Chapter 6 - THE MAN EVERYONE CALLED FAMILY|
For almost a minute, Luca stared at the photograph without speaking.
His uncle Dominic had been more than a relative.
After Luca's father died, Dominic became the man who kept the Moretti family together.
He had taught Luca how to negotiate, how to recognize betrayal, and how to survive a world where trust could be deadly.
He'd attended Elena's memorial service.
He'd held Isabella while she cried.
He'd even introduced Vanessa to Luca at a charity gala nearly a year after Elena disappeared.
Now he was standing beside the vehicle connected to my mother's disappearance.
“I need to call him,” Luca said.
Detective Bennett raised a hand.
“Not yet.”
“He's my uncle.”
“And he may know where Margaret Carter is.”
Luca's jaw tightened.
“If Dominic is involved, we need to understand why.”
Bennett nodded.
“Then we investigate before we alert him.”
I kept staring at the photograph.
Something about my mother's expression bothered me.
Margaret wasn't smiling the way she did when she greeted friends.
Her lips were curved, but her eyes looked tense.
I knew that expression.
She used it when she was trying not to frighten me.
“She recognized him,” I whispered.
Luca turned.
“What?”
“My mother recognized the man.”
I pointed at the screen.
“She wasn't smiling because she wanted to go with him.”
“She was pretending everything was normal.”
Bennett studied the image.
“Has your mother met Dominic before?”
“Not that I know of.”
Luca looked thoughtful.
“Dominic oversees a charitable foundation.”
I frowned.
“What kind?”
“Medical assistance, housing support, scholarships.”
My chest tightened.
“My mother applied for a medical assistance grant last winter.”
“Through which foundation?”
I tried to remember the paperwork.
A woman from the hospital had suggested a private charity.
Margaret had received help covering rehabilitation expenses.
I had been relieved.
We'd never questioned where the money came from.
“The North Shore Community Relief Fund,” I said.
Luca's expression darkened.
“That belongs to Dominic.”
Suddenly, everything fit together in the worst possible way.
Vanessa's interest in Margaret's medical history.
The envelope of money in my locker.
The strange questions about our house.
Someone had been studying my family long before I discovered the locked bedroom.
“Why?” I whispered.
“Why would they care about us?”
Luca couldn't answer.
Detective Bennett asked for copies of the charity application and any correspondence connected to the grant.
Then she stepped into the hallway to coordinate with financial investigators.
I stood beside the window, struggling to breathe.
Luca approached but stopped a respectful distance away.
“Emily, there's something you should know.”
I looked at him.
“Dominic didn't approve of Elena.”
I frowned.
“Why not?”
“Because she wanted me to leave the organization.”
He spoke without pride.
“After Isabella was born, Elena told me she wouldn't raise our daughter around violence.”
I remembered seeing photographs of Elena in the mansion.
She always looked elegant, but never cold.
There was something determined about her eyes.
“She wanted a different life,” Luca continued.
“She wanted me to build legitimate businesses and stop pretending our family traditions were honorable.”
“Did you agree?”
He looked away.
“Not quickly enough.”
I could hear the regret.
“She threatened to leave if I didn't start changing things.”
“And did you?”
“I started.”
He paused.
“But I kept telling myself I needed another year.”
Another year.
Sometimes people lost everything while waiting for the perfect moment to become better.
Luca understood that now.
“Elena found something in my father's financial records,” he continued.
“She said the organization was involved in things even I didn't know about.”
“The ledger?”
“Probably.”
He looked toward the darkness outside.
“She wanted to go to the authorities.”
I stared at him.
“What stopped her?”
“Her accident.”
Neither of us spoke.
Then Luca whispered, “Except it wasn't an accident.”
A police officer approached and informed us that a search of the storage room had been completed.
The investigators had recovered several documents, but the music box remained missing.
Luca asked whether we could check Isabella's bedroom for any other clues.
Detective Bennett permitted a supervised search after the room was documented.
When we entered, Isabella was sitting on her bed with a police family-support specialist.
She looked exhausted.
But she immediately brightened when she saw me.
“Emily!”
I sat beside her.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
She leaned against my shoulder.
“Are you going to sleep here tonight?”
I glanced at Luca.
“I'm not sure yet.”
Isabella's face fell.
“Please don't leave.”
Luca sat on her other side.
