's cheeks reddened.
“I already apologized.”
“No. You explained why you thought it was acceptable.”
He placed Margaret's letter on the table.
“And I want to know something else.”
Vanessa glanced at it.
“What is that?”
“Did you know Margaret before last night?”
Her face went still.
“I told you. We'd never met.”
“Think carefully.”
“I don't appreciate being interrogated.”
Margaret entered behind us.
She'd changed into a warm cardigan I'd found in the guest room.
When she saw Vanessa, she stopped.
“March,” Margaret whispered.
Vanessa looked sharply at her.
Margaret continued.
“You visited me in March.”
The silence was immediate.
Luca turned toward his fiancée.
“Is that true?”
Vanessa's mouth opened.
Then closed.
“I went to the farmhouse once.”
Luca stared at her.
“You told me you'd never met her.”
“She barely let me speak.”
Margaret shook her head.
“You offered me seventy-five thousand dollars to move out.”
Vanessa looked away.
“I was trying to negotiate something reasonable.”
“You told me Luca wanted the property cleared before the wedding.”
Luca stepped forward.
“You used my name?”
Vanessa's composure broke.
“Because my father said the development couldn't proceed without that land!”
“Then your father should have spoken to me.”
“He tried! Your lawyers kept refusing.”
“Because Margaret owns the right to live there.”
Vanessa's eyes filled with frustrated tears.
“You have no idea what's happening to Sinclair Development.”
Luca waited.
She swallowed.
“The company borrowed against the Ridgeway project. If it collapses, my father could lose everything.”
“And that excuses threatening my aunt?”
“No.”
For the first time, Vanessa sounded genuinely ashamed.
But then she added, “I thought she'd accept the money.”
Margaret looked at her.
“Money doesn't replace the kitchen where I taught two grieving boys how to make breakfast.”
Vanessa couldn't answer.
Luca removed the engagement ring from its velvet box on the mantel.
He placed the box between them.
“We're not getting married.”
Vanessa stared at him.
“You're ending our engagement over a farmhouse?”
“No.”
His voice was steady.
“I'm ending it because you looked into an elderly woman's face, recognized her, and still ordered her into a snowstorm.”
Vanessa began crying.
“Luca, please.”
He didn't raise his voice.
“You can collect your things today. Marco will arrange transportation.”
Then he walked away.
I thought that would be the end of Vanessa's involvement.
I was wrong.
That afternoon, Margaret received a notice from Lake County.
The farmhouse had been classified as structurally unsafe following the break-in.
A contractor had requested permission for emergency demolition.
The inspection report claimed the building's foundation was failing.
“That's impossible,” Margaret said.
“My house survived eighty winters.”
Luca studied the paperwork.
The inspection had supposedly occurred at 6:20 that morning.
But we'd been inside the farmhouse until nearly seven.
No inspector had arrived.
Luca made several calls.
By evening, he learned that the report had been submitted through a contractor working for Sinclair Development.
The farmhouse was scheduled to be demolished at eight the following morning unless the order was stopped.
Luca's attorney filed for emergency relief.
But because the order cited public safety, the court required further review.
Margaret paced the sitting room.
“They're going to destroy it before anyone listens.”
I took her hands.
“Then we'll be there when the workers arrive.”
Luca looked at me.
“Natalie, you don't have to get involved.”
“Yes, I do.”
He frowned.
“Why?”
“Because somebody has to keep reminding people that this isn't just a property dispute.”
Margaret squeezed my fingers.
The next morning, we reached the farmhouse shortly after seven.
An excavator stood near the driveway.
Workers were setting out barriers.
Daniel was already there.
He looked exhausted.
“I told the contractor not to touch anything,” he said.
Luca gave him a hard look.
“That's the first useful thing you've done.”
At 7:45, the emergency court order arrived.
Demolition was temporarily prohibited.
The workers shut down their equipment.
Margaret began crying with relief.
But the victory lasted less than an hour.
While Luca spoke with the deputies, I received a message from my mother.
It contained a photograph.
A white envelope lay on her kitchen table.
Honey, the landlord says we have fourteen days to move. I don't understand. I've always paid my rent.
My hands went cold.
I enlarged the photograph.
The eviction notice identified the property owner's management company.
Sinclair Residential Holdings.
I stared at the name.
Then my mother sent another message.
The man at the office said they know where you work.
I looked across the snowy yard.
Vanessa's father wasn't simply trying to take Margaret's farmhouse.
May you like
He had found my mother.
And now he was coming for our home too.
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