Chapter 1: The Empty Chair
THE MAF*A BOSS’S FIANCÉE CALLED ME “A SNEAKY LITTLE MAID” WHEN I PUT HIS SON’S EMPTY CHAIR BACK AT THE HEAD TABLE—BUT WHEN LUCA SAW THE PLACE CARD VANESSA HAD HIDDEN UNDER MY APRON, HE STOOD UP.
“Move that chair back to the kitchen.”
Vanessa Bellini stood beside the head table in a red silk gown, watching me pull a dining chair across the polished marble floor.
Thirty guests already held champagne.
White roses covered the center of the table.
And between Luca Moretti’s place setting and Vanessa’s was an empty space where a chair had been that morning.
“Mrs.
Bellini,” I said softly, “this is Matteo’s seat.”
“Not anymore.”
I stopped.
Vanessa moved closer.
“Claire, I am not repeating myself.”
Then she looked toward the staircase.
“He can eat downstairs.”
My stomach tightened.
“He’s Luca’s son.”
Her smile disappeared.
“And you are the maid.”
Then she leaned close enough that only I could hear her.
“Put the chair away before Luca comes in, or you can put your uniform away with it.”
I should have obeyed.
Instead, I pushed the chair back beside Luca’s.
And placed a handwritten card in front of it.
MATTEO MORETTI
Vanessa reached for the card.
I covered it with my hand.
That was when Luca stepped into the room.
My name is Claire Dawson.
I was twenty-nine and had worked at Luca Moretti’s Chicago mansion for almost a year.
Most people knew Luca as a man whose name made conversations quieter.
I knew him as the father who never started Sunday dinner until his thirteen-year-old son was sitting beside him.
Matteo’s mother had d*ed five years earlier.
Since then, Luca had raised him alone.
Not perfectly.
But deliberately.
School concerts.
Dentist appointments.
Saturday morning hardware-store trips.
Every report card went into the bottom drawer of Luca’s desk.
Every birthday breakfast was pancakes shaped badly enough to make Matteo laugh.
And whenever formal dinners happened at the mansion, Matteo sat beside his father.
Always.
So when I arrived that afternoon and saw his chair was missing, I assumed someone had made a mistake.
I brought it back.
Vanessa promptly had it removed again.
“He won’t be joining us.”
“Is he sick?”
“No.”
“Then where is he eating?”
She looked toward the service hallway.
“Downstairs.”
I thought I’d misunderstood.
“With the staff?”
Vanessa sighed.
“For heaven’s sake, Claire.
He’s thirteen.”
“That’s why I’m asking.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“He embarrassed me at lunch.”
Twenty minutes later, I saw Matteo sitting alone in the breakfast room.
He was already wearing his dark suit.
His tie was crooked.
Beside him sat one untouched plate.
“Why aren’t you upstairs?”
He shrugged.
“Vanessa says I lost dinner.”
“You lost dinner?”
“Not food.”
He gave a humorless little smile.
“My seat.”
I pulled out the chair across from him.
“What happened?”
Matteo stared at the table.
“She asked me what I was going to call her after the wedding.”
I waited.
“I said Vanessa.”
“And?”
“She said I’m supposed to call her Mom.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did you say?”
His eyes filled.
“I said I already had one.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
Matteo reached into his jacket pocket.
Then placed a little white card on the table.
His name had been crossed out in black ink.
On the back, Vanessa had written:
UNTIL YOU LEARN RESPECT, YOU WILL NOT SIT WITH THIS FAMILY.
I stared at it.
“Does your father know about this?”
Matteo shook his head.
“She said it was his decision too.”
I knew that was a lie.
That morning, Luca had personally checked the seating chart.
I had watched him tap Matteo’s name and tell the caterer:
“My son stays here.
Don’t move him.”
I looked back at Matteo.
“Did your father tell you anything about calling Vanessa Mom?”
“No.”
Then he said something that made my chest ache.
“Claire?”
“Yes?”
“If I call her Mom once, does that mean I’m being disloyal to my real mom?”
“No.”
He nodded.
Then whispered:
“But I don’t want to.”
That was when Vanessa appeared in the doorway.
“What are you doing here?”
I stood.
“Talking to Matteo.”
“I told you to finish the dining room.”
She saw the place card.
Then picked it up.
“Give me that.”
I didn’t.
Her face hardened.
“Claire.”
“He thinks Mr.
Moretti doesn’t want him at dinner.”
“That is between Luca and his son.”
“No, ma’am.”
She stared at me.
I continued carefully.
“Mr.
Moretti told the caterer this morning that Matteo was sitting beside him.”
For the first time, Vanessa looked caught off guard.
Then her expression changed.
“You heard wrong.”
“I was standing three feet away.”
She stepped closer.
“You need this job, don’t you?”
I did.
My mother still lived in the small house my father had worked thirty years to pay for.
Since he d*ed, I helped with the taxes and repairs.
Vanessa knew exactly how much I needed that paycheck.
