Chapter 1 - The Watch on My Wrist
The pregnant waitress stumbled against a chair and cried, "Don't touch me again!"
Adrian Moretti crossed the dining room and caught sight of the old watch on her wrist.
Three letters were scratched beneath the clasp.
E.M.R.
Adrian stopped breathing.
His brother hadn't taken that watch to the grave.
For several seconds, nobody inside St. Cordova moved.
Not the violinist near the private bar.
Not the waiter holding a bottle of Burgundy halfway above a crystal glass.
Not the gray-haired businessman seated near the windows.
Even Celeste Marquetti seemed frozen with her jeweled hand still lifted in the air, as though the slap had happened so quickly that her body had not yet understood what her temper had done.
The woman she had struck was bent forward beside an overturned chair.
Her name was Nora Reyes.
She was twenty-eight years old, eight months pregnant, exhausted from a ten-hour shift she should never have accepted, and desperately trying not to cry.
One hand covered her cheek.
The other rested beneath the curve of her belly.
She had learned months earlier that crying in front of people like Celeste only gave them something else to use against you.
So Nora straightened.
Slowly.
Pain burned across the left side of her face.
"You ruined my dress," Celeste snapped.
Nora looked at the small red stain near the hem of the woman's purple gown.
A single drop of wine.
That was what had started it.
A single drop.
"I apologized," Nora said quietly.
"You bumped into me."
"You stepped backward while I was passing."
Celeste's eyes narrowed.
Around them, wealthy diners suddenly became fascinated by their plates.
Nora knew the type.
They had watched the whole thing.
Later, they would tell each other how terrible it had been.
Right now, none of them wanted to become involved.
Celeste took one step toward Nora.
Then somebody moved between them.
Adrian Moretti did not raise his voice.
He did not need to.
"Enough."
Celeste's expression changed immediately.
"Adrian."
Nora recognized the name before she recognized the man.
Almost everyone in Boston did.
Adrian Moretti owned Moretti Maritime, three luxury hotels, several commercial properties along the harbor, and enough private companies that journalists had spent years trying to determine where his legitimate businesses ended and the whispered Moretti organization began.
Nora had heard stories.
People lowered their voices when they said his last name.
They said Adrian never threatened anyone twice.
They said judges knew his lawyers by first name.
They said half the men who feared him still wanted invitations to his parties.
Nora did not know which stories were true.
At that moment, she cared about none of them.
She just wanted to sit down.
Adrian's attention, however, was no longer on Celeste.
It was on Nora's left wrist.
The sleeve of her uniform had shifted upward when she caught herself against the chair.
The old stainless-steel watch was fully visible.
Adrian stared at it as though somebody had placed a loaded gun between them.
"Where did you get that?"
Nora followed his gaze.
"My watch?"
"Yes."
Celeste gave a short, irritated laugh.
"Adrian, seriously? She's a waitress who nearly dumped a tray on me."
"Be quiet, Celeste."
The words were almost gentle.
That made them worse.
Celeste's mouth closed.
Adrian stepped closer to Nora.
She instinctively backed away.
His eyes flicked toward her belly, then toward the red mark on her cheek.
His expression softened by a fraction.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said.
Nora almost laughed.
Men who had to say that usually weren't comforting.
"Where did you get the watch?"
"It was given to me."
"By whom?"
Nora hesitated.
The entire restaurant seemed to be listening now.
"My husband."
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"What's his name?"
"My husband died."
Something passed through Adrian's face.
Not sympathy.
Recognition.
"His name."
Nora swallowed.
"Eli."
The sound that came from behind Adrian was small.
But Nora heard it.
Celeste had inhaled sharply.
Adrian turned his head.
Only slightly.
Nora saw Celeste's face lose its color.
That frightened her more than Adrian's questions.
"His full name," Adrian said.
Nora looked from him to Celeste.
"Eli Reyes."
Adrian stared at her.
For almost five seconds, he said nothing.
Then he held out his hand.
"The watch."
"No."
His eyebrows rose.
Nora tightened her wrist against her body.
"It belonged to my husband."
"I only want to look at it."
"You can look from there."
For the first time, something almost human entered Adrian's expression.
Surprise.
Maybe even respect.
He crouched slightly so he could see the underside of the metal clasp without touching her.
His eyes found the engraving.
E.M.R.
Nora had always assumed the letters meant Elias Mateo Reyes.
Her husband's name.
But Adrian whispered something.
"Elias Matteo Moretti."
Nora's stomach tightened.
"What did you say?"
Adrian straightened.
Behind him, Celeste suddenly interrupted.
"This is ridiculous."
Nobody looked at her.
Her voice became sharper.
"Adrian, whatever cheap imitation she's wearing—"
"It's not an imitation."
Celeste stopped.
Adrian pointed toward the watch.
"My father gave that watch to my brother on his twenty-first birthday."
Nora stared at him.
"No."
"I was there."
"No."
"There are only two like it. Mine is in my safe."
Nora shook her head.
"My husband bought it before we met."
"He lied."
The words struck almost as hard as Celeste's hand.
Nora's expression hardened.
"Don't talk about him."
"I'm telling you what I know."
"And I'm telling you you're wrong."
Adrian studied her.
"How long were you married?"
"Three years."
"When did he die?"
"Seven months ago."
Adrian's face went completely still.
"My brother died seven months ago."
Nora felt the room tilt.
She reached for the back of the chair.
"No."
"March eighteenth."
Her fingers tightened around the chair.
That was the date.
The same date printed on Eli's death certificate.
The same date Nora had stood inside a hospital hallway while a doctor she barely remembered told her that her husband had been killed in a highway accident outside Providence.
