Chapter 4 - The Wedding Certificate Beneath the Floor|
I had never seen Francesca Moretti afraid of her own memories.
She could face powerful men without blinking.
She could silence an entire dining room with one look.
But standing beside Isabella's sleeping form, the old woman looked as though the past had finally come to collect a debt.
Luca stared at her.
"Grandfather was married before you?"
Francesca nodded.
"Briefly."
"To Alessandra Bellini?"
"No."
He frowned.
"Then who?"
Francesca looked toward me.
"A woman named Rosa DeLuca."
The name meant nothing to me.
But Luca went completely still.
"DeLuca?"
Francesca nodded.
I knew enough about Chicago's old criminal families to recognize the surname.
The DeLucas and Morettis had fought a bitter war in the 1980s.
Luca's father had lost two brothers during that conflict.
Even decades later, certain neighborhoods remained divided by loyalties most people no longer understood.
"Grandfather married a DeLuca?" Luca asked.
"In secret."
"Why?"
"Because he loved her."
Francesca said the words simply.
Then she sat down.
"Rosa was young, beautiful, and stubborn. Her family wanted her to marry a businessman from New York. Vittorio wanted her to run away with him."
I watched her fingers twist together.
"They married at a small church outside Milwaukee. Alessandra Bellini discovered it."
Luca looked toward the rosary.
"And she betrayed them?"
Francesca nodded.
"She told Rosa's family where the couple was staying."
"What happened?"
"Rosa disappeared."
Silence filled the room.
"Disappeared?" I repeated.
"Vittorio searched for her for months. Her family claimed she had returned to Italy."
"Did he believe them?"
"No."
Francesca looked toward Luca.
"He believed Alessandra had arranged her death."
Luca stared at the black beads.
"Then why would she still have his rosary?"
"Because she took it from Rosa's belongings."
Something cold moved through me.
"And now Vanessa has it," I whispered.
Francesca nodded.
"Alessandra kept it as proof that she knew Vittorio's secret."
Luca slowly sat down.
"But what does any of this have to do with Isabella?"
Francesca didn't answer immediately.
Then she said, "The wedding certificate."
"What certificate?"
"Vittorio and Rosa's marriage certificate. I kept it."
Luca frowned.
"Why?"
"Because Vittorio asked me to protect it. He believed Rosa had given birth to a child before she disappeared."
The room went completely silent.
A child.
Another branch of the Moretti family.
Another possible heir.
Luca looked at his grandmother.
"Did you ever find the child?"
Francesca's eyes filled.
"No. But I found evidence that Rosa survived for several years after her disappearance."
I swallowed.
"And the certificate?"
"In my wooden box."
Luca stood.
"Let's get it."
We left Isabella sleeping under the care of Maria, the longtime housekeeper, and two trusted security guards.
Francesca led us upstairs.
Her bedroom occupied the oldest wing of the mansion.
The room smelled of lavender and old books.
A small crucifix hung above the bed.
She pointed toward the dresser.
"Move it."
Luca pulled the heavy furniture away from the wall.
Beneath it was a loose floorboard.
I stared.
The wooden box I remembered had only been the outer hiding place.
Francesca knelt with difficulty.
I helped her.
She lifted the floorboard.
An empty space stared back at us.
Francesca made a small, terrible sound.
"It's gone."
Luca crouched beside her.
"What was inside?"
"A sealed envelope. The certificate. Rosa's letters."
He looked around the room.
"Who knew about this?"
Francesca shook her head.
"Only me."
Then she looked at me.
"And Emma."
My heart stopped.
Luca slowly turned.
I stared at his grandmother.
"Nonna, you never told me what was under the floor."
She nodded.
"No. But I asked you to move the dresser last winter."
I remembered.
After her hip injury, Francesca had insisted on rearranging her room.
I'd moved chairs, rugs, and the dresser.
But I'd never touched the floorboards.
Luca studied my face.
For one dreadful second, I saw suspicion.
It vanished almost immediately.
But I'd seen it.
And it hurt more than I expected.
"Emma didn't take it," Francesca said sharply.
Luca looked away.
"I didn't say she did."
"You thought it."
He said nothing.
Francesca reached for my hand.
"Someone wanted you to be blamed, my girl."
My stomach tightened.
Then Luca's phone rang.
Daniel.
Luca answered.
"Tell me."
He listened.
His expression became grim.
"Where?"
A pause.
Then he looked at me.
"The security footage shows Vanessa entering Nonna's bedroom yesterday afternoon."
I felt a brief rush of relief.
Until he continued.
"She wasn't alone."
Francesca gripped my hand.
Luca's voice became quiet.
"Daniel, whose face is on the footage?"
He listened.
Then slowly lowered the phone.
"Emma's mother."
For several seconds, I couldn't understand the words.
My mother?
A woman who worked at a small florist shop in the suburbs.
A woman who had never seemed comfortable inside the Moretti mansion.
A woman who had raised me to believe that loyalty meant telling the truth even when it hurt.
I shook my head.
"That's impossible."
May you like
Luca looked at me.
And for the first time that night, he had no answer.
