Chapter 1 - THE MIRROR THAT WAS NEVER MEANT TO REFLECT
Six more steps.
That was all I needed to reach the far wall.
But the antique mirror was nearly as tall as I was, and every time I adjusted its weight, a sharp pain spread across my lower back.
My right hand was slipping.
The gold frame was digging into my shoulder.
And twenty-six guests were watching me struggle beneath the chandeliers of Luca Moretti's Chicago mansion.
“For heaven's sake, Claire. Don't scratch the floor.”
Vanessa Bellini didn't bother lowering her voice.
I tightened my grip on the frame.
“I'm being careful, ma'am.”
“Then stop dragging it. That mirror cost more than you make in a year.”
I tried to take another step.
Pain shot through my back.
The mirror tilted toward the dining table.
Before I could catch it, a man's hand closed around the heavy wooden frame.
“Put it down.”
Luca Moretti had risen from his chair.
And he wasn't looking at the mirror.
He was looking at the way I was struggling to stand.
My name is Claire Bennett.
I was twenty-eight, had worked at the Moretti estate for eleven months, and had spent the last four hours pretending I hadn't injured my back.
Normally, I could move furniture with another housekeeper without thinking about it.
Tonight, bending even a few inches made me feel sick.
But my rent was due Friday.
My mother had another medical appointment the following week.
And Vanessa had already warned me that if I mentioned what happened in Luca's study that afternoon, I'd never work in another respectable household again.
So I'd taken two painkillers.
Changed my uniform.
And returned to work.
At the head of the table sat Luca Moretti.
Thirty-nine.
Black suit.
White shirt.
A man whose family controlled shipping businesses, waterfront warehouses, and enough of Chicago's criminal underworld to make his surname dangerous in almost any neighborhood.
Beside him sat Vanessa.
Red silk gown.
Diamond earrings.
A beautiful smile that hadn't left her face since the first guests arrived.
Luca helped me lower the mirror against the wall.
“Claire.”
My stomach tightened.
“Yes, Mr. Moretti?”
“What's wrong with your back?”
Before I could answer, Vanessa gave an embarrassed laugh.
“She fell in the conservatory this afternoon. Apparently, she can't move a piece of furniture without injuring herself.”
My heart nearly stopped.
Because I hadn't fallen in the conservatory.
And Vanessa knew perfectly well where I'd been hurt.
Luca slowly turned toward his fiancée.
“The conservatory?”
“Yes, darling. She was helping the decorator move some furniture.”
He looked back at me.
“Did you fall?”
I could feel Vanessa watching.
“Yes, sir.”
“When?”
“Around four.”
“What were you moving?”
I swallowed.
“A table.”
Vanessa immediately added, “The little marble table beside the windows.”
Luca glanced toward her.
“Was the decorator there?”
“Of course.”
“What's his name?”
Vanessa's smile tightened.
“Luca, honestly. Do you expect me to remember every contractor's name?”
He looked at me.
“Claire, did somebody see you fall?”
I couldn't answer.
Luca noticed.
Then he looked toward the enormous mirror.
“Where did this come from?”
“Your study, sir.”
Vanessa immediately interrupted.
“I asked her to bring it down for the engagement photographs. Apparently, that was too complicated as well.”
Luca frowned.
“That mirror was in the upstairs guest bedroom yesterday.”
“Yes, darling. I had it moved.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought it would look beautiful behind the dessert table.”
Luca studied her for a moment.
Then looked back at me.
“Claire, can you stand up straight?”
I tried.
Pain spread across my back.
I gripped the edge of the serving table before I could lose my balance.
One of the guests quietly put down her champagne glass.
Luca's expression changed.
“Have you seen a doctor?”
I shook my head.
Vanessa sighed.
“For heaven's sake, Luca. She pulled a muscle. Must we interrupt our engagement dinner?”
He ignored her.
“Claire, what actually happened this afternoon?”
I stared at the carpet.
My throat tightened.
“I had an accident, sir.”
Vanessa relaxed.
Only slightly.
But Luca saw it.
He turned toward her.
“Then why did you say she fell in the conservatory?”
“Because she did.”
He looked back at me.
“Claire, were you in the conservatory this afternoon?”
I hesitated.
“No, sir.”
Vanessa stopped smiling.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Luca quietly asked, “Are you afraid of losing your job?”
My eyes filled.
“Yes, sir.”
“You won't.”
Vanessa put down her glass.
“She's confused because she's embarrassed.”
Luca looked directly at her.
“Then let her answer.”
Silence.
He turned toward Mrs. Carter, the senior housekeeper.
“Help Claire upstairs. Arrange for Dr. Harris to examine her back.”
I immediately shook my head.
“Please, sir. I need the hours.”
“You'll be paid for the entire evening.”
“I can still help with dessert.”
“No.”
He glanced at the mirror.
“And nobody moves that until I say so.”
Vanessa's fingers tightened around her champagne glass.
As Mrs. Carter helped me toward the doorway, Luca called my name.
“Claire.”
I stopped.
“Was Vanessa in my study when you got hurt?”
My stomach dropped.
I looked toward her without meaning to.
Her smile was back.
But there was something in her eyes I recognized immediately.
A warning.
“Yes, sir.”
Luca's expression changed.
“Was anyone else there?”
I couldn't answer.