“Bella, Emily's mother needs our help.”
Isabella looked up.
“Is her mommy missing too?”
I swallowed.
“Yes.”
She became very quiet.
Then she climbed off the bed.
“Wait.”
She hurried toward her bookshelf.
Behind a row of storybooks, she pulled out a small notebook covered in silver stars.
She handed it to me.
“Mommy told me to write things down when I was scared.”
I opened it.
The first pages contained drawings.
A pink bicycle.
A brown puppy.
A girl holding her mother's hand.
Then the pictures changed.
One drawing showed a large black door.
Another showed a woman in a red dress standing beside a man.
Beneath it, Isabella had written in careful handwriting:
The man with the silver stick came again.
My heart began racing.
“Bella, who is this man?”
She pointed toward the drawing.
“Uncle Dominic.”
Luca leaned forward.
“When did he come?”
“A lot.”
“Where did you see him?”
“In the hallway.”
She paused.
“He went into Mommy's old room.”
Luca's face tightened.
“What did he do there?”
Isabella thought for a moment.
“Sometimes he yelled.”
“At whom?”
“The lady.”
I looked at her.
“The woman who sang to you?”
She nodded.
“Once he told her to stop being difficult because nobody was coming to save her.”
Luca closed his eyes.
Isabella continued.
“He said the wedding was almost here.”
The room felt suddenly colder.
“What wedding?” I asked gently.
“Daddy's wedding to Vanessa.”
She looked at Luca.
“He said once Vanessa was your wife, nobody would believe the lady anymore.”
I exchanged a horrified glance with Luca.
The plan wasn't merely to keep Elena hidden.
It was to make Vanessa's position permanent while discrediting the woman who could expose them.
I turned another page.
There was a drawing of a music box.
A small ballerina stood on top.
Beside it, Isabella had drawn a heart and written:
The rose opens when you press the star.
I stared at the picture.
“Bella, what does this mean?”
She smiled faintly.
“It's the secret Nonna showed me.”
“What secret?”
“The music box has a hiding place.”
Luca leaned closer.
“Where?”
Isabella pointed to the drawing.
“Under the ballerina.”
My heart pounded.
“Does Vanessa know?”
Isabella shook her head.
“I never told her.”
Then she said something that changed everything.
“But I gave the box to Miss Clara.”
I blinked.
“Clara Whitmore?”
Isabella nodded.
“She came to my room when Vanessa was shouting downstairs.”
“She told me Mommy had asked her to keep something safe.”
I looked at Luca.
Clara hadn't stolen the box.
She had hidden it.
“Bella,” Luca asked carefully, “did Clara say where she was taking it?”
Isabella thought for several seconds.
Then her eyes brightened.
“She said she was going somewhere Vanessa wouldn't look.”
“Where?”
“To visit a friend.”
“What friend?”
Isabella shrugged.
“She didn't tell me the name.”
I felt disappointment settle over me.
Then Isabella reached into her pajama pocket.
“But she gave me this.”
She held out a folded piece of paper.
Luca opened it carefully.
There were only four words written inside.
Ask Emily about Naples.
My breath caught.
Naples.
My grandmother.
The language that Vanessa had believed I couldn't speak.
I looked at the handwriting.
Then I remembered something I'd forgotten until that moment.
Clara had once asked whether my grandmother still owned a particular little apartment in Naples.
I'd told her that my grandmother had sold it years ago.
But I'd mentioned something else.
Our family's old parish church.
The church where my grandmother had married my grandfather.
I stared at Luca.
“I think Clara was trying to tell me something.”
His phone rang before I could explain.
Detective Bennett appeared in the doorway.
“Mr. Moretti, we've located your uncle.”
Luca stood immediately.
“Where?”
“At his foundation office.”
“Is Margaret there?”
“We don't know yet.”
Bennett's expression was troubled.
“But Dominic has just contacted his attorney.”
“Why?”
She looked directly at Luca.
“He's claiming that Margaret Carter voluntarily requested protective custody.”
My stomach dropped.
“Protective custody from whom?”
The detective hesitated.
Then answered.
“From you, Mr. Moretti.”
Luca stared at her.
And for the first time, I understood just how dangerous Dominic's game could become.
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Because he wasn't merely hiding evidence.
He was trying to make the police believe Luca Moretti was the villain.
