Chương 2
Luca did not answer his brother immediately.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Matteo stood in the library doorway.
Thirty-six.
Same dark eyes as Luca.
Less controlled face.
He looked like he had not slept in two days.
Luca looked at him for a long time.
Then:
“You were supposed to be in New York.”
“I know.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I flew back.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“Why?”
Matteo looked at me.
“I think Mara should get her wrist checked first.”
I almost laughed.
Now he cared about sequence.
Luca did not.
“Why were you in my study hallway at 3:09?”
Matteo exhaled.
“Because I thought Vanessa was writing the notes.”
Silence.
Mrs. Carter sat beside me.
Evan remained near door.
Luca said:
“Start at the beginning.”
Matteo did.
The first anonymous note arrived seven weeks earlier.
SHE WILL NEVER BE FAMILY.
Luca showed it to Matteo that night.
Matteo said:
“Sounds like some idiot with a pen.”
He meant it.
The second:
ASK YOUR BROTHER WHAT HE REALLY THINKS OF HER.
That one bothered him.
Why?
Because only a small number of people knew he and Vanessa had argued privately about wedding.
Not the whole family.
Not staff.
Matteo had told Vanessa:
“You don’t want to join this family. You want Luca to rearrange it around you.”
Cruel.
Maybe partly true.
Maybe not.
He apologized later for saying it.
The second note felt like someone using their private argument.
Luca asked:
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did.”
“No. You told me it was probably someone stirring things.”
“Because I wasn’t sure.”
Then third note appeared in Luca’s coat:
HE WOULD RATHER LOSE YOU THAN WATCH YOU MARRY HER.
Matteo knew those words.
Not exact.
Close.
He had said to Vanessa in a later argument:
“If you make him choose every time, eventually you’ll make him lose one of us.”
Vanessa had replied:
“Maybe that’s what it takes for him to grow up.”
Matteo never told Luca.
He was embarrassed.
He had contributed to toxicity.
Then the note arrived.
He suspected.
Still no proof.
So he did something stupid.
He lied.
Told Luca he would be in New York for three days.
Actually flew out for one meeting, returned on first flight the next morning, and checked into St. Vincent’s rather than come home.
“Why not tell security?” Luca asked.
“Because I thought if Vanessa was doing it, anyone changing routine might spook her.”
“You were investigating my fiancée.”
“Yes.”
“In my house.”
“Yes.”
“Without telling me.”
“Yes.”
Luca’s anger shifted.
Not softened.
Distributed.
Matteo continued.
He knew Vanessa often spent afternoons at mansion before engagement events.
He entered through garage side door at 2:45.
He had his own family key.
No hacking.
No stolen badge.
He stayed upstairs in old music room.
At 3:06, he saw Vanessa come out of dressing room carrying a cream envelope.
He followed at distance.
At 3:09, she opened Luca’s study with key Luca had given her for wedding planning.
Matteo saw through partially open door:
Vanessa take brass Moretti embosser from drawer.
press envelope.
slide a note under Luca’s blotter.
He took one photo.
Vanessa turned.
Maybe she saw movement.
Matteo backed away.
Then heard her coming.
He moved toward service stairs and ran into me.
“That’s when you gave Mara the phone,” Luca said.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I panicked.”
“You could have put it in your pocket.”
“She had already seen me.”
“That isn’t a reason.”
“No.”
Matteo looked at me.
“I thought if Vanessa caught me, she would take phone. I thought Mara could get it downstairs.”
I stared.
“You didn’t tell me what was on it.”
“I know.”
“You said I didn’t need to understand.”
“I know.”
“You made me carry evidence for you.”
His face tightened.
“Yes.”
Luca’s eyes moved to him.
That phrase landed.
Evidence.
Matteo had used me as a courier because I was nearby and because he assumed staff could move invisibly through house.
Different motive from Vanessa.
Same blind spot about power.
Matteo said:
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at my wrist.
“I believe you.”
Not:
it’s fine.
It wasn’t.
Then what happened to Matteo after handoff?
He went down service stairs, out through kitchen courtyard, and took a rideshare to hotel.
Why not stay and tell Luca?
Because dinner guests had already begun arriving.
Because he wanted to preserve photo.
Because he no longer had phone.
“That makes no sense,” Luca said.
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you call me from hotel?”
“I was afraid Vanessa had gotten phone and deleted it.”
“You could still tell me.”
“I wanted to know if she planted note first.”
“You already saw her.”
“I wanted you to find it naturally.”
Luca stared.
“You wanted to run an experiment on my life.”
Matteo flinched.
That was the point.
His wrongdoing was not equal to Vanessa’s.
But it was real.
He had let suspicion turn his brother into subject.
Then Luca asked:
“How many notes do you think she wrote?”
Matteo answered:
“All after first.”
