Chapter 2 - The Fiancée Who Had a Dead Husband
I was in my small room upstairs when Mrs. Carter came in.
“Dr. Harris is downstairs.”
“I don't need a doctor.”
“You're not the one who gets to decide.”
I smiled weakly.
“Yes, ma'am.”
She sat beside me.
“Natalie, what happened?”
“Nothing.”
She looked at my ankle.
“Nothing doesn't make an ankle swell like that.”
I lowered my eyes.
“I slipped.”
“Where?”
I hesitated.
“The flower cooler.”
Mrs. Carter stared at me.
“You know we're not supposed to enter that room.”
“Yes.”
“Who sent you?”
I didn't answer.
She sighed.
“You're protecting someone.”
I looked at her.
“You don't understand.”
“I understand more than you think.”
Then she lowered her voice.
“Mr. Moretti has been asking questions.”
My heart jumped.
“He found something.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
Before I could respond, footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Luca.
Mrs. Carter stood immediately.
He entered.
His expression was unreadable.
“Leave us.”
Mrs. Carter nodded.
The door closed.
Luca looked at my ankle.
Then at me.
“You lied to me.”
My stomach dropped.
“Sir—”
“You told me the floor was wet.”
“It was.”
“That's not why you fell.”
I said nothing.
“You were pushed.”
The room seemed to spin.
“I can explain.”
“You can tell me the truth.”
He sat across from me.
“Vanessa told me to get the flowers.”
“Why?”
“She said the florist needed help.”
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
“She went with you?”
“No.”
“Then how did you hurt yourself?”
I remembered the moment.
The sharp edge of a metal shelf.
The flowers falling.
Vanessa's hand on my shoulder.
Her whisper.
“You never saw me here.”
I looked at Luca.
“She pushed me.”
His face hardened.
“I knew it.”
I swallowed.
“But it wasn't an accident.”
“What happened?”
“I opened the storage room.”
“Why?”
“Because I heard knocking.”
He leaned forward.
“What did you find?”
I told him about the old woman.
His expression changed.
“Did you know her?”
“No.”
“Did you know about Vanessa's first marriage?”
“No.”
“Do you believe what she told me?”
“I believe the photograph.”
He stared at me.
“Why didn't you tell me at dinner?”
I almost laughed.
“She told me she'd destroy my job.”
“She won't.”
“She controls the household staff.”
“Not anymore.”
He paused.
“Why are you so afraid?”
I looked down.
“My father.”
“What about him?”
“He borrowed money from the wrong people before he died.”
Luca was silent.
“My mother is sick. My younger brother is in college. I need this job.”
“I'll cover your expenses.”
I looked up sharply.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because then I'd owe you.”
“You already work for me.”
“That's different.”
“How?”
“I'm paid for my work.”
He studied me.
“You'd rather suffer than accept help.”
“Yes.”
A faint smile appeared.
“That's inconvenient.”
“For you?”
“For me.”
I didn't understand.
Before I could ask, he received a message.
He read it.
His entire expression changed.
“What?”
He showed me a photograph.
Margaret Bell.
And beneath it:
JULIAN BELL'S MOTHER.
My heart sank.
“He really existed.”
“Yes.”
“Vanessa lied?”
“She did.”
Luca stood.
“I'm going to ask you something.”
“What?”
“When Vanessa told you to enter that cooler, did she know Margaret was there?”
I remembered Vanessa's face.
“She knew.”
Luca stared at me.
“How sure are you?”
“She told me to keep that door locked.”
His jaw tightened.
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
I remembered another thing.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“She told me something strange.”
“What?”
“She said, ‘He should never see what's behind the second door.’”
Luca froze.
“What second door?”
“The storage room.”
He looked toward the hallway.
“Anything else?”
I shook my head.
Then I remembered.
“She dropped something.”
“What?”
“A key.”
He reached into his pocket.
“Did it look like this?”
He showed me a photograph.
An antique brass key.
“Yes.”
Luca's face became grim.
“That key belongs to the old Moretti house.”
“The house where Julian supposedly died?”
“Yes.”
I felt cold.
“What are you going to do?”
“Find out why Vanessa needed that key tonight.”
He walked to the door.
Then stopped.
“Natalie.”
I looked at him.
“Thank you for telling me.”
“For once, thank me by keeping your ankle still.”
He smiled.
Then he left.
I should have felt relieved.
Instead, I felt afraid.
Because Vanessa had spent months making sure everyone thought I was invisible.
And now Luca Moretti had started looking directly at me.
That afternoon, Luca went to see his fiancée.
Vanessa was in the dressing room, removing her earrings.
She smiled when he entered.
“Darling.”
He closed the door.
“Who is Julian Bell?”
Her hand stopped.
For several seconds, she didn't speak.
Then she laughed.
“I have no idea.”
Luca put the marriage certificate on the table.
Her face went white.
“Where did you get that?”
“Answer me.”
“It's fake.”
“Your signature?”
“A forgery.”
“Your wedding photo?”
“An old photograph.”
“His mother?”
“I don't know her.”
Luca's voice became quiet.
“She was locked in my flower cooler.”
Vanessa's breathing changed.
“Why?”
“She says you put her there.”
“That woman is crazy.”
“She knew your maiden name.”
Vanessa turned away.
“Luca, please.”
“Why did you request a second key to the cooler?”
“I didn't.”
“Your fingerprint was found on the emergency lock.”
She looked at him.
The smile disappeared.
“Someone is setting me up.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
He moved closer.
“Then help me.”
She touched his arm.
“I love you.”
He removed her hand.
“Don't.”
She stared.
“What are you saying?”
“I'm saying I don't know you.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I have done everything for this relationship.”
“You lied about being married.”
“I was young.”
“You said you were never married.”
“I was ashamed.”
“You told me your parents died when you were seventeen.”
“They did.”
“Then why didn't you tell me about Julian?”
“Because he died.”
Luca stared at her.
Margaret's words echoed in his head.
My son didn't die in that fire.
“You're certain?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I was there.”
A pause.
“What do you mean?”
Vanessa froze.
“I mean…”
She couldn't finish.
Luca noticed.
“You were there.”
She looked away.
“Vanessa.”
She whispered:
“It was an accident.”
“What was?”
“The fire.”
“Then why was Julian calling his mother that night?”
She had no answer.
Luca turned.
At the door, he paused.
“One more question.”
“What?”
“Who was the man standing behind you in the photograph?”
She stared.
“I don't know.”
“The same man appears in another photograph from the night Julian disappeared.”
Vanessa's face collapsed.
Luca walked away.
For the first time, she understood that he was no longer trying to believe her.
He was trying to prove she was lying.
And downstairs, in a small bedroom, I was about to discover that the truth would make me a target.
Because that night, someone slid a note beneath my door.
I picked it up.
Three words.
STOP HELPING LUCA.
Underneath was a photograph.
My younger brother.
Leaving his college dormitory.
May you like
The message continued.
“Next time, it won't be a warning.”
