Chapter 9 - Sophie's Voice
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The vehicles screeching to a halt outside did not belong to the Bellinis.
Marco, Luca’s head of compound security, led a dozen loyal Moretti enforcers into the mansion, clearing the lower floors within minutes.
The Bellini hit squad had been routed, leaving four captured mercenaries tied up in the courtyard.
We moved down to Luca’s private study on the main floor, the only room with bulletproof steel shutters on the windows.
Teresa was brought out of the panic room, wrapped in a thick wool cardigan, sitting safely on the leather sofa.
Sophie sat right beside her grandmother, holding the old woman’s trembling hand in both of her small ones.
“Grandma,” Sophie said softly, looking up into Teresa’s worn face.
“Why didn’t you come to my school play last week?”
Teresa’s lips quivered, a look of profound sorrow crossing her features.
“Vanessa told me you were embarrassed by my wheelchair, darling.”
Sophie’s mouth dropped open in complete horror.
“That’s a big, fat lie!”
The little girl jumped down from the sofa and ran across the room to her small pink backpack resting on the desk.
She unzipped the front pocket and pulled out a small, battered metal tin decorated with painted daisies.
She carried it back and dumped its contents onto the coffee table.
Dozens of small, folded slips of colored paper spilled out across the polished wood.
Luca, who was reloading a fresh magazine into his sidearm, froze completely.
“Sophie,” Luca said, stepping closer.
“What are those?”
“They’re Grandma’s notes,” Sophie said, her voice ringing with pure, innocent indignation.
“I found them in the recycling bin in the kitchen every Friday morning.”
“Vanessa kept throwing them away after Hannah helped Grandma write them.”
“So every time Vanessa went upstairs to put on her makeup, I fished them out and hid them in my tin.”
Teresa covered her mouth with both hands, letting out a sob that shattered every heart in the room.
Luca picked up one of the crumpled slips of yellow paper.
On it, written in uneven, shaky strokes, were the words: Sophie, you are my sunshine. Love, Grandma.
Luca’s fingers shook as he held the scrap of paper.
“You kept every single one?” Luca asked his daughter, his voice breaking.
“Of course I did!” Sophie insisted, wrapping her arms tightly around Teresa’s neck.
“Grandma’s letters are my favorite thing in the whole world!”
“I don’t care if the letters are crooked!”
“It just means she worked really, really hard to tell me she loves me!”
Teresa pulled the little girl into her arms, burying her face in Sophie’s curls, weeping tears of pure, unadulterated relief.
Luca looked at me across the table, his eyes shining with unshed tears.
“Eleven months,” he whispered to me.
“Eleven months my mother felt like a burden in her own home, while my daughter was digging her love out of the trash.”
I stepped beside him, gently laying my hand on his forearm.
“She knows now, Luca.”
“They both know.”
Luca placed his hand over mine, his grip firm and desperate.
“I spent five years trying to make peace with monsters because I thought it was the only way to keep Sophie safe.”
“Now I see that the monsters were sleeping under my own roof.”
Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the study swung open.
Marco stepped inside, his face pale beneath the bright ceiling lights.
“Boss,” Marco announced, stepping aside.
“He’s here.”
A tall man in a dark canvas jacket and heavy work boots walked into the room.
May you like
He had the same dark hair as Luca, the same sharp jawline, and the same fierce, protective eyes.
Dante Moretti had finally returned home.
