Chapter 10 - Vanessa’s Second Secret
Peter Vale had hugged Luca when Isabella died.
He had spent Christmases at the Moretti estate.
He was supposed to stand beside Luca at the altar.
And he had carried Bruno to a van while I begged him to stop.
When Luca learned the truth, he didn’t speak for almost a minute.
Then:
“Find him.”
Peter was gone.
His apartment empty.
Phone off.
Passport flagged.
Vanessa finally told investigators the part she had hidden.
Peter was the one who recruited her.
Not Victor.
Two years earlier, Peter began telling her Luca would never truly share control.
He encouraged her resentment.
Introduced her to financial consultants.
Helped her create the Delaware company.
Vanessa believed Peter was helping her secure independence.
Eventually he introduced Victor.
By then she was already compromised.
Documents stolen.
Money moved.
Lies recorded.
She could no longer walk away without exposing herself.
“Why didn’t she tell Luca?” I asked Daniel.
“Pride.”
“That’s it?”
“Pride makes people do expensive things.”
Vanessa’s second secret was worse.
She and Peter had been having an affair.
For seven months.
When Daniel told Luca, I wished he hadn’t done it in front of me.
Luca’s face emptied.
All emotion disappeared.
“Seven?”
“Yes.”
“The engagement began nine months ago.”
“Yes.”
Luca walked to the window.
I stood.
“I should go.”
“No.”
His voice stopped me.
“Please.”
So I stayed.
He stared outside.
“I was going to marry her.”
Nobody answered.
“She sat beside my mother’s dog every Sunday and pretended she loved him.”
His voice cracked slightly.
“She knew what Bruno meant.”
I had never seen Luca look so human.
Not powerful.
Not feared.
Just humiliated.
Betrayed.
I said quietly:
“She knew.”
He looked at me.
“That’s why she used him.”
The truth hurt more because it made sense.
Vanessa chose Bruno precisely because he mattered.
She chose my mother because she mattered to me.
People like that learned your softest places first.
Then pressed them.
Luca sat.
“Did you ever hate working here?”
The question surprised me.
“No.”
“Even after what happened?”
“I hated Vanessa.”
That earned a tired laugh.
“Fair.”
“I didn’t hate the house.”
“Why not?”
“Because most people here are kind.”
Mrs. Carter.
The kitchen staff.
The gardeners.
Luca himself.
I continued.
“One cruel person doesn’t get to own every memory.”
He looked at me for a long time.
Then nodded.
That afternoon investigators found Peter.
Not in another country.
Not at an airport.
At a North Lake warehouse twenty miles from Chicago.
He wasn’t alone.
Victor Hale was there.
By the time authorities arrived, Victor had fled.
Peter was arrested.
Inside the warehouse investigators found copies of Moretti records.
Surveillance photographs.
Financial forecasts.
And a wall covered with photographs of Luca.
One photograph showed me.
One showed my mother.
One showed Bruno.
On the back of Bruno’s photograph were three words:
Remove before wedding.
That became the clearest proof yet.
Bruno’s disappearance was planned.
Peter had used the fake transport identity.
Vanessa created the injury story.
And Victor had intended Bruno’s death to erase an unpredictable witness to their movements around the estate.
A dog couldn’t testify.
But a dog could carry objects.
Bark at strangers.
Lead staff into rooms.
Create questions.
So they eliminated the variable.
Or tried to.
What saved Bruno was not a security system.
Not wealth.
Not power.
It was a maid who refused to open a gate.
And eleven minutes.
Eleven minutes between a phone call and irreversible loss.
The story should have ended there.
Instead, Peter asked to speak with Luca.
He offered a deal.
Victor’s location.
North Lake’s ownership records.
Richard’s offshore accounts.
In exchange, Peter wanted Luca to keep one name out of the investigation.
“Whose?” Luca asked.
Peter smiled through the glass.
“Emma Collins.”
Luca’s expression changed.
“What does Emma have to do with any of this?”
May you like
Peter leaned forward.
“Ask her mother.”
