Chapter 8 - THE MAN WHO CAME BACK FOR HIS SISTER
“If you find this, Victor already knows.”
I stared at the warning.
Luca took the paper from my mother's trembling hands.
“Then we assume Bellini is watching the house.”
Charles nodded.
“We should contact the authorities before anyone goes to Union Station.”
Luca looked at him.
“And tell them what?”
“That we have evidence suggesting fraud, possible intimidation, and interference with an elderly woman's property.”
My mother spoke quietly.
“And a warning from my brother.”
Charles turned toward her.
“We still don't know when he wrote it.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
But I could see the hope in her eyes.
It frightened me almost as much as the possibility of danger.
If Daniel was alive, my mother might finally see the brother she'd mourned for thirty-two years.
If he wasn't, this could reopen a wound she'd barely survived.
Luca asked Daniel Russo to coordinate with an attorney experienced in federal financial investigations.
He also arranged for copies of Anthony's notebooks, the photograph album, and the hidden notes to be preserved.
Then he made another decision.
“We're moving my mother out of the rehabilitation center today, if her doctors approve.”
Charles frowned.
“Are you certain that's wise?”
“She wants to come home. I want to hear that from her directly and make sure she has proper care.”
My mother nodded.
“She deserves that.”
By eight that morning, the Moretti mansion had changed.
Wedding decorations were being removed.
The florist had been instructed to cancel the ceremony arrangements.
And Vanessa's belongings were being packed under supervision.
Isabella came downstairs wearing her pajamas.
She stopped beside the empty floral arrangements.
“Daddy?”
Luca knelt.
“Yes, princess?”
“Are you still getting married?”
He looked at her for a long moment.
“No, sweetheart.”
She studied his face.
“Because of Grandma?”
“No.”
“Because of me?”
His expression softened immediately.
“Absolutely not.”
He took both her hands.
“Vanessa made choices that hurt people. Those choices are her responsibility.”
Isabella nodded slowly.
Then whispered, “Can Grandma come home now?”
Luca smiled.
“That's what I'm working on.”
She threw her arms around him.
Watching them, I felt something inside me loosen.
For months, that little girl had been made to believe her grandmother didn't love her.
Now she had a father who was finally listening.
But our relief didn't last.
At ten, Daniel Russo returned with news.
Vanessa had gone to a Bellini-owned office building downtown.
She'd met her father there.
And she'd left less than an hour later without the leather bag.
Luca's jaw tightened.
“Victor has the book.”
Daniel nodded.
“Most likely.”
Charles looked toward my mother.
“Then we need to assume he understands the code.”
She shook her head.
“No. Daniel changed it after the fire. Victor may know about the recipe system, but not what the compass directions mean.”
I looked at her.
“Do you?”
She hesitated.
“Some of it.”
Luca took a slow breath.
“Tell us.”
“East meant the message was a warning. West meant a meeting. South meant danger. North meant safe.”
I remembered the compass drawn on the note.
East.
Victor already knew.
Then I looked again at the numbers.
One column had been written in darker ink.
“What about these?”
My mother leaned closer.
Her expression changed.
“That wasn't part of the original message.”
She worked through the numbers again.
This time, she read only the darker column.
Four letters emerged.
ROSE.
I frowned.
“Grandma Rose?”
My mother shook her head.
“Maybe.”
Then she stared toward the hallway.
“Or the person Daniel trusted.”
Charles asked, “Who else was named Rose?”
My mother looked at him.
“I don't know.”
For the first time since the engagement dinner, we had reached something she couldn't explain.
Luca checked his watch.
“We need to visit Margaret.”
He turned toward me.
“Emily, will you come?”
I nodded.
My mother joined us.
Isabella stayed home with Daniel and the household staff Luca trusted.
Before we left, she slipped her red coat into my hands.
“Take this to Grandma.”
I smiled.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded.
“She'll know what to do.”
At the rehabilitation center, Margaret Moretti was sitting beside a window overlooking a small garden.
She looked older than the woman in the photographs.
Her silver hair was neatly brushed.
A pale blue cardigan covered her shoulders.
And her hands shook slightly as she folded a napkin.
But when Luca entered, her face brightened.
“My boy.”
He crossed the room and embraced her.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then he whispered, “I'm sorry, Mom.”
Margaret touched his cheek.
“You came.”
He closed his eyes.
“I should have come sooner.”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
The honesty made his shoulders drop.
Then she noticed my mother.
“Elizabeth?”
My mother stopped in the doorway.
Margaret slowly stood with Luca's assistance.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
My mother began crying.
The two women embraced.
I watched them hold each other.
Thirty-two years of grief seemed to fill the little room.
Margaret stroked my mother's hair.
“I tried to find him.”
My mother nodded.
“I know.”
“Anthony never stopped trying.”
“I know.”
Then Margaret saw me.
Her eyes widened.
“Emily.”
I stared.
“You know me?”
She smiled.
“Of course.”
She pointed toward a photograph on her bedside table.
It showed a younger version of me standing beside my mother outside a school.
I'd never seen it before.
“Your mother sent me that years ago.”
I looked at Elizabeth.
She wiped her cheeks.
“I didn't tell you everything, honey.”
Before I could answer, Margaret noticed the red coat in my arms.
Her expression changed.
“Isabella.”
I nodded.
“She wanted you to have it.”
Margaret reached for the coat.
She ran her fingers along the wooden buttons.
Then stopped at the missing one.
“Did she find the messages?”
Luca nodded.
“Yes, Mom.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Thank God.”
Charles leaned forward.
“Mrs. Moretti, do you know what happened to the recipe book?”
She looked at him.
“Vanessa took it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I saw her searching Anthony's study the last time she visited.”
Luca frowned.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Margaret looked wounded.
“I tried.”
He had no answer.
Then she reached into the coat's lining.
Her fingers found a small hidden seam.
She carefully opened it with a fingernail.
Inside was a folded photograph.
It showed Daniel Carter as a grown man.
He had gray at his temples.
He was standing beside a woman outside a modest brick house.
On the back was written:
Daniel and Rose. September 2024.
My mother gasped.
She grabbed the edge of the chair.
“He's alive.”
Margaret nodded.
“He was when that photograph was taken.”
My mother began sobbing.
I held her while she stared at her brother's face.
Luca looked at Margaret.
“Who is Rose?”
Margaret smiled sadly.
“Daniel's wife.”
Then she pointed toward the house in the photograph.
“He's been living under another name.”
Charles leaned forward.
“Where?”
May you like
Margaret looked at my mother.
And whispered, “Less than forty miles from here.”
