Chapter 5 - The Father I Buried Fourteen Years Ago|
I didn't sleep that night.
I sat on the narrow bed in my room at the Moretti estate, staring at an old photograph of my father.
James Brooks.
A tall man with kind brown eyes and a crooked smile.
He used to call me his little sparrow.
He taught me to ride a bicycle.
Made pancakes shaped like stars.
And carried me on his shoulders when I couldn't see over the crowds at the Fourth of July parade.
I was fourteen when my mother told me he died.
A warehouse accident.
A terrible fire.
The company had sent flowers.
A man in a gray suit delivered an envelope containing money.
My mother cried for weeks.
We never saw the body.
I had never thought to question it.
Not until tonight.
My phone rang.
Mom.
I answered immediately.
"Hi, sweetheart," she said.
Her voice sounded tired.
"Mom."
Something in my tone made her pause.
"Natalie?"
I swallowed.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Did Dad really die in that warehouse fire?"
Silence.
A long, terrible silence.
Then my mother whispered:
"Who told you to ask that?"
My heart stopped.
"Mom?"
She began breathing faster.
"Natalie, where are you?"
"At work."
"Are you safe?"
I frowned.
"Yes."
"Is Luca Moretti there?"
My stomach tightened.
"How do you know his name?"
My mother began crying.
"Oh, sweetheart."
I felt cold spread through my body.
"Mom, please."
For several seconds, she couldn't speak.
Then she whispered:
"Your father wasn't supposed to disappear."
I closed my eyes.
"What?"
"The night of the fire, he found something."
My heart pounded.
"What?"
"Documents. Records. Evidence that somebody was using the shipping company to move stolen money."
I stared.
"And?"
"He tried to report it."
"To whom?"
My mother hesitated.
"Someone inside the Moretti family."
I swallowed.
"Who?"
A pause.
Then she whispered:
"Luca's father."
My stomach dropped.
Vittorio Moretti.
The former head of the Moretti organization.
A man whose name still frightened people years after his death.
I gripped the phone.
"Mom, what happened to Dad?"
She began crying harder.
"I don't know."
I froze.
"What?"
"He called me the night of the fire. He said he had to disappear for a little while."
I couldn't breathe.
"He told you?"
"Yes."
"And you told me he was dead?"
Her voice broke.
"I was trying to protect you."
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
"For fourteen years?"
"Natalie—"
"I cried at his funeral!"
"I know."
"I waited for him every Christmas!"
My mother sobbed.
"I know, sweetheart."
I pressed a hand over my mouth.
All those years.
All those birthdays.
All those nights when I wished my father could see the woman I'd become.
He might have been alive.
I whispered:
"Did he ever contact you again?"
My mother hesitated.
"Sometimes."
The words shattered me.
"Sometimes?"
"He sent money."
I closed my eyes.
The cards.
The gift cards.
The money for prescriptions.
It hadn't been charity.
It had been him.
"Mom, why didn't you tell me?"
"Because he made me promise."
I shook my head.
"I need to find him."
My mother suddenly sounded frightened.
"No."
"Mom—"
"Natalie, listen carefully. If your father is still alive, there are people who will do anything to find him."
I stared at the wall.
"Who?"
A pause.
Then she whispered:
"Richard Bellini."
Vanessa's father.
My blood ran cold.
The man who'd financed Luca's engagement celebration.
The man who'd smiled at me every time I served him dinner.
The man who had once told me I reminded him of someone.
I ended the call after promising my mother I'd be careful.
Then I went downstairs.
Luca was in his office.
It was almost three in the morning.
He sat behind his desk reviewing photographs.
When he saw me, he immediately stood.
"Natalie."
I looked at him.
"My father is alive."
His expression changed.
"Are you certain?"
"My mother admitted he survived the fire."
Luca slowly approached.
I could barely breathe.
"She says Richard Bellini was involved."
His face hardened.
"That confirms something my brother may have been investigating."
I looked up.
"What?"
Luca hesitated.
"Matteo believed someone inside our organization had been moving money through fake shipping contracts."
I stared.
"My father found the same thing."
"Possibly."
My knees weakened.
Luca reached toward me.
Then stopped.
"May I?"
I nodded.
He gently guided me toward the chair.
I sat.
For a moment, I couldn't stop crying.
All my life, I'd believed being strong meant carrying everything alone.
Now the weight felt unbearable.
Luca crouched beside the chair.
"Natalie, look at me."
I wiped my eyes.
He continued quietly.
"I don't know where your father is."
I nodded.
"But I will make sure the information we have gets to people who can help find him."
His voice was steady.
Not a promise of miracles.
Not a declaration that money could solve everything.
Just an offer to help.
I looked at him.
"Why?"
He frowned.
"Why what?"
"Why do you care?"
Luca was silent.
Then he said something I hadn't expected.
"Because you were willing to risk your job so an elderly woman wouldn't go hungry."
Tears filled my eyes again.
He continued.
"You didn't ask who she was. You didn't ask what she could give you."
His expression softened.
"You just saw someone who needed kindness."
I looked away.
For years, I had been invisible in that mansion.
A housemaid.
A uniform.
A name on a payroll list.
Now Luca Moretti was looking at me as though I mattered.
Then his phone rang.
Antonio.
Luca answered.
"Speak."
His expression changed.
"When?"
A pause.
"Are you certain?"
He stood slowly.
I gripped the chair.
"What happened?"
Luca ended the call.
Then looked directly at me.
"Antonio found the source of the payments to your mother."
My heart raced.
"Who?"
Luca swallowed.
"The account belongs to a man named James Brooks."
I stopped breathing.
"Dad?"
He nodded.
"But there's something else."
I stared.
"What?"
Luca's voice became quiet.
"The account was accessed yesterday from a hotel in Chicago."
My heart nearly stopped.
My father wasn't hiding in another country.
He was here.
May you like
In the same city.
And someone had been close enough to find him.
