Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO ORDERED OUR DISAPPEARANCE|
"Because your father wasn't the one who ordered them to disappear."
Vanessa Bellini's voice was barely louder than a whisper.
But inside the enormous dining room, it sounded like a gunshot.
Thirty wealthy guests sat motionless beneath the chandeliers.
The champagne she'd knocked over spread across the white tablecloth.
Adrian Moretti stood beside me, his tattooed hand gripping the back of a chair so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
"What did you just say?"
Vanessa looked toward the closed dining-room doors.
"Adrian, please."
He didn't move.
"Who ordered my mother and sister to disappear?"
Her lips trembled.
I held Sophie closer.
My five-year-old daughter had stopped crying, but her little fingers were still wrapped around my apron.
She didn't understand why everyone had become so quiet.
She only knew that the woman who'd frightened her was now frightened herself.
"Mommy?"
I crouched beside her.
"It's okay, sweetheart."
She touched my cheek.
"Is the angry lady going to yell again?"
My heart broke.
Before I could answer, Adrian knelt on Sophie's other side.
"No, little one."
His voice softened.
"Nobody is going to yell at you again."
Sophie studied him.
"Promise?"
Adrian looked at her for a long moment.
Then nodded.
"Promise."
Vanessa let out a bitter laugh.
"Wonderful."
She gestured toward us.
"Now you're making promises to a maid's child?"
Adrian stood.
"That child may be my niece."
The silence became absolute.
One of the guests gasped.
Another lowered his champagne glass.
Vanessa stared at him.
"You don't know that."
"No."
Adrian looked at me.
"But I'm going to find out."
My knees felt weak.
For twenty-six years, I'd believed my mother and I were alone in the world.
Lucia Valenti had raised me in a small apartment outside Naples.
She'd taught me to read.
To cook.
To work hard.
To never trust anyone who offered something expensive without explaining the price.
And every night, when I was little, she'd sung the same lullaby.
Sleep, little sparrow, the bells will ring.
Now a man I'd known only as my employer was telling me that song belonged to his childhood.
That his mother had sung it.
That he'd once carried a baby girl out of a burning nursery.
And that the scar on my wrist might connect us.
I looked at him.
"Mr. Moretti?"
His expression changed.
"Adrian."
I swallowed.
"How can you be sure?"
He glanced at my wrist.
"Because I remember everything about that fire."
His voice became quieter.
"I remember the smoke coming beneath the nursery door."
"I remember my baby sister crying."
"And I remember my mother screaming for me to run."
Vanessa closed her eyes.
Adrian noticed.
"What do you know about the fire?"
She shook her head.
"Nothing."
"Then why did you react when Elena mentioned the music box?"
Vanessa glanced toward the guests.
"Because this is humiliating."
Adrian stepped closer.
"Who told you about the blue bird?"
Her face drained of color.
"I don't remember."
"You offered Elena five thousand dollars for that box."
I stared at her.
"How did you know that?"
Adrian looked toward me.
"Did she?"
I nodded.
"On my first day."
His expression hardened.
Vanessa lifted her chin.
"I collect antiques."
"You've never collected music boxes."
"People develop interests."
Adrian shook his head.
"Not like this."
He turned toward the security men.
"Frank."
The taller guard stepped forward.
"Yes, sir?"
"Nobody is to touch Elena or Sophie."
"Understood."
"And have someone contact Mrs. Carter."
The housekeeper stood near the service entrance.
"I'm here, sir."
Adrian looked toward Sophie.
"Would you prepare something warm for the little girl?"
Mrs. Carter nodded.
"Of course."
I immediately tightened my arms around my daughter.
"No."
Everyone looked at me.
My face burned.
"I'm sorry."
I swallowed.
"But Sophie stays with me."
Adrian studied my face.
Then nodded.
"Of course."
It was such a simple answer.
No argument.
No order.
No reminder that I worked for him.
Just acceptance.
And somehow, that frightened me more than his anger.
Because I'd spent seven months in this mansion learning that people with money expected obedience.
Now the most powerful man in the room was asking what I wanted.
Vanessa stepped forward.
"Adrian, we need to speak privately."
He turned toward her.
"We can speak here."
"These people don't need to hear our personal business."
He looked toward the guests.
"You're right."
For a moment, she seemed relieved.
Then he continued.
"The dinner is over."
A murmur moved through the room.
Adrian addressed the guests.
"I apologize for the interruption."
His voice remained calm.
"But there's a family matter that requires my immediate attention."
He looked toward Frank.
"Please arrange for everyone to leave."
Vanessa grabbed his arm.
"Adrian!"
He gently removed her hand.
"And make sure everyone understands that Elena and her daughter are entitled to their privacy."
Several guests rose.
Chairs scraped across the marble floor.
Nobody asked questions.
Nobody dared approach me.
Within minutes, the dining room began to empty.
I watched women in expensive gowns collect their handbags.
Men in tailored suits lowered their voices.
People who had witnessed Vanessa humiliate my daughter walked past us without looking directly at her.
One elderly woman stopped.
She wore a pearl necklace and carried a silver walking cane.
"Young lady."
I looked up.
"Yes, ma'am?"
She glanced at Sophie.
"Your little girl did nothing wrong."
My eyes filled.
"Thank you."
The woman looked toward Vanessa.
"Some people confuse wealth with breeding."
Then she walked away.
For the first time that evening, Vanessa seemed genuinely embarrassed.
When the last guest disappeared, Adrian turned back toward her.
"Now."
His voice became cold.
"Tell me who ordered my mother and sister to disappear."
Vanessa looked toward the floor.
"I shouldn't have said anything."
"But you did."
