Chapter 3 - THE ROOM NOBODY WAS ALLOWED TO ENTER|
I had cleaned almost every room in the Moretti mansion.
There were forty-two bedrooms, six formal sitting rooms, a private theater, and a dining hall large enough to host a wedding.
But there was one room I had never entered.
Antonio Moretti's old study.
For ten years, its heavy walnut doors had remained locked.
Luca had forbidden the household staff from touching anything inside.
He said his father had died there, and that was reason enough.
Now, standing outside those doors, I finally understood why his voice always changed whenever someone mentioned the room.
It wasn't anger.
It was grief.
And grief could become a prison if someone lived inside it long enough.
Nico unlocked the door.
A faint smell of leather and old paper drifted into the hallway.
Luca stepped inside first.
I followed Rosa, keeping one hand beneath her elbow.
Vanessa remained near the doorway.
"Darling, this is completely unnecessary."
Luca ignored her.
The room was beautiful in a way that felt almost unbearable.
Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling.
A large painting of Lake Michigan hung above the fireplace.
On the desk sat a silver-framed photograph of a younger Luca standing beside his father.
Antonio had one hand on his son's shoulder.
Both men were smiling.
I had never seen Luca smile that freely.
He walked toward the photograph and touched its frame.
"Ten years," he whispered.
"Ten years, and I still expect him to be sitting here."
Rosa began crying again.
I moved closer to her.
"Would you like to sit down, Mrs. Moretti?"
She shook her head.
"No, sweetheart."
"I've spent too many years sitting quietly."
Nico approached the desk with a tablet.
"The footage from last night was deleted."
Luca's jaw tightened.
"All of it?"
"Fourteen minutes."
"Between 11:19 and 11:33."
"Who deleted it?"
"Someone with administrator access."
Luca turned toward Vanessa.
She raised her hands.
"Don't look at me."
"I don't even know how your security system works."
Nico glanced down at his screen.
"Mrs. Moretti, your personal access card was used at 11:21."
Vanessa's face flushed.
"Then someone stole it."
Luca said nothing.
Nico continued.
"The same card accessed the estate's secure document room two days earlier."
"What documents?" Luca asked.
Nico hesitated.
"Copies of your father's estate trust."
Vanessa stepped into the room.
"Because I'm your wife, Luca."
"I thought I should understand our financial arrangements."
"Our financial arrangements?"
Luca spoke slowly.
"You've been married to me for eleven days."
Vanessa's expression turned wounded.
"And apparently that means nothing."
She reached for his arm.
Luca moved away.
"It means I trusted you enough to welcome you into this family."
He glanced at Rosa's bruises.
"And you used that trust to frighten my mother."
Vanessa's eyes flashed.
"You have no idea what your mother has been saying about me behind your back."
"Then tell me."
"She's never liked me."
"That doesn't explain her injuries."
For the first time, I heard real desperation beneath Vanessa's anger.
"You don't understand what's happening."
"Then help me understand."
Her gaze flickered toward the grandfather clock in the corner.
The movement lasted less than a second.
But Rosa noticed.
So did I.
"Why are you looking at that clock?" Rosa asked.
Vanessa stiffened.
"I'm not."
Rosa looked at Luca.
"Your father used to keep his most important correspondence in this room."
"I know, Mama."
"No, son."
"Some of it wasn't in the desk."
Luca frowned.
"What are you saying?"
Rosa walked slowly toward the clock.
Her slippers made almost no sound against the Persian rug.
She reached behind it and pressed her fingers against a narrow wooden panel.
Nothing happened.
She tried again.
The panel shifted slightly.
Nico stepped forward and gently pulled it open.
Inside was a shallow compartment, barely large enough for several envelopes.
It was empty.
Rosa made a small, devastated sound.
"No."
Luca moved closer.
"What should be there?"
"A blue folder."
"Your father told me never to let Victor find it."
Vanessa immediately turned toward the door.
"I need some air."
"Stay," Luca said.
She stopped.
I saw her hand disappear into the pocket of her evening gown.
A moment later, a faint vibration sounded.
Her phone.
She glanced at the screen before turning it facedown.
Luca held out his hand.
"Who is contacting you?"
"No one."
"Vanessa."
"You're becoming paranoid."
"Then show me."
She stared at him.
For a moment, I thought she would throw the phone across the room.
Instead, she placed it on the desk.
The screen illuminated.
A message appeared from an unsaved number.
I couldn't read the entire sentence.
But Luca could.
His expression darkened.
He turned the phone so we could see.
The message contained only seven words.
"Did she tell him about the church?"
Rosa clutched her chest.
"Oh, dear God."
Luca looked at his mother.
"What church?"
Rosa began shaking.
Vanessa lunged for the phone.
Nico moved between them.
And I heard myself speaking before I had decided to say anything.
"Mrs. Moretti, you told me last night that your husband left something with a woman named Ruth."
Rosa looked at me in astonishment.
"You remembered?"
I nodded.
She had whispered the name while Vanessa was threatening us.
At the time, I thought she was praying.
Now I realized she had been trying to protect a secret.
Luca crouched in front of his mother.
"Mama, who is Ruth?"
Rosa looked toward the picture of her late husband.
"Your father had one friend Victor could never buy."
"Who?"
"Sister Ruth at St. Agnes Church."
Luca leaned closer.
"And what does she have?"
Rosa's voice broke.
"The evidence your father collected against Victor."
She took a trembling breath.
"And a letter Antonio wrote for you the day before he was murdered."
Vanessa suddenly whispered, "Victor said that letter had been destroyed."
The room went silent.
Luca slowly turned toward her.
"I thought you said you barely knew him."
Vanessa covered her mouth.
But the damage was done.
May you like
And for the first time that night, I saw something in Luca Moretti's eyes that frightened his wife more than his anger ever could.
Certainty.
