Chapter 2My Don Let the Housekeeper Killed My Mother, but It Was His

Still on the road, my phone lit up. A video call. Gianna.

She'd propped the camera up somewhere. Behind her, the estate's incinerator roared, and she was feeding things into it, one piece at a time.

"Oh, Elena." She tilted her head, all mock sympathy. "Some thief broke into the estate in the middle of the night and left a suitcase behind. So I had to clean up her mess. "

She smiled. "So I went ahead and cleared out her things for you. No point letting a thief's junk stink up our floors. No need to thank me."

The orange Hermès scarf curled and blackened in her fingers before she let it drop into the flames.

It was Rosaria's favorite. No woman in the Moretti family ever wore orange, out of respect for her. That color belonged to Rosaria and no one else.

Gianna clearly didn't know that. She'd only come to the estate these past two years, while Rosaria was off traveling the world.

"You're absolutely insane!" My voice tore out of me. "Lucio will kill you for this. He'll never forgive you."

She laughed, light and delighted. "You're not that important to him."

Then she hung up.

A second later, an anonymous clip landed in my messages: the same fire, the same suitcase, filmed from another angle.

I forwarded it to Lucio exactly as I'd gotten it. Hoping he'd recognize it as Rosaria's suitcase. He never opened it.

Two hours later, my car rolled up to the estate.

The lawn in front of the family estate had been transformed. A stage and a long banquet table stood at its center, and above them hung a banner: Happy Birthday, Mama.

Dozens of people had already gathered: Moretti capos, the family's inner circle, and guests from other houses who'd come to celebrate Rosaria's birthday.

The moment my heel touched the ground, every conversation stopped. They looked at me with curiosity. And under it, something worse. Pity.

I frowned and walked in. Then I understood.

In the corner of the courtyard, a body lay covered in a white sheet.

Gianna cut through the crowd toward me.

She wore a green satin gown and a wide-brimmed hat with a veil. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought she was the guest of honor.

She winked at me, playing the picture of innocence. Then she turned to face the courtyard, and her whole body changed.

"Elena." She dabbed at her eyes, her voice pitched to carry to the farthest table. "I didn't want to say this in front of everyone."

A hush spread through the guests. She let it sit.

"Your mother crept onto our estate to steal and fell from stairs." She pressed a hand to her chest.

“By the time I wired the money to the hospital, it was too late. The doctor said she was already gone.”

Her voice broke, perfectly timed.

"All I could do was bring her body to you. So you'd get to see her one last time."

Then she looked up, glassy-eyed, and gave the whole courtyard the finishing line.

"You're not going to blame me for this. Are you?"

The next second, my palm cracked across her face before she got the last word out. Hard enough that a ripple of gasps went through the guests.

"How dare you." My voice shook with everything I was holding back. "How dare you do this to her. And then stand here and cry about it."

Gianna's head snapped to the side. Before I could say another word, Lucio crossed the courtyard and stepped between us, shielding her.

"Are you okay?" He cupped Gianna's face, frantic, where my handprint was already rising red and swollen.

Gianna's lower lip trembled, right on cue.

"I'm sorry, Don. I never meant to ruin your mother's birthday. I just... I panicked. I thought I was doing the right thing..."

"Shh." He pulled her into his chest. "I know. Not your fault. You were just doing your job."

Then he turned to me. Every trace of softness gone.

"Elena. You're cut from the same cloth as your mother. She broke into Moretti property. Terrified my Gia. And now you come here throwing a tantrum, turning my mother's birthday into a circus. You should be thanking me for not making your family pay for the damage."

I stared at him.

At the man I'd married.

At a Don defending the woman who'd just let an innocent old woman die.

"Lucio." I said it slowly, one word at a time. "Go look at the body."

He laughed in my face.

"Why? So I can get one last look at your mother's face? So you can make me feel sorry for you?"

"I'm not ruining my appetite over some old, ugly woman's corpse. I'd never eat again."

Behind him, Ivy, his sister, strolled over, unhurried.

"Lucio, why are you even talking to her? Her mother's the one who couldn't keep her hands off things that weren't hers."

"If Father hadn't forced this marriage on his deathbed, you could've had anyone. Someone with actual standing. Instead you're stuck with the daughter of a thief."

"Honestly, putting this thief down for good is a favor to everyone. Saves her the trouble of crawling into someone else's house next and dragging our name through the mud."

Heads nodded all around the courtyard.

"She's right. Mothers-in-law like that are parasites. Bleed you dry and call it family. The Morettis don't need that kind of dead weight."

"God forbid she steals from another house and someone traces it back to us. We'd never live it down."

"Why hasn't Elena just locked her mother up somewhere? Gianna did us all a favor, if you ask me. One and done."

Gianna lifted her head from Lucio's chest, eyes swimming.

"But Elena looks so angry. What if she wants revenge? What if she comes after me?"

"Don't be scared." Lucio tightened his arms around her. "As long as I'm breathing, no one in this city touches you."

He snapped his fingers. The family lawyer stepped forward, papers in hand.

"Mrs. Moretti. Sign this waiver. Once you do, you're free to take the body. Your mother's death was an accident. Your family will never seek damages from the Morettis. She brought this on herself."

"Out of respect for our marriage, I'm willing to overlook the trespassing, the theft. But you sign, and you promise never to come after Gia again," Lucio added.

"You've got five minutes." He tipped his chin at the sheet. "My mother's almost here. I'd rather she didn't walk into this mess."