Chapter 3 - The Woman in the Photograph
“Elena is nobody.”
Vanessa said it too quickly.
Luca stared at the paper in his hand.
“Then why is her name hidden inside my son's blanket?”
Vanessa's eyes darted toward the doorway.
“Because Catherine was unstable. Everyone knew that.”
The accusation struck harder than I expected.
I'd never met Catherine Moretti, but I'd heard enough stories from Teresa to understand that she had been loved.
She baked birthday cakes herself.
She remembered the names of every household employee.
She once canceled an elaborate vacation because Teresa had pneumonia and refused to leave her alone.
And she adored her little boy.
Now Vanessa stood in that woman's bedroom suite, calling her unstable.
Luca folded the paper carefully.
“Don't speak about my wife that way.”
“Former wife,” Vanessa snapped.
His expression hardened.
“She died before we divorced.”
Silence.
Marco slipped the fabric scrap into a clean envelope.
Luca turned to him.
“Find out who rented the storage unit.”
Marco nodded.
“And Vanessa?”
Luca looked toward the woman he'd planned to marry.
“You'll stay in the east guest suite tonight. My security team will accompany you while you collect what you need.”
Her lips parted.
“You're throwing me out?”
“I'm separating you from my family until we know the truth.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Your mother has been manipulating you since the day we met.”
I couldn't stay silent.
“Mrs. Moretti has been terrified for weeks.”
Vanessa turned on me.
“Nobody asked you.”
Luca stepped between us.
“I did.”
Vanessa stared at him.
Then, with remarkable calm, she removed her engagement ring.
A huge diamond worth more than my mother's entire house.
She dropped it on the dresser.
“Be careful, Luca. Sometimes the truth ruins the people who go looking for it.”
She walked out.
I watched her disappear down the hallway.
Then my knees nearly gave way.
Luca noticed.
“Hannah?”
“I'm all right.”
“You're shaking.”
“I'm worried about your mother.”
He studied me for a moment.
“You stood up for her when you thought I'd fire you.”
I lowered my eyes.
“She deserved someone on her side.”
Luca said nothing for several seconds.
Then he surprised me.
“Thank you.”
Two simple words.
Yet somehow, they made my eyes sting.
An hour later, I was helping Teresa into bed when she asked me to close the door.
Her room was warm and smelled faintly of lavender.
Outside, October rain tapped against the windows.
“Did you find it?” she whispered.
“Only a piece.”
Her face crumpled.
“Oh, Catherine.”
I sat beside her.
“Mrs. Moretti, who is Elena?”
She looked toward the door.
Then she reached beneath her pillow.
She pulled out a small silver key.
“I was afraid Vanessa would find this.”
“What does it open?”
“A drawer in my husband's old study.”
I frowned.
“I thought the study had been locked since he died.”
“It has.”
“Then why do you have the key?”
“Because Catherine gave it to me.”
My breath caught.
Teresa's husband, Antonio Moretti, had died six years earlier.
Catherine had died four years earlier.
Whatever that key opened had been waiting a long time.
“Why didn't you tell Luca?”
Teresa's eyes filled.
“Because I thought keeping quiet would protect him. Antonio always told me that powerful families survive by keeping secrets.”
She gripped my hand.
“But secrets destroyed this family, Hannah.”
Before I could answer, someone knocked.
Luca entered carrying a small tray.
On it sat a cup of tea and two slices of buttered toast.
“Mom, Mrs. Alvarez says you haven't eaten.”
Teresa looked at him.
Then at the tray.
A sad smile crossed her face.
“Your father used to bring me toast when we argued.”
Luca sat beside her.
“Then I guess I learned something useful from him.”
She began crying again.
He took her hand.
“Mom, whatever Catherine told you, I need to know.”
Teresa looked toward me.
“Give him the key.”
I placed it in Luca's palm.
His expression changed immediately.
“This is Dad's study key.”
Teresa nodded.
“Catherine found something there. Something your father had hidden.”
“What?”
“She never told me everything.”
“Why?”
“Because she thought someone was watching her.”
Luca stood.
“Come with me.”
He meant me.
I hesitated.
“Sir, your mother—”
“Mrs. Alvarez can stay with her. I need someone who knows where Catherine's things were kept.”
We crossed the quiet second-floor hallway.
Luca unlocked the study.
The room smelled of leather, cedarwood, and dust.
Books lined the walls.
A framed photograph of Antonio Moretti stood on the desk.
Luca switched on the lamp.
“Catherine used to come in here,” he said quietly. “I thought she was looking for old family photographs.”
I noticed something in his expression.
Regret.
He moved toward a mahogany filing cabinet.
The silver key fit the bottom drawer.
Inside were old business ledgers, a sealed envelope, and a faded photograph.
Luca picked up the picture.
I leaned closer.
Three women stood outside a hospital.
One was Catherine.
The second was younger, with dark curly hair.
The third wore a nurse's uniform.
Luca stared.
“That's Catherine.”
Then his finger moved toward the young woman beside her.
“Who is she?”
I shook my head.
But something about her face seemed familiar.
The eyes.
The sharp cheekbones.
The shape of her smile.
I had seen her somewhere.
Then Luca turned the photograph over.
Two names were written on the back.
CATHERINE MORETTI AND ELENA BELLINI.
Underneath was a date.
Four years and three months earlier.
Luca stared at the name.
“Bellini?”
My mouth went dry.
Vanessa Bellini.
Elena Bellini.
Before either of us could speak, Luca's phone rang.
Marco.
His expression changed as he listened.
Then he looked at me.
“Hannah, lock the door.”
“Why?”
May you like
He lowered the phone.
“Because someone just broke into the storage unit.”
