Chapter 4 - The Crown and the 'M'
|
Elena looked down at the tarnished silver in her hand. "The locket?"
"Yes," Adrian said, stepping around Cassandra to get closer.
"There’s nothing inside, sir," Elena explained nervously. "Just an old picture."
"Open it."
Something in the desperate, commanding tone of his voice made her obey without further question. Her fingernail found the tiny, worn clasp on the side.
The locket clicked open with a soft metallic sound.
On one side of the interior was a faded, black-and-white photograph of Elena’s mother as a very young, beautiful woman.
On the other side was a tiny, intricately engraved symbol. Elena had seen it thousands of times since she was a little girl, but she had never understood what it meant.
It was a sharp, stylized crown positioned directly above the letter 'M'.
Adrian took a sudden, staggering step backward. It was the first time anyone in that room had ever seen the mafia boss look physically shaken.
One of the elderly men standing near the grand staircase, an old capo who had served the family for decades, dropped his crystal champagne glass.
It shattered violently against the marble floor, the sharp noise echoing in the quiet room.
"Oh my God," the old man whispered, staring wide-eyed at the small piece of jewelry.
Cassandra turned sharply, glaring at the man. "What is it?"
The old man didn't look at Cassandra. He stared at Elena, and then turned his terrified gaze to Adrian.
"That belonged to Isabella," the old man stammered.
Adrian’s head snapped toward the older man, his eyes blazing. "Say that again."
The man looked suddenly, profoundly afraid, realizing he had spoken a forbidden name. "I said… that was Isabella Moretti’s locket. I recognize the family crest."
Elena’s stomach tightened into a painful knot. She looked around at the staring faces. "Who is Isabella Moretti?"
Nobody answered her.
Adrian’s face had become dangerously, terrifyingly still. The air in the ballroom felt heavy, suffocating.
The name belonged to his older sister.
A sister who had vanished without a trace twenty-seven years earlier. A beloved sister the wealthy and powerful Moretti family had searched for across three countries, spending millions in private investigators. A sister Adrian had ultimately been told was dead.
He reached a shaking hand toward the necklace, but forced himself to stop before actually touching it.
He turned his intense focus back to Elena.
"Your mother," Adrian’s voice was much lower now, vibrating with a suppressed, volatile emotion. "How old was she?"
"Fifty-one when she died," Elena answered, her voice barely a squeak.
"When did she die?"
"Seven years ago."
"What did she die from?"
"Cancer. It was very aggressive."
Adrian swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Where did she grow up?"
Elena looked increasingly frightened, taking a small step back. "I don’t know much about her childhood, sir. She never talked about it. She said she didn't have any family."
Cassandra stepped aggressively between them again, her face flushed with anger and embarrassment. "Adrian, this is absolutely absurd. Stop talking to the help."
He didn't even look at her. "Move."
Cassandra stared at him, genuinely shocked. "You cannot seriously believe some low-class maid simply walks into our engagement party wearing your missing sister’s priceless jewelry."
At those words, Elena’s heart completely stopped beating.
"Your sister?" Elena gasped, looking at Adrian.
May you like
Adrian finally looked back at her, the coldness in his eyes melting into a desperate search for the truth.
"My sister disappeared when I was eleven years old," Adrian said softly.
