Chapter 6 - THE BRACELET THAT OPENED THE PAST
Alessia hadn't worn the bracelet in eighteen years.
She kept it inside a small wooden box with her childhood belongings.
After her father died, Rosa had insisted she never throw it away.
Now Alessia understood why.
They returned to her room in the mansion.
The suitcase still stood beside the door.
Dante looked at it.
"Nobody should have packed your belongings without permission."
Alessia gave a tired smile.
"At least they folded everything."
He didn't smile.
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
She knelt beside the suitcase and searched for the wooden box.
It wasn't there.
Her stomach tightened.
"Where is it?"
Dante stepped closer.
"What are you looking for?"
"A small wooden box. It was in my dresser."
They searched the suitcase.
Every pocket.
Every folded sweater.
Every compartment.
Nothing.
Alessia stood.
"Someone took it."
Dante's expression hardened.
"Who packed your belongings?"
"Maria, according to Mrs. Conti."
He called Marco.
"Find Maria. Ask her about the missing box."
Minutes later, a frightened young housekeeper entered.
She looked barely twenty.
"Mr. Moretti?"
Dante gestured toward a chair.
"Sit down."
Maria remained standing.
"Did you pack Alessia's suitcase?"
She nodded.
"Yes, sir."
"Did you see a wooden box?"
Maria looked toward Alessia.
"Mrs. Conti told me not to pack it."
Alessia felt cold.
"Why?"
"She said it belonged to the household."
Dante's jaw tightened.
"Where did she take it?"
Maria swallowed.
"To the old music room."
The music room hadn't been used since Bianca Moretti died.
Dante led Alessia through a long hallway.
Dust covered the grand piano.
The curtains were closed.
A faint smell of old roses lingered in the air.
Alessia stopped.
For some reason, the room felt familiar.
She looked toward the piano.
"I've been here before."
Dante turned.
"What?"
"When I was little."
He frowned.
"Are you sure?"
Alessia nodded slowly.
"I remember sitting on that bench. A woman played music while my mother stood near the door."
Dante stared at her.
"My mother used to play piano every evening."
Alessia's throat tightened.
The memory returned in fragments.
A warm hand smoothing her hair.
A silver bracelet fastened around her wrist.
A woman's voice whispering:
Keep this safe, sweetheart.
Dante opened the piano bench.
Inside lay the missing wooden box.
Alessia reached for it.
The bracelet rested on a velvet cushion.
She picked it up.
A tiny black rose was engraved beneath the clasp.
Dante examined it.
"My mother wore a matching necklace."
Alessia turned the bracelet over.
A narrow seam ran along the inside.
She pressed it.
A tiny compartment opened.
Inside was a folded strip of paper.
Three numbers.
317.
And beneath them, one word.
Union.
Dante stared.
"Union Station."
Alessia looked up.
"Chicago?"
He nodded.
"There's a private luggage storage facility near the station."
He reached into his pocket.
The brass key from his mother's safe.
317.
The same number.
Dante closed his hand around it.
"My mother didn't hide the evidence in the mansion."
Alessia's heart raced.
"Then where?"
Dante looked toward the window.
May you like
"Somewhere Bellini couldn't reach without the key."
And for the first time, Alessia realized the tiny bracelet she'd carried through childhood might contain the secret that could destroy Lorenzo Bellini.