That surprised everyone.
“Why not the first?”
“Because first note used a phrase Vanessa hated.”
What phrase?
SHE WILL NEVER BE FAMILY.
Vanessa had complained about exactly that fear for months.
Would she write it herself?
Matteo thought no.
Maybe first note was real.
Then she copied pattern.
That changed mystery.
One authentic cruel note may have started everything.
Who wrote first?
Unknown.
Maybe a guest.
Maybe family member.
Maybe someone outside.
Vanessa could have reacted to real harassment by staging more.
Complex.
Then security search.
The new envelope under blotter matched:
same cream cotton paper.
same block lettering.
same black felt-tip pen style.
But not necessarily same writer as earlier notes.
Physical examination:
first note paper was cheaper office stock, no crest.
second and third were cotton stationery with faint Moretti embossing.
Fourth, planted today, same cotton stock as second/third.
Interesting.
Could first note have inspired.
Then Vanessa’s dressing room became the next question.
Her belongings were private even inside Luca’s house, so nobody went through them casually.
Evan confirmed she remained upstairs.
Her attorney was called before anyone touched the room.
Luca did not confront immediately.
Instead, he asked Evan:
“Is the fourth note still under blotter?”
“Yes.”
“Leave it.”
“Why?”
“I want her to think I haven’t seen it.”
Matteo stared.
“You’re doing what I did.”
Luca looked at him.
“No. I’m not hiding from my brother while using staff.”
Still, point.
He changed course.
“Forget that.”
That helped.
No counter-sting.
They documented note and removed.
Then Luca called Vanessa downstairs with her attorney on phone.
She came downstairs still wearing the red dinner dress.
She saw Matteo.
Stopped.
“You.”
Matteo said nothing.
Luca put the phone photo on table.
Vanessa looked.
Her face went white.
Then:
“He was spying on me.”
Luca said:
“Yes.”
Matteo flinched.
No denial.
Then Luca placed fourth note beside photo.
“Did you write this?”
Vanessa stared.
“No.”
Matteo laughed once.
Luca turned.
“Stop.”
Matteo did.
Luca looked back to Vanessa.
“Did you put it under my blotter?”
“No.”
“Mara saw you follow her into pantry.”
“She had Matteo’s phone.”
“That’s not answer.”
“She had stolen property.”
I looked up.
Matteo said:
“I gave it to her.”
Vanessa turned on him.
“You used staff to spy on me.”
“Yes.”
Again, no denial.
That honesty took air from accusation.
Then Luca asked:
“Did you grab Mara’s wrist?”
Vanessa looked at me.
“I tried to take the phone.”
“Did you twist her wrist?”
Silence.
“Yes.”
“Did you threaten her job?”
Vanessa’s eyes filled.
“I told her she had gotten involved in family business.”
“That isn’t answer.”
“Yes.”
Then Luca touched note.
“Did you write it?”
“No.”
He looked at photo.
“Why were you in my study with envelope?”
“I was leaving you something.”
“What?”
She said nothing.
Then:
“A letter.”
“Where is it?”
“Not that.”
Matteo shook his head.
Luca ignored him.
“What letter?”
Vanessa looked toward dining room.
The house felt enormous around us.
Finally she said:
“One I wrote to you.”
“About what?”
“Matteo.”
Luca closed eyes.
Of course.
Everything kept circling same wound.
Then he asked:
“Where is your letter?”
Vanessa whispered:
“In the fireplace.”
No one moved.
“The study fireplace?” Luca asked.
“Yes.”
“Burned?”
“Yes.”
Matteo looked triumphant for one second.
Then Luca turned on him.
“You don’t get to look pleased.”
Matteo’s face fell.
Luca asked Vanessa:
“Why burn your letter?”
“Because I saw Matteo in hallway.”
“You saw him?”
“A reflection.”
So she knew.
She came out.
He disappeared.
Then she saw me with phone.
The pantry confrontation followed.
But the photo did not itself prove planted note.
Only Vanessa in study with an envelope.
The fourth note under blotter could have been planted by someone else earlier.
Then Evan entered.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“We checked the embosser.”
The Moretti crest press had a faint dark residue on the lower plate.
It proved nothing by itself.
Evan continued:
“There’s paper in wastebasket beside Vanessa’s dressing table.”
Everyone looked.
Vanessa’s attorney on speaker said:
“Do not search further without agreement.”
Correct.
Luca nodded.
No raid.
Vanessa said:
“You can look.”
Her attorney sighed.
The wastebasket contained three crumpled sheets.
One was a wedding seating sketch.
One a shopping list.
The third—
block letters.
HE WOULD RATHER—
The sentence stopped halfway.
Vanessa sat down.
Matteo stopped breathing.
May you like
Luca looked at her.
And this time, she did not say no.
