Chapter 3 - Hidden Initials
Luca stood in the doorway, his eyes darting between Vanessa's tear-simulated posture and my rigid stance beside the sofa. The heavy silence in the room was thick enough to suffocate. Without a word of greeting, Luca walked past Vanessa as if she were a piece of furniture, his gaze fixing entirely on the ivory gown draped across the leather cushions.
"Vanessa," Luca said, his voice flat and devoid of any warmth. "What are you doing in my private study?"
"I came to check on the girl, darling," Vanessa replied, her voice trembling with practiced vulnerability. "She looked so overwhelmed, and I wanted to offer her some comfort before the staff handles the cleanup. But she was just standing here staring at the dress strangely."
Luca didn't answer her. He knelt beside the sofa, his large, tattooed hand reaching out to trace the torn edge of the lace sleeve where the dirt was thickest. He didn't look at Vanessa when he spoke next. "Leave us, Vanessa. Now."
For a second, Vanessa's jaw tightened, a flash of genuine anger crossing her features before she smoothed them over. "Darling, the guests are waiting for the toast. You can't stay in here with a maid over an old piece of laundry—"
"I said, leave," Luca interrupted, finally turning his head to look at her. The dark intensity in his eyes was absolute.
Vanessa swallowed her retort, spun on her heel, and swept out of the room, slamming the heavy oak door behind her with a dull thud that rattled the framed photographs on the wall.
When the lock clicked in the hallway, Luca let out a long, slow breath. He turned his attention back to the dress, sliding his fingers gently along the intricate blue floral embroidery near the waistline. "She shouldn't have been in here," he muttered, more to himself than to me.
"She offered me money to throw it away," I said softly, the words slipping out before I could censor them.
Luca stopped moving. His hand remained pressed against the blue flowers. Slowly, he looked up at me, his dark eyes searching my face. "What did you say?"
"She offered me five thousand dollars to take it to the incinerator and say I found it in the trash." I met his gaze, refusing to look away. "She told me to leave town by morning."
Luca's face hardened into something ancient and terrifying. Without another word, he leaned closer to the gown, using his thumbnail to gently pry apart two layers of yellowed silk lining near the inner bodice. He pulled back the fabric, revealing tiny, delicate stitches that had been hidden away for decades.
"Look here," Luca whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
May you like
I leaned down, my shoulder brushing against his black suit jacket as I peered at the tiny blue thread. Formed in meticulous, cursive stitches were two letters: *S.M.*
"Sofia Moretti," Luca breathed, his hand trembling as he traced his mother's initials. "She sewed her own signature into the lining. And someone didn't just throw this in the archive, Emma. Someone cut these sleeves deliberately."
