Chapter 12 - THE VOICE BEHIND THE LOCKED DOOR|
"HIS OWN LIFE OR HIS DAUGHTER'S."
Clara stood in the mansion kitchen, staring at Vanessa Bellini.
Her fingers had gone numb.
For twenty-five years, she had believed her father abandoned her before she was born.
Then she'd learned he might have been murdered.
Now someone was claiming he had disappeared to save her life.
She felt sick.
"Where is the recording?" Luca demanded.
Vanessa swallowed.
"I don't know."
"You just said Whitmore talked about it."
"He did."
"Then what else did he say?"
Vanessa looked toward the hallway.
"He said your father kept the original recording somewhere nobody would ever think to search."
Luca frowned.
"Where?"
Vanessa shook her head.
"He never told me."
Clara stepped forward.
"Did he say whether Thomas was alive?"
Vanessa's eyes filled.
"No."
Clara looked away.
She had begun to hate those two words.
No one knew.
Nobody could say.
Every person who entered her life seemed to carry another piece of the truth and another reason to hide it.
Ben quietly moved beside her.
"Clara, sit down."
"I'm okay."
He raised an eyebrow.
"You're shaking."
She looked at her hands.
He was right.
Luca approached.
"We don't have to solve everything tonight."
Clara gave a hollow laugh.
"Somebody threatened my brother."
Her voice cracked.
"Somebody took my mother away from me."
She looked at him.
"And now we're supposed to pretend this can wait?"
Luca didn't answer immediately.
Then he nodded.
"No."
He looked toward Marco.
"Make sure the detective receives everything Vanessa brought."
Marco nodded.
Vanessa quietly left with the security officer assigned to accompany her to the police.
Clara watched her go.
She couldn't decide whether the apology had been sincere.
She only knew that Vanessa's fear seemed real.
And frightened people sometimes told the truth for reasons that had nothing to do with goodness.
Later that evening, Luca returned to his father's study.
He had avoided the room for years.
The dark wooden shelves still held the same books.
A bronze clock ticked above the fireplace.
The leather armchair stood beneath the window.
Everything smelled faintly of old paper and cedar.
Luca remembered sitting in that chair as a child while his father conducted business on the telephone.
He remembered being told that a Moretti never showed weakness.
That loyalty mattered more than kindness.
That fear was more reliable than love.
He had spent his adult life trying to become a different man.
Yet he had continued trusting the same people his father trusted.
Whitmore.
Bellini.
Men whose influence had shaped his childhood.
He opened an old desk drawer.
Inside lay a stack of letters tied with string.
Most were ordinary correspondence.
But one envelope bore Sofia's handwriting.
Luca stopped.
It was addressed to him.
The postmark was dated November 2003.
Several months after her supposed death.
His heart began pounding.
He carefully opened it.
The letter began:
Dear Luca, if you receive this, please don't believe everything Father tells you.
Luca sank into the chair.
Sofia wrote that she was afraid for Thomas and the baby.
She said Daniel had helped her find temporary shelter.
She begged Luca to trust Eleanor.
And she ended with a single request.
If anything happens to me, don't let Father turn you into him.
Luca covered his mouth.
His sister had tried to reach him.
The letter had been intercepted and hidden.
For twenty-three years, it had remained in a drawer only a few feet from where he'd once sat mourning her.
He looked at the portrait of his father.
"How could you?"
His voice broke.
"She was your daughter."
For the first time, Luca allowed himself to confront a possibility he'd spent years avoiding.
His father hadn't merely made bad decisions.
He might have committed unforgivable acts against his own family.
A soft knock interrupted him.
Eleanor stood in the doorway in her wheelchair.
Sofia was behind her.
Luca immediately stood.
"Mom?"
Eleanor looked toward the letter.
Her eyes filled.
"Found?"
He nodded.
"Yes."
She began crying.
Sofia approached.
"What is it?"
Luca handed her the letter.
She read it slowly.
Then pressed it against her heart.
"I remember writing this."
Luca looked at her.
"Why didn't you call me?"
"I did."
Her eyes filled.
"Your father told me you didn't want to speak to me anymore."
Luca shook his head.
"That was a lie."
"I know that now."
He pulled her into his arms.
"I would have come for you."
Sofia sobbed.
