Chapter 7 - The Lullaby Sofia Left Behind|
The first time I heard Luca Moretti sing, I thought I was imagining it.
It happened after midnight.
I had agreed to stay in a guest suite on the estate, mainly because my apartment was still being examined after the break-in.
I had insisted on keeping my own telephone, my own transportation, and the right to leave whenever I wanted.
Luca had accepted every condition.
He'd even arranged for a car service I could call directly rather than asking his permission.
That surprised me.
Men who built their lives around control didn't usually surrender it gracefully.
But perhaps fathers who couldn't control a crying baby learned humility faster than most.
I was walking toward the kitchen for a glass of water when I heard his voice.
Low.
Rough.
Uncertain.
He was singing the lullaby about the North Star.
I stopped outside the nursery.
Through the partly open door, I saw Luca sitting in the rocking chair.
Leo rested against his chest.
The baby's eyes were open, but he wasn't crying.
Luca sang the same four gentle lines over and over.
He wasn't particularly good at it.
But he was trying.
And for reasons I couldn't explain, that nearly broke my heart.
When the song ended, Leo lifted his little hand toward his father's face.
Luca kissed his fingers.
"I'm trying, buddy."
His voice cracked.
"I know I'm not doing this right."
My throat tightened.
I knocked softly.
He looked up.
For a moment, he seemed embarrassed.
"How much did you hear?"
"Enough to know your son is very forgiving."
He gave a tired smile.
"You think?"
"Absolutely."
I stepped inside.
"That last note was a crime against music."
Luca laughed quietly.
Leo smiled.
And just like that, the room felt warmer.
I sat on the edge of the rug.
"My mother used to sing that song."
Luca looked at me.
"Sofia said she learned it from a woman who helped her when she was younger."
I swallowed.
"Elena."
"Possibly."
He studied Leo.
"Sofia spent part of her childhood in foster care."
I hadn't known that.
"She rarely spoke about it."
Luca continued softly.
"But she always said one woman taught her that a child could survive terrible things without becoming cruel."
I looked toward the golden stars above the crib.
"My mother used to say something similar."
Luca's eyes met mine.
"Then maybe they gave each other something worth keeping."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Leo yawned.
I reached toward him.
"Can I?"
Luca handed him over.
The baby immediately tucked his face beneath my chin.
I swayed gently.
Within minutes, his breathing deepened.
Luca stared at us.
"You make it look easy."
"It isn't always."
"It is for you."
I shook my head.
"He feels safe with me right now."
"Why?"
"Maybe I remind him of something comforting."
I touched my necklace.
"A song."
"A smell."
"A familiar voice."
Luca looked thoughtful.
"Or maybe he's simply a good judge of character."
I smiled.
"Don't start."
He stepped closer.
"Thank you, Avery."
The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard.
"For what?"
"For being kind to him."
I looked down at Leo.
"He's very easy to love."
Luca went still.
Then he looked away.
I realized too late what I'd said.
Love.
It was such a dangerous word in a house filled with grief.
I hurried to soften it.
"I mean, he's adorable."
Luca nodded.
"I know what you meant."
But his expression suggested the word had reached somewhere he wasn't prepared to examine.
The following morning, we visited the North Star Center.
I insisted Gianna remain with Leo at the estate.
Whatever was hidden inside Sofia's notebook, I wasn't bringing a child anywhere near it.
The center occupied a renovated brick building in Brooklyn.
A mural of golden stars covered the entrance.
Inside, volunteers sorted clothing, prepared meals, and helped parents fill out medical forms.
It was the kind of place my mother would have loved.
A young employee named Naomi Parker approached us.
When I mentioned Elena Bennett, her expression changed.
"I was hoping someone would come."
My heart pounded.
"Do you know where she is?"
Naomi shook her head.
"No."
Then she glanced toward the hallway.
"But Sofia Moretti left something here."
She led us into a small records room.
On the desk sat an old cardboard archive box.
Inside were invoices, donation receipts, and shipping manifests.
I picked up the first page.
WINTER RELIEF SUPPLIES — NORTH STAR CENTER.
The paperwork listed blankets, heaters, children's coats, and emergency medical equipment.
Everything looked ordinary.
Then I noticed the quantities.
"Three hundred hospital beds?"
Luca leaned over my shoulder.
"That's a lot."
"This center doesn't have inpatient beds."
Naomi nodded.
"Sofia noticed that too."
I turned another page.
The same shipment appeared again.
Same date.
Same payment amount.
Different company name.
My pulse quickened.
"They billed the charity twice."
"Sometimes three times," Naomi said.
I looked through more records.
One shipment was supposedly delivered to a warehouse that had closed years earlier.
Another carried a signature from a woman who had been dead for a decade.
Millions of dollars had passed through a system of invented purchases and nonexistent deliveries.
But one name appeared again and again.
MORETTI FREIGHT HOLDINGS.
I looked at Luca.
He went pale beneath his tan.
"That's one of my companies."
I stared at him.
"Did you know?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
His expression hardened.
"Avery, I didn't authorize this."
I wanted to believe him.
But the words on the paper were real.
And his name was on the company.
Before I could answer, the fire alarm screamed.
Red lights flashed above the door.
Naomi jumped.
"What's happening?"
Smoke began curling beneath the records-room entrance.
Luca moved immediately.
"Leave the papers."
I grabbed the notebook and the nearest folder.
"We need these."
"Avery!"
He pulled off his coat and wrapped it around me.
Then he took Naomi's hand.
We hurried toward the rear exit.
The hallway filled with smoke.
Someone had started a fire near the storage rooms.
Someone who knew exactly what we'd come to find.
We reached the emergency stairs as sprinklers burst overhead.
By the time we emerged into the cold air, I was coughing and shaking.
Luca wrapped his arms around me long enough to check that I could breathe.
"Are you hurt?"
I shook my head.
Naomi was already calling emergency services.
I looked back at the building.
Smoke poured from a second-floor window.
Then my phone rang.
Greg.
My manager.
I almost ignored it.
But something made me answer.
"Avery."
His voice was frantic.
"Listen carefully."
"Greg?"
"I lied about the cameras."
My blood turned cold.
"What?"
"The footage from Table Twelve wasn't erased."
He was breathing hard.
"I copied it before they came."
"Who came?"
He hesitated.
Then whispered, "The man with the star on his wrist."
Behind me, Luca turned.
I put the phone on speaker.
Greg's next words changed everything.
"Avery, the woman who left your note wasn't a stranger."
I gripped the phone.
"Who was she?"
"I didn't recognize her at first."
His voice broke.
"But I checked the footage."
He swallowed.
"She looked exactly like the woman in your mother's old photograph."
I stopped breathing.
"Greg, are you saying—"
"Your mother came into Belladonna that night."
May you like
The street seemed to disappear beneath my feet.
And suddenly, the folded note in my pocket felt heavier than anything I'd ever carried.
