Chapter 1 - The Woman Who Called Him Anthony
The moment the mafia boss’s fiancée called me “a useless little maid,” I stepped between him and the woman she was having thrown out—because I recognized the name she was calling him.
“Get that woman out of my house!”
Vanessa Bellini’s voice echoed through the dining room just as I stepped in front of two security guards.
Behind me stood an elderly woman in a faded brown coat, clutching a small birthday cake wrapped in plastic.
Thirty guests turned to stare.
And at the head of the table, Luca Moretti slowly lowered his wineglass.
“Emma. What’s going on?”
Before I could answer, Vanessa grabbed my arm.
“She’s a stranger who wandered in through the service entrance. And apparently, our housekeeper thinks she gets to decide who stays.”
I pulled my arm free.
“Sir, she says she knows you.”
Vanessa laughed.
“Of course she does. Half of Chicago claims to know Luca Moretti.”
But the elderly woman wasn’t looking at Vanessa.
She was staring directly at Luca.
“Little Anthony?”
Luca went completely still.
My name is Emma Reed.
I was twenty-eight, worked as a housekeeper at Luca Moretti’s Chicago mansion, and had never seen anyone address him by a name other than Luca.
Until tonight.
The woman had arrived twenty minutes earlier, carrying a grocery-store birthday cake and wearing shoes that were nearly worn through.
She asked whether Anthony was home.
I told her nobody by that name lived there.
She looked disappointed.
Then she showed me an old photograph.
A little boy, perhaps six years old, standing beside a woman in a flowered apron.
On the back were three words.
Anthony. My boy.
Before I could ask another question, Vanessa appeared.
The moment she saw the photograph, her smile disappeared.
“Where did you get that?”
The elderly woman looked confused.
“It belongs to me.”
Vanessa ordered her to leave.
When I tried to explain, she threatened to have me fired.
So I did the one thing a housekeeper was never supposed to do during Luca Moretti’s engagement dinner.
I brought the woman into the dining room myself.
And now, watching Luca stare at her, I realized I might have uncovered something nobody in that house wanted him to know.
Vanessa stepped between them.
“Darling, don’t listen to her. She’s obviously confused.”
The woman lowered her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I thought you might remember me.”
Luca stood.
“What did you call me?”
She swallowed.
“Anthony.”
He stared at her.
Nobody spoke.
Then he asked a question so quietly that I barely heard it.
“Who are you?”
The woman’s hands began to tremble.
“My name is Margaret Ellis.”
Vanessa immediately turned toward the guards.
“Remove her.”
Luca raised one hand.
“Don’t touch her.”
Vanessa froze.
He looked at Margaret again.
“Emma. Bring this woman a chair.”
I hurried to the nearest empty seat.
But Margaret shook her head.
“I don’t want to cause trouble. I just wanted to see you once.”
Then she reached into her coat pocket.
And removed a small red toy car.
One of its wheels was missing.
Luca stopped walking.
For the first time since I’d worked in his house, the man everyone feared looked as though he had forgotten how to breathe.
“Where did you get that?”
Margaret smiled through her tears.
“You wouldn’t sleep without it.”
Luca slowly took it.
He turned it over in his hands.
Then he looked at Margaret.
“I remember a kitchen.”
She nodded.
“Yellow curtains.”
His voice dropped.
“And a dog named Charlie.”
Margaret covered her mouth.
“Oh, Anthony.”
A few guests exchanged stunned looks.
Vanessa suddenly stepped forward.
“This is ridiculous! His name is Luca Moretti. His parents raised him here in Chicago.”
Margaret looked at her.
“I know what they told him.”
The room fell silent.
Luca turned toward Vanessa.
“What does she mean?”
Vanessa’s eyes filled with tears.
“Luca, your father explained all of this to me before he died.”
He stared at her.
“My father?”
She nodded quickly.
“He made me promise never to let anyone bring up your childhood.”
I felt a chill.
Because Margaret had told me something different when she first arrived.
She hadn’t come looking for Luca Moretti.
She had come looking for the little boy she’d raised for six years before he disappeared.
And according to her, she had spent thirty-five years trying to find him.
Luca looked at the photograph still clutched in my hand.
“Emma.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Give me that picture.”
I handed it over.
He studied the little boy.
Then Margaret.
Then the photograph again.
His expression darkened.
“Who took me away?”
Margaret’s lips trembled.
“Your father came with two men. He said you were going somewhere better.”
Vanessa stepped backward.
“Luca, don’t.”
He slowly turned toward her.
“Why?”
She shook her head.
“Because that woman doesn’t know the whole story.”
Margaret suddenly looked frightened.
“Oh, sweetheart. You don’t understand.”
Luca returned his attention to her.
“Then tell me.”
She reached for his hand.
“I wasn’t the woman who gave birth to you.”
Nobody moved.
“I was hired to take care of you.”
Luca’s eyes narrowed.
“By whom?”
Margaret looked toward Vanessa.
And the color drained from her face.
“By her mother.”
Vanessa stumbled against the dining table.
“That’s impossible.”
Margaret shook her head.
“I remember you, Victoria. You used to come with your mother every Sunday.”
Vanessa’s champagne glass slipped from her hand.
It shattered against the marble floor.
Luca stared at his fiancée.
“Victoria?”
She was trembling now.
And I suddenly understood why Margaret had looked frightened the moment Vanessa entered the kitchen.
Victoria wasn’t Vanessa’s name.
It was the name she’d used as a child.
Luca slowly turned toward his security men.
“Lock the front doors. Nobody leaves until my fiancée tells me why she’s been lying about who she is.”
The guests erupted into whispers.
Vanessa backed toward the wall.
“Luca, please.”
“Victoria.”
She flinched.
“I haven’t heard that name in thirty years.”
“Then maybe tonight we hear it again.”
He looked at Margaret.
“Tell me everything.”
Margaret opened her mouth.
But a loud crash came from the hallway.
One of the guards shouted.
“Boss!”
Luca moved instantly.
He reached the doorway.
A second guard lay unconscious on the floor.
Beside him was a black envelope.
Luca picked it up.
There was no name.
Only one sentence.
ASK HER WHY YOUR MOTHER DIED.
He looked at Vanessa.
Her face had turned completely white.
And for the first time, she whispered the name everyone in Chicago feared almost as much as Luca’s.
“Bellini.”
May you like
But she didn’t say it like a family name.
She said it like a warning.