"I know."
Eleanor watched them.
Then she pointed toward the fireplace.
"Book."
Luca turned.
"What book?"
She struggled to speak.
"Black... book."
Sofia frowned.
"Mom?"
Eleanor pointed toward the bookshelf beside the fireplace.
Luca crossed the room.
Dozens of leather-bound books stood in neat rows.
He scanned the titles.
Then he saw it.
A black volume without a title.
He removed it.
The book was heavier than it should have been.
Its pages had been hollowed out to create a compartment.
Inside lay a small tape cassette.
And an envelope.
Eleanor began crying.
"Thomas."
Luca stared.
"Mom, did you hide this?"
She nodded.
"Charles... wanted."
Luca understood.
Whitmore had been looking for it.
Eleanor had kept it hidden.
He turned toward Sofia.
"We need Mercer."
Within an hour, the cassette was in police custody.
Investigators examined its condition and arranged playback.
Clara, Sofia, Luca, and Eleanor were allowed to hear the relevant recording once it was prepared.
A burst of static filled the room.
Then a man's voice spoke.
"Mr. Moretti, I won't destroy the documents."
Clara gripped Sofia's hand.
Thomas.
Her father.
Another voice replied.
It was older.
Cold.
Commanding.
Luca recognized it immediately.
His father.
"You have no idea what you're doing, Reed."
Thomas answered.
"I know exactly what I'm doing."
The older man laughed.
"You're going to bring down companies that employ thousands of people."
"Then let the investigators separate the honest businesses from the crimes."
Silence.
Then the elder Moretti spoke.
"You love my daughter?"
"Yes."
"And the child?"
"More than my own life."
A chair scraped.
The recording crackled.
"Then you're going to disappear."
Thomas said nothing.
"You'll leave New York."
"No."
"You'll surrender every document you stole."
"They aren't yours to hide."
The older man's voice became frighteningly calm.
"If you refuse, Sofia will be told you abandoned her."
Thomas breathed heavily.
"And if I still refuse?"
There was a long pause.
Then came the words that made Clara begin shaking.
"Then your daughter won't live long enough to learn your name."
Sofia covered her mouth.
Clara felt Ben's hand close around hers.
The recording continued.
Thomas spoke again.
"Leave my child out of this."
"Then do as you're told."
"I want proof she'll be safe."
The older man laughed.
"You have my word."
Thomas's voice became sharp.
"Your word means nothing."
Then another man spoke.
Charles Whitmore.
"Mr. Reed, I suggest you accept the arrangement."
Clara looked toward Luca.
His face was white.
Whitmore continued.
"We've prepared the documents."
Thomas asked one final question.
"Will you let me see her someday?"
Nobody answered.
Then the recording ended.
For a long time, the room remained silent.
Finally, Clara whispered, "He didn't leave because he didn't love me."
Sofia shook her head through tears.
"No, sweetheart."
"He left because they threatened me."
"Yes."
Clara pressed her hands against her face.
The years of wondering whether she had been unwanted began to fall apart.
Her father had wanted her.
Her mother had wanted her.
Margaret had loved her.
Eleanor had searched for her.
She had spent her life believing that her beginnings were a story of abandonment.
But they were a story of people fighting, sometimes imperfectly, to keep her alive.
Detective Mercer approached.
"This recording is significant, but we'll need to corroborate it."
Luca nodded.
"Whatever you need."
Mercer looked toward Thomas's documents.
"We're following the financial trail and reviewing the names connected to the old transactions."
Clara wiped her eyes.
"Can you find my father?"
Mercer hesitated.
"We're trying."
Then her phone rang.
She stepped outside.
When she returned, her expression had changed.
"Luca, we located Charles Whitmore."
He stood.
"Where?"
"At a private airfield."
"Was he trying to leave?"
"Yes."
"Do you have him?"
"He's in custody."
Luca exhaled.
But Mercer wasn't finished.
"He wasn't alone."
Clara looked up.
"Who was with him?"
Mercer held her gaze.
"A man carrying identification under the name Michael Carter."
Sofia slowly stood.
The detective continued.
"We're still verifying his identity."
Clara's heart began pounding.
"Who do you think he is?"
May you like
Mercer took a breath.
"The man told the officers his real name was Thomas Reed."
