Chapter 8 - The Mother Who Had Been Keeping Secrets|
I didn't want to believe it.
My mother.
Evelyn Brooks.
The woman who had worked two jobs after my father died.
The woman who had raised two deaf and hearing children with the same fierce love.
The woman who called every Friday to make sure I was eating enough.
How could she be connected to Noah's attempted removal?
I sat in Luca's library, staring at my phone.
He stood near the window.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then he said gently:
"Ella, your mother may have done nothing wrong."
I looked up.
"Then why does everything keep leading back to her?"
"We don't know that it does."
I swallowed.
He continued.
"We know she encouraged you to apply here. We know Michael contacted her. We know your father worked with my family."
I nodded.
"But none of that proves she arranged anything involving Noah."
I looked away.
He was right.
But fear didn't always listen to reason.
I called my mother.
She answered immediately.
"Ella?"
"Mom, I need the truth."
Silence.
Then she whispered:
"About what?"
"Why did you want me to work for Luca Moretti?"
Her breathing changed.
I closed my eyes.
"Mom."
She began crying.
"Oh, sweetheart."
My chest tightened.
"Tell me."
For several seconds, she couldn't speak.
Then she whispered:
"Because your father asked me to."
I froze.
"What?"
"Before he died, Thomas told me that if anything happened to him, I should make sure you and Ethan knew how to communicate with people who couldn't hear."
I frowned.
"That doesn't explain the job."
"No."
She swallowed.
"He also told me that one day, someone from the Moretti family might need help."
My heart raced.
"Who?"
She hesitated.
"Vittorio Moretti's grandson."
Noah.
I stopped breathing.
"Mom, Noah wasn't born when Dad died."
"I know."
"Then how could Dad know about him?"
My mother began crying harder.
"He didn't know Noah personally."
I stared.
"Then what did he know?"
"He knew there was a child in the family who might inherit something important."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
She whispered:
"A trust."
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Money.
Property.
Another secret connected to the Moretti empire.
But this time, a child's future was involved.
"Mom, what trust?"
She hesitated.
"One established by Luca's grandmother."
I frowned.
"Why would that matter?"
"Because its assets were meant to support future generations of the family, including children who needed additional educational or medical services."
I stared.
"And?"
"Someone was trying to divert those funds."
My heart began pounding.
"The Harrington Institute."
My mother went silent.
I knew then that I'd guessed correctly.
"Mom?"
She whispered:
"Yes."
I looked toward Luca.
He was watching me.
I continued.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Her voice broke.
"Because I thought the danger had ended when your father died."
I swallowed.
"And when Michael started sending money?"
"I realized it hadn't."
The room seemed to spin.
I pressed a hand against my forehead.
My mother continued.
"Ella, I never wanted Noah hurt."
Tears filled my eyes.
"I know."
"I thought working there would give you a chance to help him if the people around him weren't listening."
I closed my eyes.
"Mom, you should have told me."
"I know."
Silence.
Then she whispered:
"There's something else."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"Your father left another letter."
I froze.
"Where?"
"With Ethan."
My heart stopped.
"Ethan?"
"Your brother has had it for two years."
I stared.
My younger brother.
The person I'd helped raise.
The person who'd moved to California.
The person who understood better than anyone why signing mattered.
"Why didn't he tell me?"
My mother hesitated.
"Because Thomas asked him to wait until Noah was safe."
I looked at Luca.
Then whispered:
"Mom, what's in the letter?"
She began crying again.
"The truth about why Michael wanted Noah sent away."
I couldn't breathe.
"Tell me."
A pause.
Then she whispered:
"Because Noah is the only living person who saw what happened the night his mother disappeared."
The room went completely silent.
Noah's mother.
Isabella Moretti.
Luca's first wife.
The woman who died four years earlier.
The woman whose photograph still hung in Noah's bedroom.
My heart thundered.
"Mom, Isabella died in a car accident."
My mother whispered:
"That's what Luca was told."
I looked at him.
His face was pale.
He had heard enough of the conversation to understand.
I slowly lowered the phone.
"Luca?"
He stared at me.
"What?"
I swallowed.
"My mother says Isabella's death may not have been an accident."
For a moment, he didn't move.
Then he whispered:
"Noah was in the car with her."
My blood ran cold.
Noah had been four years old.
May you like
And he'd never spoken about the accident.
Not once.