The same date her life had split into before and after.
"Coincidence," she whispered.
Adrian did not answer.
Nora looked toward Celeste again.
The blonde woman was staring at the floor.
"Why does she look scared?"
Adrian followed Nora's gaze.
Celeste's posture changed immediately.
"I'm not scared."
"You knew Eli," Nora said.
Celeste laughed too quickly.
"I've never met your husband."
Nora noticed Adrian looking at Celeste now.
Not casually.
Carefully.
"She said Eli," Adrian murmured.
Celeste frowned.
"What?"
"When Nora first said her husband's name, you reacted."
"I reacted because this whole conversation is absurd."
Adrian took a step toward her.
"You knew my brother used Elias."
"I knew everybody called him Eli."
"He stopped using that name around the family when he was nineteen."
Silence.
Celeste's eyes flicked toward the restaurant exit.
Adrian noticed.
So did Nora.
A manager finally approached.
Mr. Bellini looked as though he wanted to disappear into his own tuxedo.
"Ms. Reyes," he whispered, "perhaps you should go home."
Nora stared at him.
"You're firing me?"
"No, no, of course not. I simply think—"
"She was assaulted in your dining room," Adrian said.
Bellini went pale.
"Mr. Moretti, I saw—"
"You saw enough to stop it."
"I was across the room."
"So were twenty other people."
Bellini's mouth closed.
Adrian looked toward Nora.
"You need a doctor."
"I'm fine."
"You're eight months pregnant and somebody hit you."
"She hit my face."
"You almost fell."
Nora hated that he was right.
A tightening moved across her abdomen.
She pressed her palm against it.
Adrian saw the motion.
His entire expression changed.
"Are you having contractions?"
"No."
Another tightening came.
Stronger.
Nora breathed through it.
Adrian pulled out his phone.
"I'm calling an ambulance."
"No."
"Nora."
"I said no."
"Then my driver takes you."
"I don't know you."
"You might know my brother."
"I knew my husband."
The distinction hung between them.
Adrian lowered his phone.
"Then help me understand why those appear to be the same man."
Nora wanted to leave.
She wanted her tiny apartment in Dorchester.
She wanted the ugly green sofa Eli used to complain about.
She wanted the quiet box beneath her bed containing his photographs and letters.
Most of all, she wanted Eli to walk through the restaurant doors and explain why a stranger was standing in front of her claiming he had buried the same man she had buried.
Instead, Celeste spoke.
"Adrian, don't do this here."
He turned.
"Do what?"
Celeste looked toward Nora.
For a moment there was no arrogance on her face.
Only fear.
"Some things stayed buried for a reason."
Nora's blood went cold.
Adrian moved before she could.
He grabbed Celeste's wrist—not violently, but firmly enough to stop her from walking away.
"What did you just say?"
Celeste pulled free.
"You heard me."
"Explain it."
"Not here."
Nora stepped closer.
"Yes. Here."
Celeste looked at her.
The contempt returned, but it was weaker now.
"You don't understand what kind of family you've involved yourself with."
"My husband was my family."
"Apparently," Celeste whispered, "he had another one."
Nora felt the sentence enter her like a blade.
Adrian's eyes hardened.
"Celeste."
But Nora lifted her hand.
"No. Let her talk."
Celeste glanced at Adrian.
Something unspoken passed between them.
Then Celeste picked up her clutch from the table.
"I'm leaving."
Adrian blocked her path.
"No."
"You don't control me."
"Tonight I do."
Celeste smiled.
"Still pretending you're the only Moretti who knows how to frighten people?"
Adrian froze.
Nora watched him carefully.
"What does that mean?"
Celeste realized she had said too much.
Adrian's voice dropped.
"Where is my brother?"
Celeste stared at him.
"Dead."
"Then why are you afraid of his watch?"
No answer.
Adrian looked toward two men near the entrance.
Nora had assumed they were diners.
They weren't.
Both stood immediately.
"Nobody leaves," Adrian said.
A wave of nervous conversation moved through the room.
Celeste stared at him.
"You've lost your mind."
"Maybe."
Adrian pointed toward Nora.
"You hit a pregnant woman wearing my dead brother's watch, then told us secrets were buried for a reason. You're staying."
Nora's phone vibrated in her apron.
She almost ignored it.
Then it vibrated again.
Unknown number.
Her hands trembled as she opened the message.
There was no text.
Only a photograph.
Nora stopped breathing.
The picture showed her apartment building.
Taken from across the street.
Taken tonight.
A second message arrived.
THIS WAS YOUR ONLY WARNING. REMOVE THE WATCH.
Adrian saw her face.
"What is it?"
Nora turned the screen toward him.
His eyes sharpened.
"Who knows where you live?"
"Nobody from here."
"Family?"
"My mother. My landlord. A friend from work."
Adrian reached for his phone.
Nora's screen lit again.
A third message.
This one contained a photograph of Eli.
Alive.
Standing beside a black SUV.
The timestamp at the bottom was from six days after his supposed death.
Nora's knees weakened.
Adrian caught her elbow before she fell.
She stared at the image.
"No."
Adrian enlarged it.
His face drained of color.
"That's Elias."
Nora looked at him.
"My husband died on March eighteenth."
Adrian's voice was barely audible.
"So did my brother."
The restaurant doors suddenly opened.
One of Adrian's men turned toward them.
A young courier stood outside, soaked from the rain and holding a small black envelope.
"Delivery for Nora Reyes."
Nobody moved.
The courier looked nervous.
"He said she'd understand when she saw the name."
Nora stared at the envelope.
One word had been written across the front.
May you like
In Eli's handwriting.
WIFE.