She took Matteo’s place card from my hand.
“Go upstairs.”
Then she tore it in half.
Matteo flinched.
I watched the two pieces fall onto the table.
Vanessa turned away.
I picked them up.
And ten minutes later, I walked into the engagement dinner carrying Matteo’s chair.
Now Luca stood in the doorway watching me.
“Claire?”
Vanessa immediately smiled.
“Darling.
Claire is confused about the seating.”
Luca looked at the chair.
Then at the place card I had taped back together.
His eyes narrowed.
“Where’s Matteo?”
Vanessa answered.
“Cooling off downstairs.”
“For what?”
“He was disrespectful.”
Luca looked at me.
I didn’t say anything.
I didn’t need to.
He noticed the card.
“Give me that.”
I placed it in his hand.
He turned it over.
Read Vanessa’s message.
Then read it again.
His expression became completely still.
UNTIL YOU LEARN RESPECT, YOU WILL NOT SIT WITH THIS FAMILY.
Luca looked up.
“What does this mean?”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“He needs boundaries.”
“You removed my son from my table?”
“He told me I’m not his mother.”
“You’re not.”
The words landed hard.
Vanessa stared at him.
Luca continued.
“You’re going to be his stepmother.”
“Exactly.”
“No.”
His voice remained calm.
“Those are not the same thing.”
Nobody at the table moved.
Vanessa lowered her voice.
“I’m trying to build a family with you.”
“You don’t build one by making my son earn his place in the one he already has.”
Then Luca turned toward the service hallway.
“Matteo!”
A few seconds later, the boy appeared.
He stopped when he saw all the guests.
Luca held out one hand.
“Come here.”
Matteo walked slowly toward him.
“Dad, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
The boy glanced at Vanessa.
“For being disrespectful.”
“What did you say?”
Matteo swallowed.
“That I didn’t want to call her Mom.”
Luca crouched in front of him.
“You don’t have to.”
Matteo blinked.
“I don’t?”
“No.”
His son’s face crumpled with relief.
Luca pulled him into his arms.
“You had a mother.”
Matteo closed his eyes.
“You loved her.”
A nod.
“And loving Vanessa was never supposed to require you to erase her.”
Vanessa pushed back her chair.
“Luca, you’re making me sound like some monster because I expected basic respect.”
He stood.
“You told my thirteen-year-old son he wasn’t part of this family unless he called you Mom.”
“I was trying to help him accept reality.”
“What reality?”
“That things change when people remarry.”
Luca stared at her.
Then Matteo tugged on his sleeve.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Is my room changing too?”
Luca frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Vanessa went pale.
Matteo noticed.
So did I.
He reached into his pocket.
“I found this on my desk.”
It was a printed floor plan.
Luca unfolded it.
At the top were the words:
POST-WEDDING HOUSEHOLD PLAN
Several rooms had been relabeled.
Guest Suite.
Fitness Room.
Vanessa’s Dressing Room.
Then Luca found Matteo’s bedroom.
A red line had been drawn through it.
Beside it:
CONVERT TO SECOND MASTER CLOSET.
Luca’s eyes lifted slowly.
“Where is my son supposed to sleep?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“The third floor has plenty of space.”
“The third floor?”
“He’s thirteen, Luca.
He doesn’t need to be across the hall from you forever.”
Matteo looked at his father.
“She said I was moving up there Sunday.”
Luca turned back to Vanessa.
“You planned to move my son without discussing it with me?”
She looked around at the guests.
“This is not the place.”
But Matteo hadn’t finished.
“There’s another page.”
Vanessa suddenly stepped toward him.
“Matteo.”
Luca moved between them.
“What page?”
The boy took a folded sheet from inside his jacket.
“I wasn’t supposed to see it.”
Luca opened it.
His eyes moved down the page.
Then stopped.
At the top:
MORETTI RESIDENCE — STAFF & FAMILY ACCESS AFTER MARRIAGE
Matteo’s name was listed beside a restriction:
NO ACCESS TO EAST WING WITHOUT PERMISSION.
The east wing contained Luca’s study.
The family room.
And the small den where Luca and his son had spent nearly every Sunday night together since Sarah d*ed.
Luca looked at Vanessa.
“Permission from whom?”
She said nothing.
Matteo answered quietly.
“Her.”
For several seconds, nobody breathed.
Then Luca pulled out his son’s chair.
He placed it back beside his own.
“Sit down.”
Matteo did.
Luca took the torn place card and set it carefully in front of him.
Then he turned toward Vanessa.
Her place was still on his other side.
Luca picked up her name card.
He looked at it once.
And removed it from the table.
Vanessa’s face changed.
“Luca…”
He looked directly at the woman he was supposed to marry.
“My son never has to ask permission to belong in his own home.”
Then he placed the floor plan in front of her.
“Now you’re going to explain why you were planning my family’s life after the wedding without telling either of us.”
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What will Luca do when Vanessa’s full plan is exposed?
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