Chapter 4 - The Hospital Record That Never Made Sense|
By midnight, the mansion was no longer a place for celebration.
The engagement decorations remained untouched.
Champagne glasses stood abandoned.
White roses filled the dining room.
And upstairs, investigators were examining a nursery nobody knew existed.
Vanessa sat in the library with her attorney on the phone.
She had stopped shouting.
That frightened me.
I'd seen her angry many times.
I'd seen her humiliate employees, dismiss Teresa's concerns, and laugh when someone became uncomfortable.
But I'd never seen her so quiet.
Luca stood beside the fireplace.
He held Sofia's photograph in one hand.
His expression was exhausted.
“Why?” he asked.
Vanessa looked up.
“What?”
“Why did you keep that photograph?”
She hesitated.
“It was part of a family file.”
“What family file?”
“Luca, my lawyer has advised me not to answer questions about this.”
He nodded.
“Then don't.”
He turned toward Marco.
“Give the hospital records and security footage to the investigators.”
Vanessa's eyes narrowed.
“You're really going to involve the police?”
Luca looked at her.
“My sister believes her daughter was taken from her.”
She said nothing.
“And you're sitting in a house where a nursery was prepared without my knowledge.”
Vanessa looked away.
Luca continued.
“If there's an innocent explanation, the records will help establish it.”
He moved toward the door.
Then stopped.
“And until this is resolved, the wedding is postponed.”
Vanessa looked up sharply.
“Postponed?”
“Yes.”
Her face crumpled.
“Luca, please.”
He didn't turn.
“I can't marry someone I no longer trust.”
Then he walked out.
I found Teresa sitting beside the upstairs window.
She held her phone in both hands.
When I entered, she looked up.
“Hannah?”
“Yes, Mrs. Moretti?”
“Has Luca found her?”
I shook my head.
“Not yet.”
Her eyes filled.
“She would be almost two months old now.”
I sat beside her.
“Yes.”
Teresa touched the phone screen.
A photograph of Sofia appeared.
She looked happy.
Younger.
Standing beside a lake.
“That's my little girl,” Teresa whispered.
I smiled sadly.
“She looks like you.”
Teresa laughed through her tears.
“Her father used to say that.”
Then her expression changed.
“Hannah, did Sofia tell you anything when you spoke to her three weeks ago?”
I hesitated.
“She asked whether you were alone.”
Teresa nodded slowly.
“And?”
“She said not to tell Vanessa where she was.”
The older woman's face crumpled.
“I should have known.”
I took her hand.
“You were being told things that weren't true.”
Teresa shook her head.
“I believed my daughter didn't want me.”
Her voice broke.
“Every morning I checked my phone. Every night I wondered what I'd done wrong.”
I squeezed her fingers.
“You didn't do anything wrong.”
She looked at me.
“Then why did Vanessa say Sofia hated me?”
I swallowed.
“I don't know.”
But I had begun to suspect the answer.
If Sofia and Teresa spoke directly, the lies separating them would fall apart.
And if those lies were connected to Isabella's disappearance, someone had a powerful reason to keep them apart.
The next morning, Detective Elena Ramirez arrived at the mansion.
She was a calm, sharp-eyed woman who had worked family-related investigations for more than fifteen years.
She met privately with Luca and Teresa.
Then she asked to speak with me.
I sat across from her in the library.
“Hannah Collins?”
“Yes.”
“I understand you spoke with Sofia Moretti several weeks ago.”
I nodded.
She opened her notebook.
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
I described the call.
The woman's frightened voice.
The abrupt ending.
Vanessa's warning afterward.
Then I told her about the baby supplies and the locked nursery.
Ramirez listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she asked one question.
“Did you ever see the baby?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Did you hear a baby crying?”
I hesitated.
“Once.”
Her pen stopped.
“When?”
“Last Thursday. Near the east staircase.”
I looked down.
“I thought it came from a television.”
Ramirez nodded.
“Thank you.”
She closed the notebook.
Then looked toward the doorway.
“Mr. Moretti, may I speak with you?”
Luca entered.
His expression was tense.
Ramirez showed him a hospital document.
“We obtained the initial admission record from Sofia's delivery.”
Luca leaned forward.
“And?”
“The record states that a living infant was delivered.”
He went completely still.
Ramirez continued.
“There's a later transfer note, followed by a death notification. But the sequence is inconsistent.”
Luca's jaw tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“It means we need the original clinical records and testimony from the staff who were present.”
He stared at the paper.
Then asked, “Was there a death certificate?”
Ramirez hesitated.
“Not one we've been able to verify.”
The room fell silent.
Then she added something worse.
“The physician who signed the transfer paperwork has a connection to your brother Michael.”
Luca looked up.
“What connection?”
May you like
Ramirez answered quietly.
“They own a medical consulting company together.”
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