Chapter 2 - THE ROOM NO GUEST WAS ALLOWED TO ENTER
The engagement party ended without music.
No announcement was made.
No final toast was offered.
Vincent’s security team quietly directed the guests toward the main entrance while collecting names and contact information.
Nobody complained loudly.
People with money understood when silence was in their best interest.
The last limousine disappeared through the iron gates shortly after midnight.
Snow continued falling over Belladonna House.
Inside, no one celebrated.
Vincent took me to the library.
Vivian was brought there separately.
Luca remained near the door.
Two other security men stood in the hallway.
I had cleaned the library countless times.
I had dusted the bookshelves.
Polished the antique desk.
Vacuumed the Persian rug.
Never once had I been invited to sit.
Now Vincent pulled out a chair for me.
Vivian noticed.
Her mouth tightened.
Vincent placed the black box on the desk.
Then he put the photograph beside it.
“Start talking.”
Vivian crossed her arms.
“I want my attorney.”
“You can call whoever you want.”
“I mean privately.”
“After you explain why Isabella’s belongings were in your room.”
“They were brought there by mistake.”
Luca actually laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
Vivian glared at him.
Vincent remained calm.
“You expect me to believe housekeeping accidentally put a maid’s coat, purse, and personal belongings inside your private dressing room?”
“Yes.”
“And then accidentally placed a photograph of my missing sister beside them?”
“I didn’t put that photograph there.”
“Who did?”
“I don’t know.”
Vincent leaned back.
“Try harder.”
Vivian’s attention shifted toward me.
“This girl is manipulating you.”
I felt my anger rise.
“My name is Isabella.”
“I know your name.”
“You spent six months calling me Bella.”
Vivian’s face tightened.
“You knew my full name from the beginning, didn’t you?”
She said nothing.
Vincent looked at her.
“Answer her.”
“Yes.”
The confession was small.
Its implications weren’t.
I leaned forward.
“How?”
“Employment records.”
“Why were you reading my employment records?”
“I review staff.”
“No, you don’t.”
She looked at Vincent.
“She’s becoming aggressive.”
I almost laughed.
Hours earlier Vivian had tried to force me to kneel while holding a riding crop.
Now asking questions made me aggressive.
Vincent apparently noticed the absurdity too.
He pointed toward the door.
“You can leave if this is too uncomfortable.”
Vivian blinked.
“You mean her?”
“I mean you.”
Her face changed.
“Vincent.”
“If you don’t want to answer questions, leave.”
Vivian stared at him in disbelief.
“This is my engagement party.”
“It was.”
The word hit her hard.
“What does that mean?”
“It means there is no engagement party anymore.”
“You’re ending our engagement because of a maid?”
Vincent stood.
The room seemed to become colder with him.
“I am stopping tonight because a woman I intended to marry assaulted an employee, lied about it, hid that employee’s possessions in her room, and apparently knows something about my sister’s disappearance.”
Vivian swallowed.
“Don’t make decisions while you’re emotional.”
Vincent’s expression hardened.
“You should worry about the decisions I make when I’m calm.”
She went silent.
I looked again at the photograph.
My mother looked perhaps twenty.
She wore her dark hair long.
Her smile was bright.
Nothing like the guarded woman who had raised me.
Salvatore DeMarco stood beside her.
He was younger too.
But unmistakable.
I pointed at him.
“How did my mother know Vivian’s father?”
Vivian said nothing.
“Answer me.”
She looked at me.
“You really don’t know anything.”
“No.”
Her eyes searched my face.
For the first time, I sensed she believed me.
That frightened her even more.
“She told you nothing?”
“About what?”
Vivian glanced at Vincent.
He stepped closer.
“About what?”
She shook her head.
“I need my father.”
Vincent picked up the telephone on his desk.
“I’ll call him.”
“No.”
Vivian moved so quickly that Luca stepped forward.
“Don’t call him.”
Vincent lowered the phone.
“Why?”
“Because if he knows Isabella is here, everything changes.”
My skin prickled.
“He knows me?”
Vivian whispered.
“He knows what you are.”
The phrase made my stomach turn.
“What am I?”
She looked at the locket lying near Vincent’s hand.
“The mistake everyone thought had disappeared.”
Vincent slammed his palm onto the desk.
“Enough riddles.”
Vivian flinched.
“Tell us what happened twenty-eight years ago.”
“I was six.”
“Then tell us what you were told.”
“My father never told me the entire story.”
“What did he tell you?”
She looked at me.
“That Teresa Romano was dangerous.”
I almost stood.
“My mother worked two jobs for most of my childhood.”
“She wasn’t dangerous because she was violent.”
“Then why?”
Vivian whispered.
“Because she could destroy both our families.”
Vincent stared at her.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“I know pieces.”
“Give me the pieces.”
Vivian’s shoulders slowly lowered.
“My father used to keep files in his study.”
“When I was sixteen, I found one with Teresa’s name.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“What was in it?”
