Chapter 2 - THE BLUE JEWELRY CASE AND THE WOMAN THEY WANTED SILENCED
“Alessandro, if Sebastian finds out I called you, he may never forgive me.”
His grandmother's frightened voice came through the phone.
“Grandma, tell me where you are.”
“Find the blue case first. Your father left something inside that Sebastian was never supposed to hear.”
A man's voice sounded behind her.
“Mrs. Romano, you need to finish your medication.”
“No,” she whispered. “Not again.”
The connection went dead.
Alessandro stared at the phone.
For three weeks, Sebastian had assured him their grandmother was recovering comfortably at a private rehabilitation center.
Now she sounded like a prisoner.
“Daniel,” Alessandro said to his security chief, “contact the facility. I want to know exactly when my grandmother was last examined by an independent physician.”
Daniel nodded.
“And my brother?”
“Find him. But nobody touches him until I know what happened.”
Grace sat near the fireplace, her injured feet resting on a cushioned stool.
She had never seen Alessandro look so frightened.
He was a man who controlled shipping companies, hotels, and businesses that powerful politicians preferred not to discuss publicly.
Yet one frightened elderly woman's voice had shaken him more than any threat.
“Mr. Romano?”
He turned.
“Your grandmother called me last Thursday,” Grace said.
Alessandro became completely still.
“What?”
“She asked me to photograph the necklace. She said the engraving was important because somebody had been asking strange questions about the family jewelry.”
“Who?”
“She wouldn't tell me.”
Grace hesitated.
“Then she asked whether I trusted Sebastian.”
Alessandro's expression hardened.
“What did you say?”
“That he'd always been kind to the staff.”
“And what did she say?”
Grace looked down.
“She said kindness and honesty aren't always the same thing.”
Alessandro walked toward his desk.
“Daniel, get the keys to Sebastian's office.”
Camille appeared in the doorway before Daniel could leave.
“You're seriously searching your own brother's office because a housekeeper remembers some ridiculous conversation?”
Alessandro turned slowly.
“Who told you we were searching his office?”
Camille stopped.
For one brief second, her confident expression disappeared.
“I heard you discussing it.”
“You were supposed to be downstairs.”
“This is my engagement party too, Alessandro. I have guests asking questions.”
“Then tell them the auction has been postponed.”
“You're making a terrible mistake.”
“Possibly.”
He stepped closer.
“But right now, Camille, I'm more interested in finding out why my grandmother is frightened than protecting your reputation.”
Camille crossed her arms.
“Sebastian handles her finances. Perhaps she simply doesn't understand what's happening.”
“My grandmother ran the Romano family foundation for thirty-seven years.”
“She's eighty-four.”
“And she's still my grandmother.”
He turned to Daniel.
“Let's go.”
Grace struggled to stand.
“Please, Mr. Romano. I want to help.”
Alessandro glanced at her bandaged feet.
“You've already done enough.”
“Your grandmother trusted me with those photographs.”
He studied her for a moment.
Then he nodded.
“Daniel, bring a wheelchair.”
Camille watched them leave.
Her hands were trembling.
Sebastian's office occupied the western wing of the mansion.
Unlike Alessandro's dark, formal study, the room looked almost ordinary.
There were framed sailing photographs, a half-finished crossword puzzle, and an old leather baseball glove on a shelf.
Grace noticed a photograph of two boys standing beside an elderly woman.
Alessandro looked about sixteen.
Sebastian couldn't have been more than nine.
Their grandmother stood between them, smiling.
“Sebastian kept that picture,” Alessandro said quietly. “Even after we stopped speaking regularly.”
“Why did you stop?”
“He accused our father of something terrible. I believed my father.”
Grace waited.
Alessandro didn't continue.
Daniel opened the tall cabinet behind the desk.
Inside were financial records, jewelry inventories, and three locked drawers.
The second drawer contained a blue velvet jewelry case.
Alessandro carefully lifted it onto the desk.
Inside lay the original diamond necklace.
Three tiny stars gleamed beneath the clasp.
Grace felt a chill.
“That's the one.”
Alessandro touched the engraving.
For a moment, he looked like a little boy remembering someone he loved.
“Grandma wore this at every important family celebration.”
He opened the lower compartment.
Beneath the velvet lining were a small digital recording device, a folded photograph, and an old gold pocket watch.
