Chapter 1 - The Echo of the Venturi Mark
The sharp crack of Luciano’s hand against Bernadette’s cheek reverberates through the grand dining room, silencing the chatter of the gathered capos and relatives. Bernadette stumbles backward, catching herself against the edge of the mahogany table, her eyes wide with shock and venom. For a moment, the only sound is the crackle of the wood fire in the hearth.
“Never touch him again,” Luciano says, his voice dangerously low, stripped of any warmth. He keeps one hand firmly on Theo’s small shoulder, shielding the crying boy.
Felix, clutching the wooden toy train to his chest, retreats a step behind his mother, darting frightened glances between his parents. Bernadette straightens up, her cheek already blooming a bright, angry crimson. Rage twists her features into something ugly.
“You hit me? Over a bastard child and a worthless piece of junk?” Bernadette shrieks, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. “That train belongs to Felix! It has always belonged to Felix! That brat and his whore mother tried to steal everything from us, and you defend him?”
Luciano steps forward, towering over her. The capo he had been speaking with earlier tactfully steps back into the shadows of the hallway, signaling for the other guests to clear the room.
“Look at the bottom of the train, Bernadette,” Luciano commands, pointing a steady finger at the toy in Felix’s trembling hands. “Look at the initials. Those aren't mass-produced factory stamps. My father carved that set by hand in the winter of 1994—three years before I met you, and six years before Felix was born.”
Bernadette hesitates, her gaze flickering down to the toy. Felix whimpers and tries to tuck it behind his back, but Luciano gently reaches out, taking the train with a grip that brooks no argument. He flips it over, exposing the distinctive, interlocking V carved into the aged pine, identical to the name plaque hanging above Theo’s nursery door upstairs.
“This train was stolen from Theo’s playroom yesterday morning,” Luciano continues, his eyes locking onto his wife with chilling precision. “Along with his silver porringer and his mother’s locket. Everything locked inside the private west wing.”
Bernadextte’s breath catches in her throat, though her chin remains stubbornly raised. “The boy misplaces his things! Servants are careless! You’re accusing your own wife of thievery over a child’s game?”
May you like
“I am accusing you of a great deal more than theft,” Luciano whispers, handing the train back down to a sniffles-suppressing Theo. He kneels, wiping a tear from the boy’s cheek. “Go up to your room, little man. Daddy will be right up.”
As Theo scurries away, Luciano stands and turns his full, terrifying attention back to Bernadette. “And tonight, we are going to look at the security logs for the entire estate. Every single camera.”
