Chapter 3 - The Woman My Mother Never Told Me About|
I stared at Elena Moretti's letter until the handwriting blurred.
My mother had died six years earlier.
For twenty-three years, she had raised me in a small apartment on Chicago's West Side, working double shifts and saving every dollar she could.
She never mentioned Anthony Bellini.
She never told me she knew Luca's mother.
And she certainly never told me she possessed evidence connected to a woman's mysterious death.
“That's impossible,” I whispered.
Luca handed me the letter.
“Are you certain your mother's name was Ruth Bennett?”
I almost laughed.
“She raised me, Mr. Moretti.”
His expression softened.
“Claire, I wasn't questioning you.”
He glanced toward his father.
“Dad, why would Mom mention Ruth?”
Frank lowered himself onto a wooden kitchen chair.
For a moment, the only sound came from the rain beginning to strike the restaurant windows.
“Ruth worked here,” he finally said.
“She started as a waitress, but Elena quickly realized she had a gift for numbers.”
My heart began beating faster.
“My mother was an accountant.”
Frank nodded.
“She helped Elena organize the restaurant's books.”
“Eventually, she discovered that several neighboring businesses were paying money to companies that didn't really exist.”
Luca leaned against the counter.
“Bellini companies?”
“Yes.”
Frank rubbed his trembling hands together.
“Your mother and Ruth started keeping copies of invoices, payment records, and threatening letters.”
“Then Elena died.”
I could barely breathe.
“What happened to my mother?”
Frank looked at me with such sadness that I already knew I wouldn't like his answer.
“She came to the funeral, sweetheart.”
“She was holding you in her arms.”
I froze.
My mother had always told me that she rarely visited the old neighborhood after I was born.
Now I understood that she had lied.
“Anthony Bellini was there,” Frank continued.
“He approached Ruth after the service and whispered something I couldn't hear.”
“She left immediately.”
“After that, she disappeared from our lives.”
Luca looked toward me.
“How did you come to work for our family?”
I swallowed.
“Your father hired me after Mom died.”
Frank slowly lowered his eyes.
Suddenly, five years of memories rearranged themselves inside my head.
Frank had personally interviewed me when I applied for the housemaid position.
He had looked at my surname for a long time.
He had asked whether my mother was Ruth Bennett.
When I said yes, his eyes had filled with tears.
At the time, I assumed he had simply known her through the neighborhood.
Now I wondered whether he had been protecting me.
“Mr. Frank,” I whispered.
“Did you hire me because of my mother?”
He nodded.
“Partly.”
“Ruth helped my wife when nobody else would.”
“When I discovered her daughter was looking for work, I couldn't turn you away.”
I pressed my hands against the counter.
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“Because Ruth asked me never to involve you.”
His voice broke.
“She was terrified that Anthony Bellini would come after anyone connected to Elena.”
Luca stepped closer.
“Dad, you should have told me years ago.”
Frank looked up sharply.
“You were a little boy when your mother died, Luca.”
“And when you became a man, you surrounded yourself with people who solved problems using fear.”
The words landed harder than any accusation I had ever heard.
Even Luca seemed stunned.
Frank continued.
“I knew you loved me.”
“But I was afraid you'd start a war before we had enough truth to stop the right people.”
Nobody spoke.
I had spent five years watching Luca command men who would obey him without hesitation.
Yet here was his elderly father, telling him that all his power had never made Frank feel safe enough to tell him the truth.
Luca stared at the floor.
Then he spoke quietly.
“I'm listening now.”
My phone suddenly vibrated.
An unknown number appeared on the screen.
I answered without thinking.
“Hello?”
A woman's voice spoke immediately.
“Claire Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“You need to stay away from the Moretti family's business.”
I recognized Vanessa's voice.
My blood turned cold.
“Mrs. Moretti?”
She laughed bitterly.
“Don't act innocent.”
“I know Elena left something behind.”
I looked toward Luca.
Vanessa continued before I could speak.
“You have no idea what my father is capable of.”
“Give Luca that letter and walk away.”
“Otherwise, your mother's secrets will become your problem.”
The call ended.
Luca watched my expression.
“Who was that?”
“Your wife.”
His jaw tightened.
“What did she say?”
I repeated every word.
He listened without interrupting.
Then he pulled off the gold wedding band he had been wearing for only a few hours.
He placed it on the counter.
“She's not speaking for me anymore.”
Outside, the rain grew heavier.
I looked again at Elena's letter.
At the bottom of the page, beneath her signature, was a tiny handwritten note I hadn't noticed before.
It contained four simple words.
“Ask Ruth about Sunday.”
My heart began pounding.
Because my mother had one strange habit that I had never understood.
Every Sunday, she wore the same blue dress.
And after her death, she had left that dress to me with one unusual instruction.
May you like
“Never throw this away, Claire.”
Now, for the first time, I wondered what she had hidden inside it.
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