Chapter 4 - THE PRICE OF A DAUGHTER|
"He wants Clara Bennett handed over to him."
Luca remained completely still.
The rain drummed against the greenhouse roof.
Beside him, Clara stared at the telephone as though the voice coming through it belonged to another world.
"Absolutely not," Luca said.
Marco exhaled.
"That's what I told him."
"Put him somewhere the police can speak to him."
"Detective Mercer's officers are already here."
"Good."
Luca ended the call.
Clara stepped closer.
"Who wants me?"
Luca hesitated.
"Vanessa's father."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
She searched his expression.
"But you know something."
Luca's dark eyes softened.
"I know nobody is handing you over to anyone."
Clara looked down.
For six months, she had lived under the Moretti roof and tried to make herself invisible.
She had learned which hallways Vanessa preferred her to avoid.
She had memorized the hours when Eleanor needed assistance.
She had swallowed insults because she couldn't afford to lose her job.
Now the same mansion seemed to contain secrets about every part of her life.
"Maybe he knows where my mother is," she whispered.
Luca looked toward the old photograph.
"Then we'll find out."
"But if he won't talk unless he sees me—"
"No."
His answer was immediate.
Clara lifted her chin.
"You don't get to decide everything for me."
Luca stared at her.
She felt her courage falter, but she continued.
"I've spent my entire life being told what I could know and what I couldn't."
She touched her pendant.
"If this is about my mother, I deserve a voice."
Luca was silent for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
"You're right."
Clara hadn't expected that.
He looked directly at her.
"I won't let anyone pressure you into meeting him, but I won't pretend your choices belong to me either."
She swallowed.
"Thank you."
"Let's hear what the detective thinks first."
Back at the mansion, Richard Bellini stood in the library wearing a charcoal overcoat.
He was sixty-four, with silver hair, expensive shoes, and the relaxed confidence of a man who had spent decades getting what he wanted.
Two police officers stood nearby.
Detective Mercer had returned ahead of the others and was waiting beside the fireplace.
Vanessa was sitting on the sofa.
Her father barely acknowledged her.
Instead, his gaze moved immediately to Clara.
For one terrifying second, he looked as though he'd seen a ghost.
"Well," he whispered.
Clara moved closer to Luca.
Richard smiled.
"You have your mother's eyes."
The room became silent.
Luca's voice was dangerously calm.
"Start talking."
Richard removed his gloves.
"I came because my daughter called me."
Vanessa looked up sharply.
"Dad—"
He raised one hand.
"Not now."
Detective Mercer stepped forward.
"Mr. Bellini, my understanding is that you have information concerning Sofia Moretti."
Richard nodded.
"I do."
"Then I'd like you to make a formal statement."
Richard gave a small laugh.
"Detective, you don't understand the people involved."
Mercer didn't smile.
"Explain them to me."
Richard glanced toward Luca.
"I want to speak to the girl privately."
"No," Luca said.
Clara took a breath.
"I want to know why."
Richard studied her.
"Because your mother trusted the wrong people."
"Did she trust you?"
His smile faded.
"Once."
Clara felt a sharp pain behind her ribs.
"Then where is she?"
Richard looked away.
"That depends on what happened after 2003."
Luca stepped forward.
"Stop playing games."
Richard's expression hardened.
"Your father played games, Luca."
"My father is dead."
"And buried with more secrets than you can imagine."
Eleanor entered the library in her wheelchair, accompanied by her nurse.
The moment Richard saw her, something changed.
He took a step backward.
"Eleanor."
The old woman stared at him.
Her hands began trembling.
"Monster," she whispered.
Richard's face tightened.
Luca immediately turned toward his mother.
"Mom?"
Eleanor pointed directly at Richard.
"Baby."
Her voice cracked.
"Stole... baby."
Clara felt dizzy.
Richard shook his head.
"She doesn't know what she's saying."
"Don't," Luca warned.
The single word stopped him.
Detective Mercer approached Eleanor.
"Mrs. Moretti, are you saying Mr. Bellini took Sofia's child?"
Eleanor nodded fiercely.
Clara stared at Richard.
"Did you take me from my mother?"
He looked at her for several seconds.
Then he said something Clara would never forget.
"I arranged for you to survive."
Her stomach dropped.
"What does that mean?"
Richard swallowed.
"Your grandfather wanted the problem handled."
Luca's hands curled into fists.
"Choose your next words carefully."
Richard stared into the fireplace.
"Your sister was young."
"She was nineteen."
"She had become involved with a man your father considered dangerous."
Luca gave a bitter laugh.
"My father considered everyone dangerous if he couldn't control them."
Richard looked toward him.
"On that occasion, he was right."
"Who was the father?"
Richard remained silent.
Clara stepped forward.
