Chapter 2 - THE LITTLE GIRL WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
The first warning came before dinner was served.
My mother refused to wear her pearls.
It sounds insignificant until you understand something about Isabella Duca.
My mother had worn the same pearl necklace to every important family dinner for thirty-two years. She wore it when my father was alive. She wore it when my younger brother married. And she wore it when we buried him.
But that evening, she sat at the head of the dining table with her neck bare.
Vivien noticed immediately.
"Isabella, darling, where are your beautiful pearls?"
My mother looked at her.
For one brief moment, I saw fear in her eyes.
Then she smiled.
"I thought I'd give them a rest."
Vivien laughed softly.
"Well, we can't have you looking neglected at your own son's engagement dinner."
She stepped behind my mother's chair.
Isabella's fingers tightened around her napkin.
I watched.
Vivien reached toward her neck.
My mother flinched.
It was such a small movement that nobody else seemed to notice.
But I had spent my entire life studying the smallest movements people made when they were afraid.
"Leave her," I said.
Vivien stopped.
"Darling?"
"My mother said she doesn't want the pearls."
Her smile remained perfectly arranged.
"Of course."
She returned to her seat.
Across the room, Elena stood beside the service doorway.
Her face was pale.
And when Vivien looked toward her, Elena immediately lowered her eyes.
Three months.
That was how long Mia had said the threats had been happening.
Three months of my mother growing quieter.
Three months of Elena losing weight.
Three months of Vivien becoming increasingly involved in household decisions.
I had mistaken control for devotion.
That realization sat heavily in my stomach.
Dinner continued.
Vivien discussed wedding flowers, the guest list, and a charity reception she wanted me to attend.
I answered politely.
Then she mentioned Elena.
"I've been thinking we should hire more experienced household staff after the wedding."
My mother's fork stopped moving.
I looked at Vivien.
"Why?"
"Nothing personal. Elena is sweet, but she's distracted. That little girl of hers runs everywhere."
"Mia is three."
"Exactly. A large estate can be dangerous for an unsupervised child."
I set down my glass.
"Elena has worked for this family since before Mia was born."
"I know, darling. I'm simply concerned."
My mother spoke so quietly that I almost missed it.
"She takes good care of us."
Vivien turned toward her.
"Of course she does, Isabella. That's why we want what's best for everyone."
Something in her tone silenced my mother immediately.
And I understood that whatever Vivien had done, it had not begun with Elena.
It had begun with Isabella.
After dinner, I found Rocco waiting in my study.
He had a folder in his hand.
"Tell me," I said.
He closed the door.
"Elena's employment file was amended three months ago."
"By whom?"
"Vivien."
"She doesn't have authority over my employees."
"Apparently, someone granted it."
He placed a document on my desk.
There was my signature.
I recognized it immediately.
But I had never signed that authorization.
Rocco watched my face.
"There's more."
He opened another page.
"Three months ago, the security contractor responsible for the upstairs cameras was replaced."
"Who approved it?"
"Vivien submitted the request through your mother's office."
"Did my mother authorize it?"
"The paperwork says she did."
I stared at him.
Rocco lowered his voice.
"Lorenzo, your mother hasn't signed any household authorization in almost six months."
That stopped me.
"Why?"
"Because she told the staff her hands were troubling her."
I remembered.
Isabella had complained about trembling fingers.
She had stopped writing letters.
Stopped signing birthday cards.
Stopped playing the piano.
And Vivien had been the one arranging her appointments.
"Find out which doctor she's seeing."
"I already did."
Rocco handed me a business card.
Dr. Adrian Bellini.
I recognized the surname.
Vivien's older brother.
I looked up.
"She told me Adrian had moved to Switzerland."
"He lives twenty minutes from here."
I felt something cold settle behind my ribs.
Before I could speak, Rocco reached into his folder again.
"One more thing. Elena tried to resign eleven weeks ago."
"Why wasn't I told?"
"Because her resignation was withdrawn."
"By Elena?"
"That's what the record says."
He hesitated.
"But the signature doesn't match her original employment contract."
I looked toward the door.
Somewhere downstairs, Vivien was laughing with guests.
And somewhere upstairs, my mother was sitting alone.
"Keep investigating," I told Rocco. "No accusations. No warnings. Nobody confronts Vivien."
"And Elena?"
"Nobody touches her or Mia. Arrange protection they won't notice."
Rocco nodded.
Then I asked the question that had been bothering me since afternoon.
"Why would Vivien need Elena to tell me my mother approved of our marriage?"
Rocco looked troubled.
"Perhaps because your mother doesn't."
That possibility should have been obvious.
Instead, I had believed Vivien when she told me Isabella was simply struggling with the idea of losing her son.
I left the study and climbed upstairs.
My mother's bedroom door was open.
She sat near the window, folding a little red sweater.
Mia's sweater.
"Mother?"
She looked up.
"Lorenzo."
I sat beside her.
"Why didn't you wear your pearls tonight?"
Her hands stopped.
"I didn't feel like it."
"Look at me."
She did.
And I asked the question I should have asked months earlier.
"Are you afraid of Vivien?"
My mother stared at me.
Then her eyes filled.
But before she could answer, I heard small footsteps behind me.
Mia stood in the doorway.
She was holding something against her chest.
A photograph.
"Uncle Lorenzo?"
I turned.
She approached my mother carefully.
"Grandma Bella said I can show you."
Isabella closed her eyes.
"Mia, sweetheart—"
But Mia had already placed the photograph in my hand.
It was old.
The corners were bent.
Three people stood outside a hospital.
My mother.
My father.
And a young woman holding a newborn baby.
I knew the woman.
I'd seen her face in a photograph at Elena's apartment during a staff holiday visit.
It was Elena's mother, Sofia.
But the baby was not Elena.
I recognized the tiny silver bracelet around the infant's wrist.
I had worn that bracelet myself.
I turned the photograph over.
There was a date.
And beneath it, in my father's handwriting, seven words.
"Lorenzo must never know what we promised Sofia."
My mother covered her mouth.
I stared at her.
"What promise?"
She began shaking.
"Lorenzo, please."
"What did you promise Elena's mother?"
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
Then she whispered something that made every threat Vivien had spoken that afternoon suddenly more frightening.
"Your father didn't bring Sofia into this family to work for us."
She looked toward the open doorway.
"He brought her here because she was protecting you."
May you like
And before I could ask from whom, my mother gripped my wrist.
"Vivien found the other photograph," she whispered. "And if she gets the silver bracelet, she'll destroy everything your father tried to save."
