Chapter 8 - THE WOMAN WHO KEPT THE PROMISE
I stared at my mother's name.
For a moment, the room seemed to tilt.
Luca looked at me.
“Emily?”
I couldn't answer.
Margaret Carter.
My mother.
The woman whose medical bills had brought me to the Moretti mansion eleven months earlier.
The woman who had spent years working as a home health aide.
The woman who had recently become too ill to leave her apartment.
Why would Elena Moretti know her?
And why would she trust her with a missing child?
Luca placed the photograph before me.
“Is that your mother?”
I nodded.
“My mother's name is Margaret Carter.”
Vanessa stared.
“Your mother worked for the hospital?”
“No.”
I swallowed.
“She worked in private home care.”
Marco leaned closer.
“Did she ever work in Wisconsin?”
I frowned.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Milwaukee. Years ago.”
Antonio closed his eyes.
“Oh, Elena.”
Luca turned toward him.
“What?”
The chef shook his head.
“She knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That Emily's mother was helping Ruth.”
I stared at him.
“You knew my mother?”
“No,” Antonio said. “But Elena mentioned a woman named Margaret who was protecting a child.”
I felt my heart pounding.
“My mother never told me.”
Luca looked at me.
“Emily, I need you to think carefully. Did she ever mention a little girl?”
I tried to remember.
My mother had always been private about her work.
She cared for elderly patients.
Sometimes children recovering from illnesses.
But there was one name.
A name she occasionally mentioned during my teenage years.
“Clara,” I whispered.
Vanessa looked up.
“What?”
“My mother used to talk about a little girl named Clara.”
Marco leaned forward.
“Where is she now?”
“I don't know.”
Then I remembered something else.
A photograph on my mother's refrigerator.
A young girl standing beside a lake.
Dark curls.
A yellow coat.
My stomach tightened.
“I think I've seen her.”
Vanessa gripped the table.
“Where?”
“In my mother's apartment.”
Luca was already reaching for his coat.
“We're going.”
I stepped toward him.
“Mr. Moretti, my mother is very sick.”
His expression softened.
“Then we'll be careful.”
Antonio offered to stay with Sophie and Ethan.
But the children had heard enough to know something was happening.
Sophie appeared in the doorway.
“Daddy, are you leaving?”
Luca knelt.
“I need to talk to Emily's mother.”
“About Ethan?”
“About someone else.”
Sophie looked toward her brother.
“Can he stay with me?”
Luca touched her cheek.
“Yes.”
Ethan stepped forward.
“Are you coming back?”
Luca looked at him.
“I am.”
He removed his watch.
A simple black watch he'd worn for years.
He placed it in Ethan's palm.
“Keep this until I return.”
Ethan stared.
“Really?”
“Really.”
The boy slipped it around his wrist.
It was far too large.
Sophie smiled.
“You look like Daddy.”
Ethan smiled back.
Luca stood.
I saw the tears he was trying to hide.
We left the mansion together.
Marco drove.
Vanessa sat in the back seat, gripping the silver pendant.
Nobody spoke for several minutes.
Finally, she looked at me.
“Emily.”
I turned.
“I'm sorry for what I said tonight.”
I remained quiet.
She continued.
“I humiliated you because you protected Sophie when I wanted everyone to listen to me.”
I looked toward the window.
“My mother taught me that children shouldn't have to earn kindness.”
Vanessa began crying.
“She was right.”
I wanted to say something comforting.
But I couldn't.
Not yet.
Too much had happened.
We reached my mother's apartment in a modest neighborhood on Chicago's North Side.
Luca insisted we go in quietly.
My mother was sitting in her favorite armchair.
A blanket covered her knees.
When she saw me, she smiled.
“Emily, sweetheart.”
Then she noticed the others.
Her smile disappeared.
She looked directly at Vanessa.
And whispered:
“Margaret Bellini's daughter.”
Vanessa froze.
“My grandmother?”
My mother nodded slowly.
“I knew her.”
Luca stepped forward.
“Mrs. Carter, I'm Luca Moretti.”
She looked at him for a long moment.
“I know.”
“You knew my wife?”
