Chapter 9 - THE WITNESS THEY WANTED TO SILENCE|
Maya's hands shook so badly that she dropped the glass of water I had given her.
It shattered against the kitchen floor.
She immediately knelt to pick up the pieces, apologizing through her tears.
I crouched beside her and gently took the broken glass from her fingers.
"Stop apologizing," I whispered.
"You haven't done anything wrong."
But Maya looked terrified.
"They know I heard them."
"Who knows?" Luca asked.
"Victor."
"He saw me standing outside the staff room."
"He smiled at me like it was nothing."
"Then he told Mrs. Moretti that frightened employees were easier to manage."
Luca's expression darkened.
He took out his phone and called Evelyn.
Within minutes, she was arranging for Detective Lena Ortiz, an investigator assigned to the emerging financial fraud allegations, to speak with Maya.
Unlike the detective who had questioned me, Ortiz didn't begin by treating the witness as a problem.
She arrived at the mansion that evening carrying a notebook and a small recorder.
She introduced herself calmly and asked Maya whether she felt safe speaking.
Maya shook her head.
"No."
Ortiz nodded.
"Then we'll begin by making sure you have somewhere secure to stay."
I watched her expression carefully.
For the first time, I felt as though someone outside our small circle genuinely understood the danger.
Maya explained everything she remembered.
She had seen Vanessa and Victor entering the staff corridor together.
Victor had been carrying a black jewelry pouch.
Vanessa had told him to make sure the necklace was discovered before the police arrived.
And when Maya accidentally stepped into view, Victor had made the terrible remark about the missing witness.
Ortiz wrote everything down.
"Did he mention the witness's name?"
Maya hesitated.
"I think he said Elena."
"Are you certain?"
"No."
"He spoke quietly, and I was frightened."
Ortiz didn't pressure her.
"That's all right."
"Tell me exactly what you remember, even if some details are uncertain."
Luca stood near the window with his arms folded.
I could tell he was struggling not to interrupt.
His entire life had been built around controlling dangerous situations.
But now the most important thing he could do was let someone else investigate properly.
When the interview ended, Ortiz turned toward him.
"Mr. Moretti, I need you to understand something."
"Go ahead."
"If you interfere with potential witnesses or attempt to handle this privately, you could damage the very case you're trying to build."
Luca looked at Maya.
"I understand."
"Then let us protect her."
For once, he didn't argue.
That night, Maya was taken to stay temporarily with a trusted relative while the police assessed the threats.
Evelyn helped her obtain independent legal advice.
I wanted to believe she was finally safe.
But before leaving, Maya slipped something into my hand.
It was a folded piece of paper.
"I didn't tell the detective about this because I was scared," she whispered.
"Please give it to her for me."
After Maya left, I unfolded the paper.
It contained a handwritten address in Chicago's River North neighborhood.
Beneath it were the words Bellini family records.
I immediately showed Luca.
"Do you know this place?"
He studied the address.
"It's a private office my father-in-law uses."
"Why would Maya have it?"
Then we noticed a telephone number written beneath the address.
Luca recognized it.
It belonged to an administrative assistant who had worked for Angelo Bellini for more than fifteen years.
We handed the note to Detective Ortiz.
She used it to pursue information through proper investigative channels while Evelyn continued searching public corporate records.
By the following afternoon, they had discovered something extraordinary.
The office wasn't merely a place where Angelo conducted business.
It was also the registered address for Lakefront Heritage Partners, the company named in the disputed property transfer.
And years earlier, another company with a nearly identical ownership structure had attempted to acquire Frank Moretti's restaurant.
The same names kept appearing.
Angelo Bellini.
Martin Vale.
Victor Sloane.
The pattern stretched across decades.
Later that evening, Luca and I were reviewing the information in the library when Rosa Moretti arrived.
She was Luca's mother, a seventy-three-year-old widow who had rarely visited the mansion since Vanessa moved in.
I had known Rosa for years.
She was gentle, stubborn, and capable of making anyone feel welcome with nothing more than a cup of coffee and a warm smile.
When Luca told her about the recording, she began to cry.
"Frank tried to tell me," she whispered.
"He kept saying something was wrong with the restaurant papers."
"Why didn't you tell me, Mama?" Luca asked.
"Because after they killed him, someone came to our house."
Luca went still.
"Who?"
"Victor Sloane."
Rosa lowered herself into a chair.
"He told me that if I wanted to keep my son alive, I should accept the police investigation and stop asking questions."
"I was frightened."
"I had already buried my husband."
"I couldn't bear the thought of burying you, too."
Luca knelt beside her.
"Mama, you should have told me."
She touched his cheek.
"I know."
"And I've regretted my silence every day."
Then Rosa looked at the photograph from my grandfather's shop.
Her eyes widened when she saw Anthony Russo.
"That poor man," she whispered.
"He came to our house the morning before Frank died."
"He was carrying something Frank had asked him to deliver."
"What was it?" I asked.
Rosa closed her eyes, struggling to remember.
"A small envelope."
"And a photograph."
She opened her eyes again.
"Frank told Anthony that if anything happened, he needed to protect the girl in the photograph."
I leaned forward.
"What girl?"
Rosa's answer made Luca rise slowly to his feet.
"Angelo Bellini's daughter."
May you like
Vanessa hadn't merely inherited her father's secrets.
She might have witnessed the crime that destroyed Luca's family.
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