Chapter 4 - The Birthday That Was Never Madison's|
By midnight, the mansion had finally become quiet.
The champagne glasses had been cleared away.
The musicians had packed their instruments.
And the sixty guests who had spent the evening celebrating Madison Bellini had been politely escorted from the property.
Only the decorations remained.
Gold balloons floated above the ballroom.
A ten-foot banner stretched across the grand staircase.
HAPPY TENTH BIRTHDAY, MADISON!
I stood beneath it, wondering how anyone could have done something so cruel.
Sophia had spent her entire birthday hidden in the kitchen.
Meanwhile, her stepmother had transformed the house into a celebration for somebody else.
Luca appeared beside me.
He had removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves.
For the first time since I had known him, he looked exhausted.
"Claire, where is Sophia?"
"She's asleep in the small sitting room."
"Alone?"
"No, Mr. Moretti."
I smiled faintly.
"She's sleeping beside Madison."
Luca looked surprised.
"Madison?"
"She refused to leave Sophia."
Something flickered across his face.
He walked toward the sitting room.
I followed a few steps behind.
The two girls were curled together beneath a soft blanket.
Sophia's pink ribbon had come loose.
Madison's glittering birthday crown lay on the floor.
One of Sophia's hands rested inside Madison's.
Luca stood silently in the doorway.
Then he whispered, "Neither of them should have been put through this."
I nodded.
Madison stirred.
When she noticed Luca, she immediately sat upright.
"Uncle Luca?"
"Hello, sweetheart."
She looked terrified.
"Am I in trouble?"
"Of course not."
"Because Aunt Vanessa said you'd be angry if I told anybody."
Luca slowly crouched beside her.
"Told anybody what?"
Madison's eyes filled with tears.
"The party wasn't really for my birthday."
I felt a chill.
Luca remained very still.
"What do you mean?"
Madison stared at her hands.
"My birthday is March eighteenth."
The words seemed to echo through the room.
Luca looked toward the enormous gold banner in the hallway.
Then back at Madison.
"Your birthday was eight months ago?"
She nodded.
"Aunt Vanessa said we'd celebrate again because I deserved a special party."
Sophia woke up.
"Madison?"
"I'm sorry," Madison whispered.
Sophia rubbed her eyes.
"Why are you crying?"
Madison turned toward her.
"Because I knew it was your birthday."
My heart tightened.
Sophia said nothing.
Madison began crying harder.
"Aunt Vanessa told me not to tell you."
"Why?"
"She said if I was good, Uncle Luca would let me live here."
Luca's face darkened.
Madison continued through tears.
"She said I could have your bedroom and your toys and everything."
Sophia looked down.
"I don't care about the toys."
Madison shook her head.
"I didn't want your bedroom."
Her voice broke.
"I just wanted somebody to come to my birthday party."
For a moment, I saw the truth beneath Vanessa's cruelty.
She had not only used Sophia.
She had used Madison too.
Two lonely little girls had been turned against each other so that a grown woman could carry out a plan neither child understood.
Luca pulled both girls into his arms.
"Listen carefully."
They looked at him.
"Neither of you has to compete for a place in this family."
Madison began sobbing.
Sophia put her arms around her cousin.
And Luca held them both.
I turned away because I could no longer hide my tears.
Later, after the girls had fallen asleep again, Luca asked me to show him Sophia's bedroom.
I led him upstairs.
The moment he entered, his expression changed.
The room no longer looked like a little girl's bedroom.
Several shelves were empty.
Her favorite stuffed animals had disappeared.
A row of cardboard boxes stood beside the wardrobe.
Each one carried a printed label.
SOPHIA MORETTI — PERSONAL BELONGINGS.
Luca picked up a box.
Inside were Sophia's winter coats, school notebooks, and photographs.
He lifted an old picture of Isabella holding Sophia as a baby.
His hands began trembling.
"Who packed these?"
"I don't know, sir."
"Did Sophia know?"
I hesitated.
"Vanessa told her she needed to start getting used to having fewer things."
He closed his eyes.
"How long has this been happening?"
I took a careful breath.
"Since shortly after your wedding."
Luca looked at me.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
I felt that question like a slap.
"I tried."
He frowned.
"When?"
"Three times."
I reminded him of the messages I had left with his executive assistant.
I told him about the afternoon I had waited outside his office for nearly two hours.
I explained how Vanessa had threatened to dismiss me whenever I questioned Sophia's treatment.
Luca lowered the photograph.
"Nobody gave me those messages."
"No, sir."
He stared at the boxes.
"Then I've been living in my own home without knowing what was happening inside it."
I didn't answer.
There was nothing kind I could say that would make the truth less painful.
Suddenly, Luca noticed a rectangular space on the top shelf.
The dust around it showed that something had recently been removed.
"Where's Isabella's memory box?"
I looked up.
"What memory box?"
He stared at the empty shelf.
"A wooden chest."
His voice softened.
"Isabella made it before she died."
He explained that his first wife had written birthday letters for Sophia to open as she grew older.
There was supposed to be one for every birthday until her eighteenth.
My eyes filled with tears.
"Sophia never received any letters."
Luca froze.
"What?"
"She told me she only had photographs of her mother."
His expression changed from confusion to disbelief.
"I left that box here."
He opened every drawer.
He checked beneath the bed.
He searched the wardrobe.
Nothing.
Finally, we found a small brass key tucked behind a picture frame.
Attached to it was a folded note in Vanessa's handwriting.
The past has no place in our new family.
Luca crumpled the note in his fist.
Then Marco appeared in the doorway.
"Boss, there's been a development."
Luca looked up.
"What now?"
Marco held out a tablet displaying the mansion's inventory records.
"The memory box was removed from Sophia's room six weeks ago."
"By whom?"
Marco hesitated.
"Your wife."
"And where is it?"
"We don't know."
Then he showed us another entry.
A storage request.
A delivery confirmation.
And a destination.
Bellini Family Holdings — Private Records Facility.
Luca stared at the address.
May you like
Vanessa had not simply hidden Isabella's letters.
She had sent them to a company controlled by her own family.