Margaret's eyes filled with tears.
“Elena was a good woman.”
I sat beside her.
“Mom, why didn't you tell me?”
She squeezed my hand.
“Because I promised.”
Luca crouched beside her chair.
“Mrs. Carter, there's a little boy at my house. His name is Ethan.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“I know.”
“And we believe another child was taken.”
She nodded.
“Clara.”
Vanessa began shaking.
“Is she alive?”
Margaret looked at her.
“Yes.”
Vanessa covered her mouth.
“Where is she?”
My mother hesitated.
Then she looked toward me.
“Emily, remember the girl who used to visit us during summer?”
I frowned.
“Clara?”
“Yes.”
“She was your patient's granddaughter.”
Margaret shook her head.
“No, sweetheart.”
My mother reached toward a small wooden box beside her chair.
Inside were several photographs.
She handed me one.
Clara stood beside me at a county fair.
I looked about sixteen.
She looked eleven.
We were laughing.
I remembered that day.
We'd ridden the Ferris wheel.
She'd spilled lemonade down my shirt.
I'd bought her a stuffed rabbit.
But I hadn't seen her in years.
“She was a little girl in protective care,” my mother explained. “Ruth arranged for me to look after her during the summers.”
Vanessa leaned closer.
“What happened to her?”
Margaret hesitated.
“She grew up.”
“Where is she now?”
“She lives in Wisconsin.”
Luca's eyes narrowed.
“Can you contact her?”
Margaret nodded.
“But you need to understand something first.”
She looked toward Vanessa.
“Clara knows she was adopted. She doesn't know the circumstances.”
Vanessa began crying.
“I just want to see her.”
Margaret took her hand.
“You can't walk into her life and demand that she become your daughter overnight.”
Vanessa nodded through tears.
“I know.”
“She's seventeen now. She has a home, a school, and people who love her.”
“I don't want to take that away.”
Margaret studied her.
“Then maybe you're finally ready to meet her.”
I looked toward my mother.
“Mom, why did Elena trust you?”
Margaret smiled sadly.
“Because I helped Ruth after the hospital started asking questions. Elena wanted the children protected.”
Luca leaned forward.
“Did Elena know about Clara?”
“Yes.”
“Did she know where Ethan was?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't she tell me?”
Margaret's expression changed.
“Because she thought someone close to you was still working with Dr. Bellini.”
Luca looked toward Marco.
“Who?”
Margaret shook her head.
“I never knew the name. Elena was trying to confirm it.”
Vanessa whispered:
“My father?”
“No.”
Margaret looked directly at her.
“Your father was frightened of that person too.”
The room went silent.
Luca sat back.
“Who controlled the operation?”
Margaret reached into the wooden box again.
She removed an old photograph.
It showed Elena standing beside Salvatore Moretti.
Behind them stood Marco.
And beside Marco was another man.
A man with silver hair.
I recognized him.
He had attended Sophie's birthday dinner.
He had been seated beside Vanessa.
Luca stared.
“That's Richard Vale.”
Vanessa nodded.
“My father's business partner.”
Marco's expression darkened.
“He controlled the foundation's finances.”
Margaret nodded.
“Elena believed he was the one moving the children.”
Luca looked up.
“Where is he now?”
Marco's face drained of color.
“At the mansion.”
Vanessa stood abruptly.
“Richard told me he needed to collect something before leaving.”
Luca stared.
“What?”
She swallowed.
“Some old medical records my father kept there.”
Marco reached for his phone.
Then stopped.
His expression changed.
He looked toward Luca.
“The children.”
Luca was already moving.
But before he reached the door, my mother called out.
“Luca!”
He turned.
Margaret held up another photograph.
It showed Richard Vale standing beside Ethan as a toddler.
On the back was a date.
And beneath it, a handwritten note from Elena.
Richard knows where both children are. He must never learn about the notebook.
Luca stared.
May you like
Then Margaret whispered:
“IF RICHARD VALE IS IN YOUR HOUSE TONIGHT, HE ISN'T THERE FOR THE RECORDS. HE'S THERE BECAUSE SOPHIE HAS SOMETHING HE NEEDS.”
