Chapter 8 - The Unexpected Delivery
Luca frowned, turning his head toward the hallway. "Who on earth is that at this hour? I gave strict orders that no visitors were to be let through the gates."
"I'll go check, Mr. Moretti," I offered quickly, eager to break the sudden, electric tension in the nursery.
"No, stay here with Sophie," Luca said, running a hand through his hair. "I’ll go down and see what security wants."
As Luca strode out of the nursery down the long corridor, I knelt back down to help Sophie pack her crayons away. But an uneasy feeling prickled at the back of my neck. Ever since Vanessa and her father had been publicly disgraced, the media had been relentless, and the Bellini family was known for petty, vindictive retaliation.
Five minutes later, Luca returned to the nursery.
He wasn't holding an envelope or a legal notice. In his hands, he held a small, slightly worn leather-bound photo album.
His face was pale, his jaw set in a tight, unreadable line.
"Mr. Moretti?" I asked, standing up slowly. "What is it? Who was at the gate?"
"It wasn't reporters," Luca said quietly, his voice strained. He walked over and handed the leather album to me. "The front security guard found this left on the outer stone pillar, wrapped in brown paper with my name on it."
I took the album with trembling fingers. I opened the cover, and my breath caught in my throat.
It was Sarah’s personal photo album—the one Vanessa had claimed was "accidentally lost" during the move into the mansion six months ago. Page after page showed photographs of a young Sarah laughing in the garden, holding a newborn Sophie, smiling warmly beside Luca during happier, simpler times.
Tucked inside the final page was a white index card, scrawled in messy, angry handwriting:
YOU THINK YOU WON, LUCA? THIS IS ONLY THE BEGINNING. YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE LAST OF US.
"Vanessa," I whispered, the cold reality sinking in.
Luca’s hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, the knuckles turning white. "She had one of her family’s former staff drop it off to rattle us. She thinks she can terrorize my home from the outside."
Sophie tugged gently on the hem of Luca’s trousers, looking up with wide, worried eyes. "Daddy? You sad?"
Luca instantly softened, kneeling down to scoop his daughter into his arms. "No, my sweet girl. Daddy’s not sad at all. In fact, Daddy is just realizing it’s time to finally clean out the last of the shadows in this house."
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He looked up at me, his dark eyes burning with fierce, protective resolve.
"Claire, I need you to help me with something tomorrow morning."
