Chapter 8 - THE DAUGHTER HE ERASED
Vanessa stared at Eleanor.
For the first time since I'd met her, she seemed unable to find a cruel remark or an elegant excuse.
“My mother?”
Eleanor nodded.
“Isabella Bellini.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“No. My mother had one child.”
“She had two.”
The words hung between them.
Luca stepped closer.
“Eleanor, explain.”
She opened the leather notebook.
“My mother wrote everything down after she learned what Richard had done.”
Vanessa stared at the pages.
“Where did you get that?”
“From her.”
Vanessa's lips parted.
“You've seen her?”
Eleanor nodded.
“Three months ago.”
The room fell silent.
Vanessa sank into a chair.
“My mother told me she'd gone to California for medical treatment.”
“She did go,” Eleanor replied. “But she also came looking for me.”
I watched Vanessa struggle to understand.
For years, she'd treated everyone beneath her social standing as though they were disposable.
Now she was discovering that her father had treated her own sister the same way.
“Why didn't she tell me?” Vanessa whispered.
Eleanor looked at her sadly.
“Because she was afraid you'd tell Richard.”
Vanessa flinched.
It was cruel.
But I understood why Isabella might have been afraid.
Eleanor explained that she'd been born during a brief separation between Isabella and Richard.
Isabella had believed their marriage was ending.
She'd become involved with David Mercer, then a young accountant working for the Bellini family.
When she discovered she was pregnant, she intended to leave Richard permanently.
But David wanted the security and influence that came with Richard's business.
He betrayed Isabella.
He told Richard everything.
Richard agreed to preserve the marriage on one condition.
The child had to disappear.
Isabella gave birth in secret.
Marco Moretti learned what had happened when Catherine Carter discovered payments being made to the clinic.
He arranged for the baby to be placed with a trusted family.
And years later, when Richard began searching for the child again, Marco brought Eleanor under his protection.
“He put his name on my birth certificate,” Eleanor said, “because he wanted anyone looking for me to believe I belonged to him.”
Luca looked toward Henry.
“That's why Catherine's name was there.”
Henry nodded.
“Marco trusted her to act as Eleanor's guardian.”
I thought of my mother.
The quiet woman who had struggled to pay rent.
Who'd raised Noah without complaint.
Who'd protected strangers' children while worrying whether her own daughter had enough money for school supplies.
I suddenly wished I could tell her I understood.
Vanessa turned toward Eleanor.
“Why would my father want you back after all those years?”
Eleanor hesitated.
“Because my mother changed her will.”
Vanessa looked confused.
“What?”
“Two years ago, Isabella inherited a large interest in the Bellini family trust from her own father. She discovered Richard had been using the trust to move money out of the Moretti companies.”
Luca's expression darkened.
“The stolen money.”
Eleanor nodded.
“She demanded an audit.”
“What happened?”
“Richard threatened to expose her past. He said if the world learned about me, he'd make sure both of us lost everything.”
Vanessa covered her mouth.
“He told me Mom was becoming unstable.”
Eleanor looked at her.
“He wanted you to believe that.”
Vanessa began crying.
Not loudly.
Not theatrically.
Just quietly, as though something inside her had finally collapsed.
Luca turned to Henry.
“Where's Matthew?”
Henry looked toward Eleanor.
She nodded.
“He's safe.”
Luca took a step forward.
“You know where he is?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
Eleanor studied his face.
“Because Matthew wanted to know what kind of man you were before he met you.”
Luca looked wounded.
“I've never hurt him.”
“No,” Eleanor said softly. “But he spent his childhood believing you had abandoned him.”
Luca closed his eyes.
I could see how deeply the words struck.
Eleanor continued.
“He knew who you were. He knew your name. He saw photographs of you at charity dinners and business openings.”
“Why didn't he come to me?”
“Because Richard told him you knew he existed and didn't want him.”
Luca slowly sat down.
His shoulders sagged.
For a long moment, the man everyone feared looked as though he had no strength left.
Then he whispered, “I would have wanted him.”
Eleanor's expression softened.
“Then tell him yourself.”
Matthew arrived half an hour later.
He wore the same dark blue mechanic's jacket I'd seen at our apartment.
His hands were stained with engine grease.
And when he saw Luca, he stopped in the doorway.
Neither spoke.
Matthew looked at the photograph in Luca's hand.
The baby wrapped in a cream-colored blanket.
“Where did you get that?”
Luca stood.
“My uncle kept it.”
Matthew stared at him.
“You're Luca Moretti.”
“Yes.”
Matthew gave a humorless smile.
“You look different in person.”
Luca swallowed.
“So do you.”
Matthew looked away.
“I didn't come here for money.”
“I know.”
“I don't want a job in your company.”
“Okay.”
“And I don't want you telling everyone I'm your son just because it makes you feel better.”
Luca nodded.
“I understand.”
Matthew looked surprised.
“You do?”
“No. Not completely.”
Luca took a slow breath.
“But I want to.”
For the first time, Matthew's expression softened.
Just slightly.
Then he reached into his jacket.
He removed a small silver necklace.
A tiny star hung from its chain.
“My mother left me this.”
Luca stared at it.
“Caroline.”
Matthew nodded.
“She wore it in the only picture I have of her.”
Luca's eyes filled.
“I gave that to her.”
Matthew looked down.
For a moment, neither man moved.
Then Luca said something simple.
“I'm sorry I wasn't there.”
Matthew's voice broke.
“You didn't know.”
“No.”
“But I still grew up without you.”
Luca nodded.
“I know.”
Matthew wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
“I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that.”
“Neither do I,” Luca whispered.
They stood facing one another.
Two men who had lost the same woman.
And nearly twenty-one years they could never recover.
But the moment didn't last.
Anthony entered carrying a sealed archival box.
“Mr. Moretti, we found the original financial records.”
Luca turned.
“Where?”
“In the Bellini Children's Trust storage office.”
Anthony placed the box on the table.
Inside were bank statements, signed authorizations, and a ledger spanning eleven years.
The first pages confirmed the theft.
Millions had been transferred from Moretti shipping accounts into the Bellini foundation.
But halfway through, Luca stopped reading.
His expression changed.
“What is this?”
Anthony leaned closer.
There was a second ledger.
A list of payments made to a private clinic.
Each entry carried a date.
A child's name.
And a signature.
Luca turned the book toward Henry.
Henry's face went white.
“What?” I whispered.
Luca pointed toward the final entry.
The date was only six months earlier.
The name was familiar.
SOPHIA MORETTI.
Luca's daughter.
Nine years old.
And beside her name was a payment marked:
GUARDIANSHIP TRANSFER — AUTHORIZATION PENDING.
Matthew stepped closer.
“What does that mean?”
Luca slowly closed the ledger.
May you like
His voice was barely above a whisper.
“IT MEANS RICHARD WASN'T FINISHED TAKING CHILDREN FROM MY FAMILY.”
