Chapter 4 - The Secret Elena Took to Her Grave|
Luca sat in the old music room with his mother's notebook open across his knees.
For several minutes, he didn't speak.
I stood near the cabinet, uncertain whether I should leave.
The house was quiet now.
The engagement dinner had ended more than an hour earlier.
Vanessa and Richard were speaking separately with the police after agreeing to provide preliminary statements.
Marco remained nearby.
But Luca seemed to have forgotten everyone except the woman whose handwriting filled the pages.
“My mother kept records,” he whispered.
I nodded.
“She must have thought they were important.”
He turned another page.
Then laughed once.
A bitter, broken sound.
“She knew Richard was moving money.”
I looked toward the notebook.
“What money?”
Luca showed me a list of accounts.
Most were connected to Moretti Property Holdings.
But several belonged to a charitable foundation Elena had established shortly before her death.
The foundation was supposed to support music education for children whose families couldn't afford lessons.
I remembered seeing its name on old invitations.
THE ELENA MORETTI MUSIC FOUNDATION.
Luca touched the page.
“She wanted every child to have a chance to learn.”
His voice softened.
“She grew up poor. Her father worked in a factory. Her mother cleaned offices.”
I smiled sadly.
“That sounds like someone who understood what things cost.”
He looked at me.
For a moment, his expression softened.
Then he turned another page.
“And someone stole from the program before it even opened.”
My stomach tightened.
“Richard?”
“According to these notes, yes.”
Luca studied the records.
“The transfers began eighteen years ago.”
He looked toward the piano through the open doorway.
“Mom discovered them shortly before she got sick.”
I hesitated.
“Did she tell your father?”
“I don't know.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Dad died five years later. He never mentioned this.”
I looked toward the notebook.
“Maybe she wanted to tell you herself.”
Luca nodded slowly.
Then he reached the final pages.
A folded letter slipped out.
He opened it.
The paper had yellowed.
The handwriting was faint.
But he recognized every line.
My dear Luca,
If you're reading this, something has happened that I hoped would never happen.
His face tightened.
He continued silently.
Then stopped.
“What is it?” I asked.
His voice broke.
“She wrote about Isabella.”
I waited.
Luca read aloud.
Your sister must never be made responsible for the mistakes of the adults around her.
Richard Bellini believes the trust created for Isabella can be used to secure debts belonging to his companies.
He has already tried to convince your father to authorize transfers.
Luca's jaw tightened.
I felt cold.
The trust.
The financial records.
The missing key.
And now Isabella's unexplained disappearance.
Everything seemed connected.
Luca continued.
I have placed copies of the original documents where only someone who remembers our music can find them.
He stopped.
Then looked toward the piano.
“Our music.”
I frowned.
“The song you played at dinner?”
He nodded.
“Mom taught it to me when Isabella was born.”
He looked at the damaged keyboard.
“That's why I remembered it tonight.”
I swallowed.
“Do you know the whole melody?”
“Yes.”
“But you couldn't finish because the ivory was missing.”
His expression changed.
Then he looked at me.
“Emma, can the piano still be played without the ivory tops?”
I nodded.
“The keys themselves may still work. But we'd need to check the mechanism carefully.”
He stood.
“Can you help?”
I hesitated.
“My mother repaired pianos. I only helped her.”
“That's more experience than I have.”
I smiled faintly.
Then nodded.
We returned to the dining room.
The old grand piano stood beneath the chandeliers.
Its damaged keyboard looked almost painful.
Luca sat on the bench.
I carefully inspected the exposed wooden keys.
Several were scratched.
But their mechanisms still moved.
“Try playing slowly,” I said.
He nodded.
His fingers moved across the keyboard.
A soft melody filled the room.
Uneven.
Fragile.
But beautiful.
Then he stopped at the missing seventh key.
He looked at it.
“That's strange.”
“What?”
“This note isn't part of the melody.”
I frowned.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded.
“The seventh missing key is much farther down the keyboard.”
I examined it.
Then noticed something.
The wooden surface had a tiny engraved flower.
Seven petals.
One blue.
My heart began racing.
“Mr. Moretti.”
He looked up.
I pointed.
“Your mother marked this key.”
Luca slowly stood.
He leaned closer.
Then whispered, “She wanted us to find it.”
I examined the wooden surface.
Unlike the other damaged keys, this one had a narrow seam near the front.
Something had been fitted beneath the ivory.
And the ivory had been removed recently.
I looked toward Luca.
“Someone found the hiding place.”
His expression hardened.
“But did they find what was inside?”
I gently pressed the wooden edge.
A thin panel shifted.
Beneath it was a narrow cavity.
Empty.
Except for one tiny piece of blue paper.
Luca took it carefully.
There were three handwritten words.
ASK YOUR SISTER.
May you like
He stared.
Then whispered, “Isabella knows.”
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