"Adrian, there are things you don't understand about your family's history."
"Then explain them."
She took a shaky breath.
"Your father wasn't responsible for everything."
Adrian went still.
"Everything?"
Vanessa swallowed.
"The fire."
"The separation."
"The records."
My heart stopped.
"What records?"
She looked toward me.
Then quickly away.
Adrian noticed.
"Vanessa."
Her voice cracked.
"Your mother didn't simply run away."
He stared at her.
"Then what happened?"
Vanessa shook her head.
"I can't tell you."
"Why?"
"Because I promised."
"Promised whom?"
She began crying.
"Please don't make me say it."
Adrian's expression hardened.
"You brought my sister into this house."
Vanessa looked up.
"You put her in a servant's uniform."
"You threatened her livelihood."
"And tonight, you put your hands on her five-year-old daughter."
I held Sophie tighter.
Vanessa wiped her cheeks.
"I didn't know the child was sick."
I stared at her.
"I told you."
She looked away.
"I told you she was dizzy."
Adrian took a slow breath.
"Elena, is Sophie all right?"
I nodded shakily.
"She has episodes sometimes."
His expression softened.
"What kind?"
"The doctors are still evaluating them."
I looked down at my daughter.
"She gets dizzy, especially when she hasn't eaten enough."
Sophie whispered, "I'm hungry, Mommy."
My chest tightened.
Adrian immediately turned toward Mrs. Carter.
"Please bring something she can eat."
"Of course, sir."
Vanessa folded her arms.
"This is getting ridiculous."
Adrian slowly looked at her.
"No."
His voice was barely audible.
"What's ridiculous is that my sister may have spent seven months cleaning floors in my home while you knew who she was."
Vanessa's lips trembled.
"She applied for the job."
I looked up.
That wasn't entirely true.
I'd answered an advertisement through an employment agency.
But Vanessa had called me personally before the interview.
She'd asked unusual questions.
Where was I born?
What was my mother's maiden name?
Had she ever lived in Chicago?
Had she left behind anything from Italy?
At the time, I'd assumed wealthy families were simply careful about hiring employees.
Now every question felt different.
"Miss Bellini," I whispered.
She looked toward me.
"Why did you ask about my mother's things?"
She didn't answer.
"Why did you offer to buy Sophie's music box?"
Vanessa turned away.
Adrian stepped closer.
"Answer her."
She shook her head.
"Because I wanted what was inside."
My stomach dropped.
Adrian froze.
"What was inside?"
Vanessa pressed her hand against her mouth.
Then whispered, "Something your mother wasn't supposed to keep."
I felt my heart hammering.
"What?"
She looked at me.
And for the first time, the anger disappeared from her face.
What remained was fear.
"A recording."
Adrian stopped breathing.
Vanessa continued.
"Your mother recorded a conversation the night before the fire."
He stared at her.
"Whose conversation?"
She began crying.
"Two people discussing what would happen to her children."
I couldn't speak.
Adrian's voice dropped.
"Who were they?"
Vanessa backed toward the table.
Then whispered, "One was your father's business partner."
Adrian went completely still.
"Vittorio Bellini?"
Vanessa closed her eyes.
"My father."
I stared at her.
Adrian slowly shook his head.
"Your father died ten years ago."
"Yes."
"Then who was the second person?"
Vanessa's breathing quickened.
She looked toward the entrance.
Then toward the windows.
And finally toward Adrian.
"Someone who's still alive."
"Who?"
She shook her head.
"Someone who knows you're asking questions."
Adrian frowned.
"Vanessa."
She suddenly grabbed his wrist.
"Listen to me."
Her voice trembled.
"If Elena still has that music box, you need to get it before they do."
My blood ran cold.
"Who is they?"
Vanessa looked directly at me.
Then whispered, "The people who paid me to bring you here."
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Adrian stared at his fiancée.
"Someone paid you?"
Vanessa's face crumpled.
She nodded.
My knees nearly gave way.
Seven months.
Seven months of cleaning bedrooms.
Carrying trays.
Scrubbing floors.
Worrying about rent.
Begging for time off when Sophie needed medical care.
And the entire time, the woman who hired me had known something about my mother.
Something about my childhood.
Something about the family I'd spent my whole life believing was gone.
Adrian turned toward Frank.
"Have the gates secured."
Frank nodded.
"Yes, sir."
Then Adrian looked back at Vanessa.
"Who paid you?"
She closed her eyes.
For a moment, I thought she wouldn't answer.
Then she whispered a name.
"Matteo Rinaldi."
Adrian staggered backward.
His hand caught the chair.
I stared at him.
"Who is Matteo Rinaldi?"
He looked at me.
His expression was unlike anything I'd seen before.
Not anger.
Not confusion.
Something closer to grief.
Then he answered.
"The man who raised me after my mother disappeared."
He swallowed.
"The man I've called Uncle Matteo for twenty-six years."
And just as I began to understand what that meant, Adrian's phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His face turned white.
The caller's name was MATTEO RINALDI.
Adrian answered.
He said nothing.
For a moment, all I could hear was the faint crackle of the connection.
Then a man's voice spoke.
"Adrian, my boy."
The voice was warm.
Almost affectionate.
"I hear you've finally found your little sister."
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"Where are you?"
The man chuckled softly.
"That isn't important."
Then his voice changed.
"But the music box is."
Adrian went completely still.
Matteo continued.
"Tell Elena to bring it to me."
A pause.
"And remind her that little Sophie has already lost one grandmother."
My daughter looked up at the mention of her name.
I couldn't breathe.
May you like
Then the man whispered:
"It would be a shame if she lost her mother, too."