The photograph showed Alessandro's father, Lorenzo Romano, standing beside a younger woman in a cream-colored blouse.
Grace recognized her immediately.
Her breath caught.
“That's my mother.”
Alessandro looked up sharply.
“Are you certain?”
“Her name is Evelyn Miller.”
The photograph was dated September 2009.
Grace was ten years old that year.
Her mother had worked as an administrative assistant before leaving her career to care for Grace's grandmother.
She had never mentioned working for the Romano family.
Alessandro turned the photograph over.
Five words were written on the back.
Evelyn witnessed the original agreement.
Daniel examined the recorder.
“It still has power.”
Alessandro pressed play.
Static filled the room.
Then a man's voice spoke.
It was Lorenzo Romano.
“September seventeenth, 2009. This statement concerns Sebastian, the Riverside accounts, and the inheritance documents.”
Alessandro gripped the edge of the desk.
“I am making this recording because I have allowed a terrible lie to destroy my family.”
A long pause followed.
“Sebastian was never supposed to inherit a dollar from those accounts. Not because he betrayed us, but because—”
The recording crackled.
Then stopped.
Daniel tried again.
The same thing happened.
“The remaining portion has been erased or damaged,” he said.
Alessandro closed his eyes.
For seventeen years, he had believed Sebastian tried to steal money from their father.
Now his father's own voice suggested something entirely different.
Grace examined the pocket watch.
Its hands had stopped at 8:14.
Inside the cover, someone had scratched two letters.
E.M.
“My mother's initials,” Grace whispered.
Alessandro opened another folder.
Inside was an old financial statement concerning Riverside Residential Holdings.
At the bottom appeared a transfer authorization for forty-two million dollars.
The document carried Lorenzo Romano's signature.
Beneath it was another name.
Arthur Whitmore.
Camille's father.
Daniel leaned forward.
“Sir, Whitmore Residential still operates several private care facilities.”
Alessandro looked at Grace.
“What's the name of your mother's nursing home?”
“Willow Creek Residence.”
Daniel checked the corporate ownership records on his tablet.
His expression changed.
“Willow Creek is owned by a Whitmore subsidiary.”
Grace felt the room tilt.
Camille had personally arranged the discounted nursing home placement six months earlier.
She'd told Grace that the Whitmore family believed in supporting hardworking employees.
Now Grace remembered something else.
Camille had insisted on seeing her mother's full name before approving the assistance.
“Mr. Romano,” she whispered, “Camille knew who my mother was.”
Alessandro picked up the photograph.
“And apparently, my father did too.”
Twenty minutes later, Daniel returned with the rehabilitation center's latest records.
His face was grim.
“Your grandmother was transferred this evening.”
Alessandro stood.
“Where?”
“The facility claims she requested private transportation to another Whitmore property.”
“Who authorized it?”
“Sebastian's signature appears on the transfer.”
Alessandro reached for his coat.
Then Daniel continued.
“There's something else.”
Grace looked up.
“The same transport company received a second transfer order.”
“Whose?” Alessandro demanded.
Daniel looked directly at Grace.
“Evelyn Miller.”
Grace's heart began pounding.
“My mother?”
“Her room at Willow Creek is scheduled to be cleared before midnight.”
Grace grabbed the arms of her wheelchair.
“My mother doesn't even understand complicated paperwork anymore!”
Daniel placed the authorization on the desk.
Grace stared at the signature.
It was hers.
Except she had never signed it.
Alessandro leaned closer.
At the bottom of the document, beneath Grace's forged name, was a handwritten instruction.
Transfer both women together. No family visitors until further notice.
Grace looked at Alessandro.
“They're taking my mother because she knows something.”
He reached for his phone.
But Grace caught his sleeve.
Her voice broke.
“Mr. Romano, please tell me we can reach her before they do.”
Alessandro looked at the photograph of their parents.
Then at the forged authorization.
“We're going to Willow Creek.”
He turned to Daniel.
“Call the police. Preserve every record. And find out who's driving that transport.”
Daniel examined the paperwork one final time.
“Sir, there's a note about the receiving facility.”
“What does it say?”
Daniel swallowed.
“Both women are being transferred into the personal supervision of Arthur Whitmore.”
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And beneath that instruction was something even worse.
A medical authorization declaring that neither woman was mentally competent to refuse.
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