“Photographs.”
“Of what?”
“You.”
I froze.
“Me?”
“As a child.”
The library tilted.
“What?”
Vivian nodded.
“There were photographs of you outside school.”
“At a playground.”
“With Teresa.”
“Outside your apartment.”
I stood so suddenly the chair scraped backward.
“My mother was being watched?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“By your father?”
“I think so.”
I walked toward Vivian.
Luca moved slightly between us.
I stopped.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I was a teenager!”
“You were an adult when you hired me.”
Vivian’s eyes flashed.
“That wasn’t my idea.”
The room became silent.
Vincent spoke first.
“Whose was it?”
Vivian hesitated.
“My father’s.”
I stared at her.
“Salvatore told you to hire me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He said he needed confirmation.”
“Of what?”
“He didn’t say.”
Vincent’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“The locket.”
Vivian looked at him.
“He wanted to know whether she still had it.”
I instinctively touched my throat.
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“So you hired Isabella to see whether she wore Alessandra’s necklace.”
“Yes.”
My breathing became shallow.
“And tonight?”
Vivian looked away.
“What were you supposed to do tonight?”
“Nothing.”
“That is a lie.”
“It isn’t.”
“Then why was her purse in your room?”
Vivian remained silent.
Vincent walked around the desk.
She backed away.
“Why was Isabella’s purse in your room?”
Vivian’s confidence finally collapsed.
“I was supposed to search it.”
“For the locket?”
“Yes.”
“Why tonight?”
“Because my father said we were running out of time.”
Vincent frowned.
“Running out of time before what?”
Vivian shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
I suddenly remembered something.
My mother had died six months ago.
I had started working at Belladonna House five months ago.
The timing wasn’t random.
Salvatore had waited until Teresa could no longer protect me.
I felt sick.
“Did your father know my mother died?”
Vivian nodded.
“How?”
“He received a notice.”
“What notice?”
“I don’t know.”
Vincent looked toward Luca.
“Find out.”
Luca immediately pulled out his phone.
Vivian sat down.
For the first time she looked exhausted.
I remained standing.
One question burned hotter than the rest.
“If you only wanted my necklace, why humiliate me?”
Her expression shifted.
Vincent watched her.
“So people would believe she stole something?”
Vivian’s silence answered.
I stared.
“You wanted me thrown out looking guilty.”
“I was angry.”
“No.”
“You planned the champagne.”
“No.”
“You moved my purse first.”
Vivian clenched her jaw.
I finally understood.
“She needed witnesses.”
Vincent looked at me.
I pointed toward the ballroom.
“Two hundred people were supposed to see the rude maid spill champagne, insult the future Mrs. Moretti, refuse instructions, and get fired.”
Vivian looked away.
“Then if something disappeared from Belladonna House afterward…”
Vincent completed the thought.
“Everyone would remember Isabella as the obvious suspect.”
I felt cold.
“What were you planning to accuse me of stealing?”
Vivian whispered something.
“What?”
She closed her eyes.
“The Moretti emerald.”
Vincent went completely still.
Luca lowered his phone.
Even I knew about the Moretti emerald.
It was worth several million dollars.
It had belonged to Vincent’s grandmother.
It was normally stored in a private vault.
Vincent stared at Vivian.
“You were going to plant my grandmother’s necklace in her belongings?”
Vivian said nothing.
“You were going to send an innocent woman to prison?”
“It wasn’t supposed to go that far.”
I laughed.
The sound surprised me.
“What exactly happens when police find a multimillion-dollar necklace in a maid’s purse?”
Vivian’s voice cracked.
“My father said he would handle it.”
“Your father seems to handle everything.”
She looked at me.
Something like shame crossed her face.
Then disappeared.
Vincent walked toward the black box.
“What else did Salvatore tell you?”
“That’s all.”
“Vivian.”
“That’s all.”
Luca interrupted.
“Boss.”
Vincent turned.
Luca held his phone.
“I had someone check archived household records.”
“And?”
“Alessandra’s bedroom was sealed after she disappeared.”
Vincent frowned.
“My father ordered that.”
“Yes.”
“Why does that matter?”
Luca’s eyes moved toward me.
“Because someone accessed it four days ago.”
Vincent’s expression changed.
“Who?”
Luca swallowed.
“The electronic log identifies the code used.”
“Whose code?”
Luca looked at Vivian.
“Salvatore DeMarco’s.”
Vivian stood.
“That’s impossible.”
Vincent’s voice turned flat.
“Apparently that word is getting overused tonight.”
He looked toward Luca.
“Open Alessandra’s room.”
Vivian stepped forward.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
Her face had become pale again.
Vincent studied her.
“What is inside my sister’s room?”
Vivian shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“Then why are you afraid?”
She looked directly at me.
“Because my father said there was one thing Teresa left behind twenty-eight years ago.”
My mouth went dry.
“What thing?”
Vivian whispered.
May you like
“Proof that Isabella was never supposed to survive.”
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