Chapter 4 - The Housemaid Who Knew Too Much|
Luca turned slowly toward me.
"Natalie."
My mouth went dry.
"Yes, sir?"
"Why would my brother write your name?"
I stared at the photograph.
"I don't know."
"Have you ever met him?"
I shook my head.
"Not that I know of."
Vanessa gave a sharp laugh.
"Oh, please."
Luca turned.
"Enough."
She folded her arms.
"You expect me to believe your little housemaid has nothing to do with this?"
I felt my face burn.
For months, Vanessa had spoken about me as though I were furniture.
Someone who existed to clean up after her.
Now she was looking at me with open hatred.
"I didn't write that message," I said.
Vanessa sneered.
"Of course you didn't."
Luca's voice became cold.
"Vanessa, you've lied to me about your mother, your child, and my brother. You're in no position to accuse anyone else."
She went silent.
I looked at the photograph again.
Then something caught my attention.
The handwriting.
I had seen it before.
My stomach tightened.
"Mr. Moretti?"
Luca turned.
"What?"
"I think I recognize the writing."
His expression changed.
"From where?"
I hesitated.
"My mother's letters."
Silence.
Luca frowned.
"Your mother?"
I nodded.
"My mother receives handwritten cards every month. They've been arriving for almost two years."
"From whom?"
"She doesn't know."
Luca stared.
I continued.
"Someone sends her grocery gift cards and sometimes money for her prescriptions. She always assumed it was a charity."
My voice trembled.
"But the handwriting looks like this."
Luca looked down at the photograph.
Then back at me.
"Why would Matteo help your mother?"
"I don't know."
The truth frightened me.
My mother, Evelyn Brooks, lived alone in a small apartment on Chicago's South Side.
Her health had declined over the previous year.
I sent most of my wages home.
Sometimes I skipped meals so she could afford her medication.
I'd never told Luca.
I didn't want pity.
I wanted to earn my paycheck.
Now I was discovering that a missing Moretti brother might have been quietly helping us.
Luca looked toward his security chief, who had just entered the room.
"Antonio."
"Yes, boss?"
"Find out everything you can about the person sending money to Evelyn Brooks."
Antonio nodded.
"Understood."
I immediately stepped forward.
"Mr. Moretti, please don't frighten my mother."
Luca turned.
His expression softened.
"I won't."
I studied him.
For the first time since I'd begun working for him, I saw something beyond the powerful businessman.
A man who had just learned his brother might be alive.
A man whose engagement had collapsed in front of twenty-eight guests.
A man who was suddenly discovering that the people closest to him had been lying.
He looked exhausted.
"Mrs. Ellis," he said quietly, "would you be comfortable staying here tonight while we arrange safe transportation?"
Margaret hesitated.
"I don't want to impose."
"You aren't."
Vanessa immediately protested.
"Luca, this is ridiculous!"
He turned toward her.
"You're leaving tonight."
Her face drained of color.
"What?"
"Our engagement is over."
She stared.
"You can't mean that."
"I do."
"Luca, please!"
He looked at the ring beside the paper crown.
"For months, you've told me honesty matters more than anything."
Vanessa began crying.
He continued.
"And tonight, I've learned you hid your mother, your son, and your connection to my missing brother."
She reached for his arm.
He stepped back.
"Leave."
Vanessa looked toward me.
Her eyes filled with hatred.
"This is your fault."
I froze.
Luca immediately moved between us.
"No."
His voice was dangerously quiet.
"Natalie gave a hungry woman bread. You made every decision that brought us here."
Vanessa stared.
Then she grabbed her handbag.
"You'll regret this."
She stormed out.
Daniel followed a few minutes later, promising to cooperate with any investigation.
Margaret remained beside the fireplace.
I brought her tea.
Luca sat across from her.
For a while, nobody spoke.
Then Margaret looked at me.
"Natalie, sweetheart, could you come here?"
I approached.
She took my hand.
Her fingers felt cold.
"There's something you should know."
I frowned.
"What?"
"Matteo told me about your mother."
My chest tightened.
"Why?"
Margaret looked toward Luca.
Then back at me.
"Because your father helped him once."
I froze.
"My father?"
She nodded.
I shook my head.
"That's impossible."
My father, James Brooks, had died when I was fourteen.
A warehouse accident.
At least, that was what I'd been told.
Margaret's eyes filled.
"Matteo said your father saved his life."
I stared.
"When?"
She hesitated.
"Seven years ago."
The room became completely silent.
My father had been dead for fourteen years.
How could he have saved Matteo seven years ago?
Luca slowly stood.
"Natalie."
I looked at him.
His face was pale.
"What?"
He swallowed.
"There's something I need to ask you."
My heart pounded.
"Yes?"
"Did your father ever work at the old Moretti shipping warehouse?"
I stared.
"Yes."
Luca closed his eyes.
May you like
Then whispered:
"Natalie, I think your father may have been alive long after your family buried him."
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