Chapter 2 - The Waitress Who Carried Isabella’s Last Secret
“She didn’t die in that crash.”
The sentence was barely louder than a whisper.
Yet inside the Obsidian Room, it felt like a bomb had exploded.
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
The wealthy guests who had spent the evening pretending they were untouchable suddenly remembered that they were standing in the same room as Vincent Romano.
A man who had built his reputation on never showing weakness.
A man who had just been told that the tragedy that destroyed his life might have been a carefully planned lie.
Vincent stared at Lydia.
For two years, he had heard the same story.
Rain.
A sharp turn.
A broken tire.
An accident.
He had repeated those words so many times that they had almost become a prayer.
But now a young waitress he had never met was standing in front of him, wearing a necklace that belonged to his dead wife, telling him everything he believed was wrong.
His fingers slowly loosened around her collar.
Not because he trusted her.
Because he was trying to understand how she could possibly know something nobody else knew.
“What did you say?”
Vincent’s voice was colder now.
The rage was still there.
But underneath it was something far more dangerous.
Fear.
Lydia could see it.
Not the fear of losing power.
Not the fear of enemies.
The fear of a husband realizing he might have failed the woman he loved.
“She didn’t die in an accident,” Lydia repeated.
Her voice shook slightly, but she refused to look away.
“Your wife knew someone wanted her gone.”
A silence followed.
Then Bruno stepped forward.
His heavy footsteps echoed across the restaurant floor.
“Boss.”
His voice was low.
“Let me handle this.”
Lydia immediately looked nervous.
Not because of Vincent anymore.
Because she knew men like Bruno were not interested in answers.
They were interested in eliminating problems.
Vincent raised one hand.
Bruno stopped.
“Everyone leaves.”
The command was quiet.
But everyone understood.
The restaurant staff immediately began moving guests away.
Nobody argued.
Nobody asked questions.
Within seconds, the elegant dining room that had been filled with conversations and laughter became empty.
Only broken glass remained on the floor.
The remains of a perfect evening destroyed by one necklace.
Vincent looked at Lydia.
“Start talking.”
Lydia swallowed.
She looked around the room.
Then at the men standing behind him.
Bruno.
Silas.
Especially Silas.
The way her eyes moved did not escape Vincent.
“You keep looking at him.”
Vincent nodded toward Silas.
“Why?”
Silas immediately stiffened.
“I have no idea what this girl is talking about.”
Lydia looked at him.
“That’s exactly what someone hiding something would say.”
Silas’s expression hardened.
“Careful.”
The warning in his voice made the room colder.
Vincent noticed.
And for the first time that night, he studied Silas differently.
Silas had been beside him for fifteen years.
He was there when Vincent built his first company.
He was there when Isabella entered his life.
He was there after the funeral.
He had been the one who helped Vincent survive those first unbearable months.
A trusted friend.
A brother.
A person Vincent never imagined questioning.
But now Lydia’s eyes had planted a seed.
And Vincent hated that seed because part of him already feared it might grow.
“Lydia,” Vincent said.
“Tell me how you got that necklace.”
Her fingers slowly touched the sapphire pendant.
The same pendant that had changed everything.
“I didn’t buy it.”
She paused.
“I didn’t steal it.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“Then where?”
Lydia looked down.
And for a moment, the fear on her face changed into sadness.
“I met Isabella Romano three months before she died.”
The room became silent again.
Vincent froze.
“What?”
“I worked at a small café near Lake Michigan back then.”
Lydia continued.
“She came in almost every morning.”
That surprised him.
Because Isabella never mentioned a café.
Never mentioned a waitress.
Never mentioned Lydia.
“She was different from what people said about her family,” Lydia said softly.
“She wasn’t cold. She wasn’t arrogant. She was kind.”
A painful expression crossed Vincent’s face.
Because that sounded exactly like Isabella.
The woman everyone else saw as a mafia wife was the woman he knew as someone who remembered every waiter’s name and always left extra tips.
“She noticed I was struggling,” Lydia continued.
“She knew my father was sick. She knew I was working too much.”
Vincent listened carefully.
“She helped me.”
“How?”
Lydia touched the necklace.
“She gave me this.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“No.”
His voice became sharper.
“She would never give that away.”
“I know.”
Lydia looked at him.
“That’s why I didn’t understand at first.”
She took a slow breath.
“She told me to keep it safe.”
Vincent stared.
“What exactly did she say?”
Lydia closed her eyes briefly.
As if replaying the memory.
“She said…”
Her voice softened.
‘Lydia, if anything happens to me, this necklace cannot disappear. Someone needs to know the truth.’
Vincent felt something break inside him.
Because Isabella had always trusted her instincts.
She was not careless.
She was not paranoid.
If she believed she was in danger, there had to be a reason.