Vanessa reached for her champagne.
“Darling, surely this can wait until after dinner.”
Luca looked at me for several seconds.
Then nodded.
“Go see the doctor.”
I left.
And for the next forty minutes, he behaved as though nothing unusual had happened.
He finished dinner.
Discussed the wedding arrangements.
Even listened patiently while Vanessa talked about the photographer she'd hired for Saturday.
By dessert, she was smiling again.
She thought he'd forgotten about the mirror.
But at 10:06, while Vanessa was entertaining their remaining guests, Luca quietly left the dining room.
He asked Daniel Mercer, his head of security, to help him move the mirror into his study.
Then he closed the door.
“Daniel. Who brought this into the house?”
Daniel examined the frame.
“Miss Bellini's decorator delivered it last Thursday.”
Luca frowned.
“Thursday?”
“Yes, boss.”
Luca remembered.
Vanessa had insisted his study needed something above the fireplace. She said the room looked too masculine.
He allowed her to choose the mirror.
He had not understood why she had moved it to a guest bedroom on Tuesday, then returned it to his study that afternoon before insisting it be brought downstairs for the engagement photographs.
He examined the back.
Most of the wooden backing was old.
But one narrow section near the top had been recently replaced.
Two screws looked newer than the others.
Daniel brought a screwdriver from the maintenance room.
When Luca removed the small panel, he discovered a black electronic device no larger than a matchbox.
A tiny green light flashed.
Daniel leaned closer.
“Boss, that's a recording device.”
Luca stared at it.
“Get someone independent to preserve it. I want to know where the recordings went.”
Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in Luca's study with an ice pack against my back.
Dr. Harris had examined me and recommended further medical evaluation because I'd struck the edge of the desk and was having considerable difficulty moving.
Luca placed the recorder on his desk.
My face went pale.
“Claire. Is this what you found this afternoon?”
I nodded.
He leaned forward.
“Tell me what happened.”
My voice trembled.
“I was dusting your study when I heard someone talking.”
“Talking?”
“A man's voice.”
I swallowed.
“I thought somebody had left a phone connected to a call.”
“Where was it coming from?”
“Behind the mirror.”
I glanced at the recorder.
“The man said he couldn't hear anything clearly. Then Vanessa came into the room.”
Luca's expression hardened.
“What did she do?”
“She told me to get out.”
My eyes filled.
“But I asked whether something had been left behind the mirror.”
“And?”
“She became furious.”
I looked down at my hands.
“She pulled the mirror away from the wall. When I tried to steady it, she shoved me backward into the corner of your desk.”
Luca glanced at the ice pack.
“That's how you got hurt?”
I nodded.
“She told me I'd broken an expensive piece of furniture and that she'd deduct my wages if I told anyone.”
For several seconds, Luca said nothing.
Then he looked toward Daniel.
“Make sure the workplace incident is documented. Her medical care and time away from work must be handled properly.”
Daniel nodded.
Luca turned back to me.
“Did you see who installed the device?”
“No, sir.”
“Did you hear anything else?”
I hesitated.
Then slowly nodded.
“When Vanessa thought I'd gone, I heard her speaking to the man again.”
“What did she say?”
“She told him she'd have to move the mirror because the housekeeper had found it.”
Luca looked toward the closed study door.
Then his phone rang.
Daniel had stepped outside to speak with the security consultant.
“Boss, the recorder was configured to send audio to a private server. The specialist is preserving the available information, but identifying who controlled it will take more work.”
Luca looked at the mirror.
Last Thursday.
The day he'd met privately with his attorney.
The day he'd discussed documents he hadn't yet told Vanessa about.
He lowered the phone.
“Claire, did Vanessa say why she needed those recordings?”
I nodded.
“She said the man had better hurry.”
“Hurry with what?”
“She said that once you signed the papers on Saturday, it would be too late to change anything.”
Luca stared.
“What papers?”
“I don't know.”
Then I remembered the last thing I'd heard before Vanessa realized I was still outside the study.
My voice began trembling.
“Mr. Moretti, the man asked whether she was certain you hadn't changed your will.”
Luca went completely still.
“And what did Vanessa say?”
I looked toward the closed door.
Then repeated the words I'd been too frightened to say all evening.
“She said she didn't need you to change your will.”
I swallowed.
“She just needed the man listening to those recordings to make sure you never found out who you were really marrying.”
Luca's expression changed.
Not into anger.
Not yet.
Into the look of a man who had realized the danger was larger than the person sitting across the dinner table.
He reached for his phone.
“Daniel. Have the guests leave. Preserve the security records and contact Mara Quinn.”
Mara Quinn was his independent estate attorney.
The one person Vanessa had never liked him meeting without her.
Then Luca turned toward me.
“Claire, you need medical attention. The investigation can continue without you tonight.”
I started to protest.
He raised one hand, then stopped himself.
“Would you prefer Mrs. Carter to accompany you?”
I stared at him.
“Yes.”
He nodded.
And for the first time all evening, I left a room without wondering whether I would be punished for telling the truth.
What I didn't know was that, inside the mansion, Luca was about to discover the woman he planned to marry had spent fourteen months preparing for a wedding that was never really about love.
It was about a tragedy eight years earlier.
Six dead workers.
May you like
Eighteen million dollars.
And a secret that could destroy the Moretti name.