"Who was my father?"
For a moment, Richard appeared genuinely conflicted.
Then he shook his head.
"I can't tell you."
Clara felt her eyes fill.
"Can't or won't?"
"Both."
Detective Mercer interrupted.
"Mr. Bellini, any suggestion that a child was taken unlawfully is a serious allegation."
Richard nodded.
"I understand."
"Then I suggest you cooperate."
He glanced toward the door.
"I'll speak with my attorney present."
Vanessa suddenly stood.
"Dad, please tell them I had nothing to do with the roses."
Richard turned.
For the first time, his expression was openly furious.
"What did you do?"
Vanessa began crying.
"I just wanted the wedding to happen."
"What did you put in those flowers?"
"I didn't put anything in them!"
Richard stepped closer.
"Vanessa."
She looked at him desperately.
"I ordered the arrangements from our company, but someone substituted the stems."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
Richard stared at her.
Then he whispered, "You foolish girl."
Luca watched the exchange.
"Something you want to share?"
Richard turned toward him.
"Those roses may not have been intended for Clara."
Clara went still.
"What?"
Richard glanced at Eleanor.
"Your mother has a severe reaction to a particular chemical used in some floral treatments."
Walter frowned.
"That's why we stopped using those products years ago."
Richard nodded.
"Someone who knows Eleanor's medical history might know that."
Luca slowly looked at his mother.
She had been removing the roses.
Not because she feared Clara touching them.
Because she recognized what had been done.
Detective Mercer spoke carefully.
"We won't know what the substance is until the laboratory finishes testing."
Richard looked toward the windows.
"I suggest you keep Eleanor away from anyone connected to the wedding arrangements."
Vanessa shook her head.
"I would never hurt her."
Eleanor looked directly at her.
"Lie."
Vanessa burst into tears.
Before anyone could speak, Clara's phone rang.
Marco had found it and returned it to her.
The screen displayed an unfamiliar number.
She answered.
"Hello?"
A man spoke.
"Is this Clara Bennett?"
"Yes."
"My name is Dr. Samuel Pierce, and I'm calling about your brother Benjamin."
Clara's heart began pounding.
"Is something wrong?"
"His condition has changed, and we'd like him admitted for additional monitoring today."
"Today?"
"Yes."
"But his surgery is Monday."
"We're still planning for surgery, but we don't want to wait to assess these new symptoms."
Clara pressed a hand against the desk.
"Is he going to be okay?"
"We're doing everything we can."
The call ended moments later.
Clara stared at the screen.
Ben was twenty.
He was the last person from her childhood who still shared every memory of Margaret Bennett's little yellow house.
He loved terrible jokes, old baseball cards, and pancakes with far too much syrup.
He called Clara every evening just to make sure she'd eaten.
And now he needed her.
"I have to go," she whispered.
Luca stepped closer.
"What happened?"
"Ben needs to go to the hospital."
"Then we'll get you there."
She shook her head.
"I don't have enough money for the deposit."
Luca looked at her.
"Forget the deposit for a moment."
"I can't."
"Clara."
"His doctors won't wait forever, and I can't lose him."
Her voice broke.
"I can't lose another person."
Luca gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Listen to me."
She looked up.
"We're getting your brother the care he needs."
Clara began shaking her head.
"I can't accept charity."
"Then don't call it charity."
He paused.
"Call it a family responsibility we're still learning how to honor."
She began crying.
Behind them, Richard Bellini reached into his coat.
He removed an old leather wallet.
From it, he took a photograph.
"Before you leave," he said quietly, "there's something you should see."
Luca turned.
Richard placed the photograph on the desk.
It showed Sofia standing outside a small country hospital.
Beside her was a tall man with dark hair.
His face was partly hidden.
And in Sofia's arms was a newborn wrapped in a pink blanket.
Clara leaned closer.
The photograph had been taken on October 15, 2001.
One day after her birth.
Richard pointed toward the man beside Sofia.
"That's your father."
Clara's breath caught.
"Who is he?"
Richard looked toward Luca.
Then he spoke a name that made Luca's face turn white.
"DANIEL MORETTI."
Clara stared at him.
Luca shook his head.
"No."
Richard's voice was barely audible.
"Not your father, Luca."
He looked at the photograph again.
"Your father's younger brother."
Clara slowly backed away.
Her mother had been Sofia Moretti.
And the man Richard Bellini claimed was her father was Sofia's own uncle.
Luca seized the photograph.
"You're lying."
Richard didn't answer.
Eleanor suddenly began screaming.
Not words.
Just a terrible, frightened sound.
Clara turned toward her.
May you like
And in that moment, she understood one thing.
Whatever secret Richard Bellini was protecting, it was far more terrible than anyone had imagined.
