Chapter 8 - The Night Rosa Disappeared|
Three days later, Rosa Moretti disappeared.
It happened on a Thursday afternoon.
I had taken my scheduled break after lunch and gone to pick up medication for my mother.
When I returned to the mansion, the front hallway was filled with security officers.
Marco stood beside the staircase.
His expression was grim.
My stomach dropped.
“What's happened?”
He turned.
“Hannah.”
“Where's Mrs. Moretti?”
He hesitated.
And that hesitation told me everything.
“Marco?”
“She left the property about an hour ago.”
My heart stopped.
“With whom?”
“A driver from a private medical transport company.”
I stared.
“Mrs. Moretti wouldn't leave without telling me.”
Marco's jaw tightened.
“We know.”
I looked toward the staircase.
“Where's Luca?”
“On his way home.”
I felt sick.
Rosa had been frightened of leaving the mansion for weeks.
She'd repeatedly told me she wanted to stay.
She wouldn't simply climb into a stranger's vehicle.
“What happened?” I whispered.
Marco showed me a printed document.
It appeared to authorize Rosa's transfer to a private rehabilitation residence outside Milwaukee.
At the bottom was her signature.
I stared at it.
Then shook my head.
“This isn't right.”
Marco frowned.
“Why?”
“Mrs. Moretti's handwriting has changed since her last fall. She struggles to hold a pen for long.”
I pointed toward the signature.
“This is too smooth.”
Marco studied it.
Then looked up sharply.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
I remembered helping Rosa address Christmas cards.
Her letters were uneven.
Her hand shook.
Sometimes she asked me to write the addresses while she signed her name.
The signature on the transfer form looked nothing like hers.
I looked at Marco.
“Someone forged it.”
His expression hardened.
“We've already contacted the transport company.”
“Where did they take her?”
“That's what we're trying to confirm.”
My knees weakened.
Before Marco could say anything else, the front doors opened.
Luca entered.
He looked at me.
Then at Marco.
“Tell me.”
Marco handed him the document.
Luca read it.
His face changed.
“Who authorized this?”
“The transport company says the request came from Vanessa Bellini.”
Luca went completely still.
“She's under investigation.”
“Yes.”
“She has no authority over my mother.”
“I know, Boss.”
Luca looked toward the paper.
Then tore it in half.
“Find her.”
Marco nodded.
But before he could leave, I stepped forward.
“Mr. Moretti.”
Luca turned.
I swallowed.
“Mrs. Moretti takes a small canvas bag when she goes to medical appointments.”
He frowned.
“What bag?”
“A blue one. She keeps her medication list, a cardigan, and her emergency contact card inside.”
I looked toward the hallway.
“If she believed she was going to an appointment, she would have taken it.”
Luca stared at me.
“Check her room,” he told Marco.
We rushed upstairs.
Rosa's bedroom was immaculate.
Her bed had been made.
Her slippers stood beside the dresser.
And the blue canvas bag was missing.
My heart pounded.
Then I noticed something on the bedside table.
A folded piece of paper.
It was tucked beneath Rosa's reading glasses.
I picked it up.
The handwriting was shaky.
But unmistakable.
Hannah, if Luca asks, tell him I didn't want to go. Vanessa said she would hurt someone if I refused.
My blood turned cold.
Luca took the note.
He read it.
Then stared at the wall.
For one terrible second, I saw the man Chicago whispered about.
The one powerful businessmen feared.
The one who rarely raised his voice because his silence was worse.
“Marco,” he said.
His security chief straightened.
“Boss?”
“Get the police involved. Now.”
Marco nodded.
Luca looked at me.
“She threatened my mother.”
My eyes filled.
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes.
Then opened them.
“And I'm going to bring her home.”
The next hour felt endless.
Investigators obtained the medical transport company's records.
The driver reported that Rosa had been picked up from the mansion by someone presenting official authorization.
He said she appeared nervous but had not resisted.
The destination on the paperwork was a private residence near Lake Geneva.
Not a rehabilitation center.
Not a medical facility.
A house.
Owned by a company connected to Daniel Mercer.
I felt sick.
Luca stood beside the window as Marco relayed the address to authorities.
Then his phone rang.
An unknown number.
He answered.
“Luca Moretti?”
Vanessa.
Her voice was calm.
Almost cheerful.
“Vanessa.”
“Hello, darling.”
His jaw tightened.
“Where is my mother?”
“Somewhere comfortable.”
“If you've hurt her—”
“Oh, Luca. Don't be dramatic.”
I saw his hand close into a fist.
Vanessa continued.
“Your mother is perfectly safe. But she needs to sign a few documents.”
Luca's expression hardened.
“She won't sign anything.”
“Then perhaps she'll be spending a very long time away from home.”
My stomach turned.
Luca spoke quietly.
“You're making a mistake.”
Vanessa laughed.
“No.”
Then her voice changed.
“Your mistake was choosing that housemaid over me.”
Luca looked directly at me.
I stopped breathing.
Vanessa continued.
“Tell Hannah Collins that if she'd left the chair alone, none of this would have happened.”
The line went dead.
For several seconds, Luca didn't move.
Then he looked toward Marco.
“Send the recording to the police.”
Marco nodded.
“And prepare the cars.”
I stepped forward.
“Mr. Moretti, I'm coming.”
He shook his head.
“Hannah, this could be dangerous.”
I swallowed.
“I know.”
He studied me.
Then looked at Rosa's note.
Finally, he nodded.
“You stay with the officers. No unnecessary risks.”
I agreed.
But as we hurried toward the waiting vehicles, I couldn't stop thinking about Rosa.
Seventy-eight years old.
Frightened.
May you like
Taken from the home she'd helped build.
And somewhere in Wisconsin, the woman who'd tried to steal her chair was now trying to steal her freedom.
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