Chapter 1 - The Woman at the Back Door
“Put his pregnant daughter in a cab, Claire, or I’ll make sure you never work in this city again.”
Vanessa Bellini said it with a smile.
Behind her, thirty guests were waiting to celebrate her engagement to Luca Moretti. Crystal glasses. White roses. Enough security outside to protect a visiting president.
Beside me stood the one person she didn’t want him to see.
Emily Moretti was twenty-seven, almost six months pregnant, and holding a gift bag so tightly the paper handles had begun to tear.
“I can leave,” she whispered.
Vanessa adjusted the diamond on her finger.
“Finally. Some consideration.”
My name is Claire Dawson. I was twenty-nine, and I cleaned the Moretti mansion for a living. I knew which floors creaked, which guests tipped, and which men stopped talking when Luca entered a room.
I also knew his daughter’s photograph sat on his desk, facing his chair.
That was why I didn’t reach for the phone.
“Does Mr. Moretti know she’s here?”
Vanessa’s eyes hardened.
“He doesn’t need family complications tonight.”
Emily placed a hand over her stomach.
“He means the baby.”
“You told him?”
“I’ve been trying for six weeks.”
Three mornings earlier, I had heard Luca ask Vanessa why Emily wasn’t returning his calls.
Vanessa had said she was busy.
Now Emily stood beside me, believing her father had rejected his first grandchild.
“When did you last speak to him directly?” I asked.
“Almost two months ago.”
“Claire,” Vanessa warned.
“Do you call his personal number?”
Emily nodded.
“Vanessa usually answers.”
There it was.
Vanessa pulled several bills from her purse.
“Take these and go.”
“I drove three hours.”
“Then drive three hours back.”
Emily swallowed.
“I brought him something.”
“It can wait.”
“This is his grandchild.”
“And this is my engagement dinner.”
Emily looked down at the gift bag.
Vanessa leaned closer.
“Your father has spent his life cleaning up family mistakes. Don’t make him start again with yours.”
I felt something settle inside me.
Not courage, exactly.
A decision.
My mother’s property taxes were due. My paycheck helped keep her in the house my father had left her. Vanessa knew that. She had asked enough questions about my family to know exactly where to press.
“Call the cab,” she said. “Think about your mother.”
I reached for Emily’s coat.
For one second, Vanessa looked pleased.
Then I hung it on the service hook.
“Come with me.”
Emily stared.
“Where?”
“To see your father.”
Vanessa caught my wrist.
“You open those doors, you’re finished.”
I looked at her hand until she released me.
Then I took Emily toward the dining room.
May you like
Behind us, Vanessa’s heels struck the marble fast.
For the first time since I’d met her, she sounded afraid.
