Chapter 4 - THE NAME ELENA NEVER EXPLAINED
“Why does that boy have my family's name?”
Luca repeated the question, louder this time.
Margaret Harris stared at the necklace in his hand.
“Because Elena insisted his second surname be protected.”
Carlo gave a bitter laugh.
“That proves nothing. Your wife could have called the child anything.”
Luca ignored him.
“Margaret, was Daniel related to Elena?”
“I don't know.”
The answer seemed to frustrate him more than a lie would have.
“You knew her for years.”
“I knew she was protecting someone. She didn't tell me everything.”
Vanessa looked from her father to Anthony.
“Did you know about the name?”
Anthony shook his head.
Carlo said nothing.
And that silence troubled me.
Lily stood beside me, her white shoes touching the carpet.
She looked exhausted.
I knelt.
“Sweetheart, would you like some pancakes?”
She blinked.
“Now?”
“A little late-night breakfast.”
“Strawberry?”
“Extra strawberries.”
For the first time, she smiled.
Luca watched us.
Then he looked toward Dominic.
“Ask the kitchen to prepare something for Lily and Emily.”
“I can make it myself,” I said.
“I know.”
His voice softened.
“But you've done enough tonight.”
I wasn't sure how to accept kindness from a man whose household had taught me to keep my eyes lowered.
“Thank you, sir.”
Lily squeezed his hand.
“Daddy, don't be scary.”
The words stopped him.
He crouched.
“Am I scaring you?”
“A little.”
His face changed.
“I'm sorry, princess.”
She touched his cheek.
“You can just ask questions.”
He kissed her palm.
“I'll remember that.”
After we left, I could still hear the adults discussing Isabel, Daniel, and the missing charity fund.
Lily ate half a pancake before her eyes began closing.
I carried her upstairs and helped her change.
She insisted that the white shoes stay beside her bed.
“Mommy bought them,” she said sleepily.
“I know.”
“She would have liked you.”
My throat tightened.
“You think so?”
Lily nodded.
“Because you don't yell when I'm sad.”
I waited until she fell asleep.
Then I looked at the shoes.
The left shoe still had its silver butterfly.
The right one was missing its decoration.
On the nightstand lay the butterfly Margaret had recovered.
I picked it up.
Something about the fastening bothered me.
The tiny clasp looked thicker than ordinary jewelry.
I turned it over.
A narrow strip of paper had been folded around the pin.
My breath caught.
I carefully unwrapped it.
Three handwritten words.
Check the blue ledger.
Underneath was a date.
October 18.
Three years earlier.
The week Elena died.
I stood motionless beside Lily's bed.
Then I went downstairs.
Luca was alone in the library.
He was holding Elena's photograph.
For a moment, I saw a grieving husband rather than the powerful man everyone feared.
He looked up.
“Is Lily asleep?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
I placed the folded paper on his desk.
“There's something inside the butterfly.”
He read it.
His expression changed.
“October eighteenth.”
“Does that date mean something?”
He nodded slowly.
“Elena died on October twenty-second.”
Four days later.
I waited.
Then he opened a drawer and removed a small leather-bound notebook.
“My wife kept records of the church program. She used colored notebooks for different projects.”
“Did she have a blue one?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
Luca stared at the empty space inside the drawer.
“It disappeared after her funeral.”
I felt a chill.
“Who handled her belongings?”
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he looked at me.
“Vanessa helped organize the house when I could barely function.”
That explained one thing.
But it opened another.
Why would Vanessa, who had only recently begun dating Luca at the time, have access to Elena's private records?
I asked him.
He leaned against the desk.
“Vanessa was a family acquaintance. Her mother knew Elena through charity events. After Elena died, she helped with meals and arrangements.”
“Was she close to Lily?”
“She tried.”
I thought about Lily's fear.
“Did Lily ever ask you not to marry her?”
Luca looked down.
“Once.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her Vanessa would become part of our family.”
“And Lily?”
“She asked whether that meant her mother would stop being part of it.”
The admission hurt him.
I could see that.
“I should have listened,” he whispered.
Before I could answer, Dominic entered.
“Mr. Moretti, Sofia Reyes is at St. Augustine's. Margaret arranged for us to speak with her.”
Luca straightened.
“Have the car brought around.”
“I'd like to come,” I said.
He hesitated.
“Emily, you've already been through enough.”
“Lily trusts me. If Sofia spoke with her, perhaps she'll explain things to someone who isn't part of the Bellini family.”
He considered that.
Then nodded.
At St. Augustine's, the church was almost empty.
The memorial display had been moved into a storage alcove.
Elena's photograph leaned against a wall, wrapped in brown paper.
A young woman stood beside it.
She wore a pale blue coat.
Her face was tired, her dark eyes guarded.
“Sofia Reyes?” Luca asked.
She turned.
When she saw him, she stepped backward.
“You look like the photographs.”
“What photographs?”
“The ones my sister kept.”
Luca frowned.
“Isabel knew me?”
“Your wife showed her pictures of your family.”
“Then why didn't Isabel come to me?”
Sofia looked away.
“Because Elena told her you were dangerous when someone threatened people you loved.”
He didn't argue.
Instead, he asked gently, “Where is your sister?”
Sofia's eyes filled.
“I wish I knew.”
She reached into her coat and removed an old bus ticket.
“Isabel left Chicago three years ago. This was the last thing she mailed me.”
The ticket was faded.
Chicago to Milwaukee.
One-way.
On the back, Isabel had written a sentence.
If anything happens, remember Daniel's real name.
Sofia looked at Luca.
“My sister was accused of stealing money. They told her she'd never see her boy again unless she disappeared.”
“Who told her?”
Sofia stared toward the church office.
“Carlo Bellini.”
Luca's jaw tightened.
“Do you have proof?”
Sofia nodded.
“Not enough to prove everything. But I have Elena's blue ledger.”
My pulse quickened.
“Where?”
Sofia opened her handbag.
Inside lay a worn blue notebook.
Luca reached toward it.
But Sofia held it close.
“Before I give you this, you need to promise something.”
“What?”
“You won't use your people to punish anyone before we know where Daniel is.”
Luca met her eyes.
“I promise.”
She studied him.
Then handed over the ledger.
The first pages listed meals, donations, and families helped by the church.
Later entries contained financial transfers.
Bellini Development Group.
Romano Financial Consulting.
Several unfamiliar accounts.
Then Luca reached the last page.
His face changed.
Written in Elena's handwriting was a sentence underlined twice.
If Carlo discovers Daniel's real father, he will never release the child.
Luca looked up.
“Did Elena know who Daniel's father was?”
Sofia nodded.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
She pointed toward the notebook.
“Elena wrote it down.”
Luca turned the page.
A photograph was tucked beneath the cover.
It showed Isabel holding her baby.
Standing beside her was a younger man wearing a dark work jacket.
He had Luca's dark hair.
His eyes.
And the unmistakable Moretti family resemblance.
Luca stared at the photograph.
I saw his hand begin trembling.
“That's my brother,” he whispered.
Sofia nodded.
“Gabriel Moretti.”
Luca sank into a chair.
Gabriel had been estranged from the family for years.
According to Sofia, he had worked on construction contracts for Bellini Development before disappearing from Chicago.
Luca looked at the photograph again.
Then at the child in Isabel's arms.
“Daniel is Gabriel's son?”
Sofia's eyes filled.
“Yes.”
May you like
And then she said something that changed everything.
“YOUR BROTHER DIDN'T ABANDON THEM, LUCA. HE WENT TO CARLO BELLINI TO GET HIS SON BACK—AND NOBODY HAS SEEN HIM SINCE.”
