Chapter 6 - THE RECORDING IN THE MUSIC BOX
“My brother doesn't have any recording.”
Natalie stared at Vanessa as if the woman had lost her mind.
“Daniel collects drawings and old movie tickets. He doesn't keep Moretti family secrets.”
Vanessa lowered her eyes.
“That's what Evelyn told Raymond.”
“Then Evelyn is lying.”
“Maybe.”
Luca turned toward Marcus.
“Can you get someone to Natalie’s apartment?”
“Already arranged. Discreetly.”
Natalie's expression sharpened.
“Don't send strangers into my brother's home.”
“You're right,” Luca said immediately. “I'll ask them to remain outside unless Daniel or his caregiver requests help.”
She studied him.
“You're actually listening.”
“I should have been listening from the beginning.”
Natalie looked away.
The words mattered.
But they didn't erase the years she and Daniel had struggled while the Moretti family lived in luxury.
“I'm going home,” she said.
“I'll drive you.”
“No. I need a little distance from you right now.”
Luca accepted that.
“Marcus can arrange a car.”
Natalie hesitated, then nodded.
Before leaving, she stopped beside Teresa's bedroom.
The older woman was sitting up, wrapped in her blue sweater.
Natalie entered quietly.
“I'm going to check on Daniel.”
Teresa reached toward her.
“Of course, sweetheart.”
Natalie remained near the doorway.
“Did you know about the money when my mother was alive?”
Teresa lowered her head.
“Not until the end. Carlo told me he'd discovered the account had been emptied.”
“Why didn't you contact us?”
“I tried to find Claire. By then she had passed away, and Raymond told us you'd moved.”
Natalie looked at her.
“We never left Middletown.”
Teresa began crying.
“I know that now.”
Natalie felt anger rise again.
But watching Teresa's fragile hands gripping the blanket, she realized the older woman had also been manipulated.
She wasn't ready to forgive.
Still, she stepped closer and adjusted the blanket.
“Get some rest.”
Teresa touched her wrist.
“Your mother used to say you had a heart too big for your own good.”
Natalie swallowed.
“She used to tell me that too.”
For a moment, neither woman spoke.
Then Natalie left.
An hour later, Daniel Brooks was sitting at the kitchen table in their modest apartment, carefully coloring a lighthouse.
At twenty-three, Daniel spoke clearly but sometimes needed extra time to respond when he was tired.
His cerebral palsy affected his movement, not his ability to understand what people said.
He looked up when Natalie entered.
“You're home early.”
“Long night.”
“Bad party?”
“The worst.”
Daniel smiled slightly.
“Did rich people fight over cake again?”
Natalie laughed despite herself.
“Something like that.”
Their caregiver, Mrs. Ellis, gave Natalie a concerned look.
“Someone called twice asking about Daniel's medical arrangements,” she said.
“Don't give them anything.”
“I didn't.”
Natalie kissed Daniel's forehead.
“Hey, do you remember Aunt Evelyn?”
Daniel stopped coloring.
“Why?”
“Someone mentioned her tonight.”
He studied his sister.
“She's mean.”
Natalie pulled out a chair.
“What do you mean?”
“She came here last spring when you were at work.”
Natalie went cold.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I did.”
“You told me someone visited.”
“You were tired.”
Natalie remembered.
Daniel had mentioned an older woman who asked about their mother's things.
She'd assumed it was one of Claire's former coworkers.
“What did she want?”
“My wooden music box.”
Natalie frowned.
The music box sat on Daniel's bedroom shelf.
Claire had given it to him when he was little.
A painted sailboat turned above a faded ocean scene when the lid opened.
“Why would she want that?”
Daniel shrugged.
“She said Mom promised it to her. I said no.”
“Good.”
“She got mad.”
Natalie felt her heart tighten.
“What happened?”
“She told me I'd be sorry.”
Natalie took his hand.
“You weren't wrong to say no.”
Daniel looked relieved.
“Can we have dinner now?”
“Yes.”
But first, Natalie went into his bedroom.
The music box stood beside a framed photograph of Claire and Thomas.
She picked it up.
The painted lid was chipped.
Inside, the familiar melody played as the little sailboat turned.
Natalie remembered hearing it throughout her childhood.
Daniel loved the thing.
She examined the lining.
There was nothing unusual.
Then she noticed the underside.
One of the felt pads had been replaced.
She pressed lightly.
A narrow wooden panel shifted.
Inside was a small digital voice recorder, wrapped in yellowed tissue paper.
Natalie's hands began shaking.
She carried it to the kitchen.
“Daniel, did Mom put this in your music box?”
He looked at it.
“Dad did.”
“Thomas?”
Daniel nodded.
“Before he got sick.”
Natalie sat.
Thomas had died seventeen years earlier.
Carlo had died only eighteen months ago.
How could a recording left by Thomas contain Carlo's final secrets?
She switched it on.
The device held several files.
The first recording was dated years earlier.
A man's voice spoke.
It was unfamiliar, but warm.
“Claire, it's Carlo. I know you don't want to hear from me. I understand.”
Natalie pressed a hand to her mouth.
The voice continued.
“Thomas is right that your children deserve peace. I'm sending the money through the trust, and Raymond will handle the paperwork. Please tell Natalie I'm proud of the girl she's becoming.”
Natalie felt tears spill down her face.
The next file contained Claire's voice.
“Carlo, the funds still haven't arrived. Daniel needs equipment we can't afford. Thomas won't ask again, but I will. Please don't let Raymond tell you we're being ungrateful.”
Then came another recording.
Thomas's voice.
Weak.
Angry.
“If anything happens to me, Claire, don't trust Raymond Moretti. He came here today and said the trust was closed. But I saw the statements. He's hiding something.”
Natalie closed her eyes.
Thomas had known.
He had tried to protect them.
The final file carried a much more recent date.
Just twenty months earlier.
Carlo's voice sounded older and strained.
“Margaret, if you're hearing this, Raymond's already realized I've found the missing accounts. I need you to get the original records to Luca.”
A woman's voice answered.
“What about Claire's children?”
“I've arranged for Natalie to receive everything owed to her. Daniel's treatment will be covered. I won't let my brother ruin their lives again.”
There was a scraping noise.
Then another man's voice entered.
Raymond.
“You should have left those records alone, Carlo.”
The recording ended abruptly.
Natalie sat motionless.
Carlo had tried to repair the harm.
Raymond had stopped him.
But something bothered her.
“Daniel,” she said carefully, “when did this recorder go into your music box?”
He thought for a moment.
“Not when I was little.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Mrs. Bellini brought it.”
Natalie stared.
“Margaret Bellini?”
Daniel nodded.
“Last winter.”
The timing finally made sense.
Margaret had visited the apartment after Carlo's death and secretly left the updated recorder in the music box Thomas had originally used to preserve older messages.
“Did she say anything?”
Daniel reached for his colored pencil.
“She said to keep it safe until Luca was ready.”
Natalie's heart pounded.
“Ready for what?”
Daniel looked up.
“To hear why his dad got sick.”
At that moment, Natalie noticed one last file on the recorder.
It was labeled:
HOSPITAL — FINAL NIGHT.
She pressed play.
Carlo's exhausted voice filled the kitchen.
“Raymond, I know what you changed in my medication records.”
May you like
Then Raymond answered, cold and clear.
“And who do you think the doctors will believe?”