“What else?”
Lydia hesitated.
Vincent stepped closer.
“What else did my wife tell you?”
“She told me not to trust everyone around her.”
The words hit harder than anything else.
Bruno looked at Silas.
Silas immediately noticed.
“What is this?”
Silas laughed nervously.
“This is ridiculous. A random waitress shows up wearing Isabella’s necklace and suddenly we believe every word she says?”
Vincent turned slowly.
“Did I ask you?”
Silas stopped.
The entire room changed.
Because everyone knew something had shifted.
Vincent was no longer looking at Lydia like an enemy.
He was looking at her like evidence.
“Continue,” Vincent said.
Lydia nodded.
“The night before she died, Isabella came to see me.”
Vincent’s expression changed.
“The night before?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“A parking garage.”
She looked down.
“She was scared.”
Those words hurt him.
Because Isabella had never been someone who frightened easily.
“She gave me the necklace and told me if something happened, I needed to bring it back to you.”
Vincent’s eyes moved to the pendant.
“Why didn’t you?”
Lydia looked ashamed.
“Because I was afraid.”
A moment passed.
“I didn’t know who to trust.”
She looked toward Silas again.
“And then I saw him.”
Silas’s face changed.
“What?”
Lydia pointed slightly.
“The man Isabella warned me about.”
Nobody spoke.
Vincent’s eyes became ice.
“Explain.”
Lydia’s voice dropped.
“She said the person who wanted her gone was someone close enough to know everything.”
The words hung in the air.
Someone close.
Someone trusted.
Someone inside.
Vincent slowly turned toward Silas.
For years, Silas had managed his businesses.
For years, Silas had access to information.
For years, Silas knew Isabella’s schedule.
Her habits.
Her movements.
Everything.
Silas shook his head.
“Vincent, you cannot seriously believe this.”
Vincent did not answer.
That silence was worse.
Because Silas knew him.
He knew when Vincent was angry.
He knew when Vincent was planning.
And right now, Vincent was thinking.
Bruno moved closer to Vincent.
“Boss.”
Vincent looked at him.
“Find everything about the accident.”
Bruno nodded.
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
Vincent looked back at Lydia.
“Police reports. Insurance records. Witness statements.”
His eyes hardened.
“And every person who was near my wife before she died.”
Silas stepped forward.
“This is insane.”
Vincent finally looked at him.
“No.”
His voice was quiet.
“What’s insane is that I spent two years mourning a lie.”
Nobody spoke.
Lydia watched the most powerful man in Chicago realize something terrifying.
The necklace was never just jewelry.
It was a message.
A message Isabella had left behind.
A final attempt to reach the one person she knew would never stop searching for her.
Vincent carefully removed the necklace from Lydia’s hand.
For a moment, his fingers touched the sapphire.
And he remembered Isabella smiling.
He remembered her saying she believed people revealed themselves eventually.
He had always thought those words were romantic.
Now they sounded like a warning.
Vincent looked at Lydia.
“Why did you come here tonight?”
Lydia hesitated.
“Because Isabella told me to.”
“When?”
“Before she died.”
Vincent stared at her.
“Why tonight?”
Lydia looked at the empty restaurant.
At the broken glass.
At the men surrounding them.
Then she quietly answered:
“Because October 14 was the day she told me the truth would finally come out.”
Vincent’s expression changed.
October 14.
The anniversary of Isabella’s death.
The exact date.
The necklace.
The waitress.
The warning.
Everything had been planned.
Not by him.
By Isabella.
And suddenly Vincent understood something that terrified him more than any enemy ever could.
His wife had known she might die.
And she had been preparing for it.
For two years, Vincent thought he lost Isabella in a tragic accident.
Now he realized something much worse.
Isabella had been trying to save him from something.
Something powerful enough to kill her.
And someone close enough to hurt him.
Vincent looked toward the dark windows of the restaurant.
The city lights reflected across his face.
The grieving husband was gone.
The businessman was gone.
What remained was the man Isabella had always believed he could become.
A man who would uncover the truth.
No matter who stood in his way.
“Find out who did this.”
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
Bruno nodded.
But before anyone could move, Lydia spoke again.
“There’s one more thing.”
Vincent turned.
“What?”
Her face became pale.
“Your wife didn’t just leave me the necklace.”
She reached into the hidden pocket of her uniform.
And slowly pulled out a small folded piece of paper.
Vincent stared at it.
“What is that?”
Lydia looked at him.
“The last thing Isabella gave me.”
She placed it in his hand.
“Something she said you would only understand when you were ready to know the truth.”
Vincent unfolded the paper.
And as his eyes moved across the first line, his entire expression changed.
May you like
Because written in Isabella’s handwriting were five words:
Do not trust Silas Moretti.
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