Chapter 5 - THE MAN WITH THE BLACK GLOVES
Peter Walsh had always seemed like the safest man in the mansion.
He checked the locks before Noah went to bed.
He carried groceries for elderly staff.
Last winter, when I slipped on the icy driveway, he drove me to urgent care without being asked.
Now he stood in the drawing room with black leather gloves on his hands and Elena Moretti's rosary hanging between his fingers.
Luca stepped in front of Noah.
“Put it on the table, Peter.”
Peter obeyed.
He placed the rosary beside the bracelet.
“I didn't come here to hurt anyone.”
Daniel moved toward him.
Peter raised his empty hands.
“You can search me. I'm unarmed.”
Daniel checked him anyway.
Luca watched with a cold expression.
“Explain yourself.”
Peter looked toward Vittorio.
“I've been delivering food and medicine for the past seven months.”
Mrs. Marino stared at him.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“And you let me search for him?”
Peter lowered his eyes.
“I was ordered not to interfere.”
“By Carlo?” Luca asked.
Peter nodded.
Luca took one step forward.
“You've worked for me fifteen years.”
“I know.”
“My son trusted you.”
“I know.”
“And you helped keep his grandfather hidden in my house.”
Peter's voice cracked.
“My wife has advanced kidney disease. Carlo has been paying for treatment that insurance wouldn't cover. He threatened to stop.”
I wanted to hate him.
Part of me did.
But I remembered the way Peter spoke about his wife, Helen.
How he always brought home flowers on Fridays.
How frightened he looked when her condition worsened.
He wasn't innocent.
But neither was he the monster I had imagined.
Luca studied him.
“You could have come to me.”
“Carlo said he'd make sure she never got another appointment.”
“Do you think I'm incapable of helping someone?”
Peter looked up.
“I thought you'd kill me for betraying you.”
That hurt Luca more than Peter seemed to realize.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Luca said, “You should have trusted the man you've known for fifteen years.”
Peter's eyes filled.
“I should have.”
Daniel escorted him to a chair.
Luca turned toward the rosary.
“Why bring this?”
Peter swallowed.
“Because Carlo wanted it removed from the chapel before you found it.”
I looked at him.
“The chapel?”
He nodded.
“The property outside Chicago. He sold it last month.”
“To whom?” Luca demanded.
Peter hesitated.
“A development company.”
“What company?”
He looked toward Vanessa.
Her face had gone pale.
“Bellini Holdings,” she whispered.
Peter shook his head.
“No. Bennett Educational Trust.”
I stopped breathing.
Bennett.
My mother's maiden name.
My name.
“What did you say?”
Peter looked confused.
“That's the name on the transfer paperwork.”
Luca turned toward me.
“Sophie?”
“I don't know anything about a trust.”
“Your mother?”
“She barely had enough money to pay our rent.”
Vittorio closed his eyes.
“Margaret wasn't poor.”
I stared at him.
“Yes, she was.”
“She lived modestly because she didn't want Carlo tracing the money.”
“What money?”
Vittorio sat slowly.
“Elena set aside funds for the clinic patients and the families who helped them. Margaret was one of the trustees.”
I felt something tighten in my chest.
My mother had worked double shifts.
She wore old shoes until the soles split.
She counted grocery coupons.
If she had access to money, why had she lived like that?
Vittorio seemed to understand my expression.
“The funds weren't hers to spend. She was protecting them for people who had already lost everything.”
I looked down at the bracelet.
For years, I had believed my mother left me nothing but responsibility.
Now I was learning she had left behind something much heavier.
A secret she had died protecting.
Luca picked up the rosary.
It was made of dark wooden beads, with a small silver crucifix.
“My mother prayed with this every morning,” he said.
He turned it over.
One bead was larger than the others.
A narrow metal ring ran around its center.
He pressed it.
Nothing.
Peter spoke quietly.
“She always kept the crucifix facing the window.”
Luca looked at him.
“What?”
“At the chapel. She used to sit by the east window, holding it toward the sunlight.”
Mrs. Marino nodded.
“She said the light helped her remember.”
Luca examined the crucifix again.
Then he noticed a small engraving.
Four numbers.
0417\.
The same number on the brass cylinder.
“Box 417,” I whispered.
Luca held the rosary beside the cylinder.
They fit together.
The brass piece slid into a tiny opening behind the crucifix.
A small compartment released.
Inside was a thin strip of photographic film.
Daniel brought a magnifying lamp.
We examined it carefully.
There were several tiny images.
A clinic hallway.
A room with medical cabinets.
A ledger page.
And one photograph of a woman sitting beside Elena Moretti.
The woman had long dark hair.
She was holding a baby.
I recognized her immediately.
Not because I had ever met her.
Because I had seen her photograph on Noah's bedside table.
Luca's late wife.
Anna.
Noah's mother.
Luca stared at the image.
“Anna knew?”
Vittorio looked away.
Luca turned toward him.
“Papa. Did my wife know about this?”
“She found out shortly before Noah was born.”
Luca's voice rose.
“Why didn't she tell me?”
Vittorio's eyes filled.
“Because she was trying to protect you.”
Luca laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“Everyone keeps saying that. My mother protected me. My father protected me. My wife protected me. And somehow I was the only person who knew nothing.”
No one answered.
Luca looked at the photograph again.
Anna had died four years earlier in a highway accident.
He had never fully recovered.
Noah barely remembered her voice.
Now she was another part of a secret that kept growing.
Daniel brought over a laptop to enlarge the scanned film.
One photograph showed a handwritten entry in the clinic ledger.
I leaned closer.
The patient was listed under an unfamiliar name.
But beside it was a date.
And a note:
Transferred after delivery. Child remains with family.
Luca stared at the document.
“Whose child?”
Vittorio's face changed.
“Luciano, please.”
Luca turned on him.
“Whose child?”
Vittorio looked at Noah.
The boy was drawing quietly at the table.
Then Vittorio whispered something that made my stomach drop.
“There was another baby.”
Luca stood absolutely still.
“What baby?”
Vittorio swallowed.
“Anna didn't go to that clinic because she was helping Elena.”
He looked toward the photograph.
“She went there because she was pregnant.”
Luca frowned.
“Noah was born years after my mother died.”
Vittorio nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then what are you saying?”
The old man closed his eyes.
“I'm saying Anna went back to the clinic before the accident.”
Luca gripped the table.
“And what happened?”
Vittorio's answer was barely audible.
“She discovered that Carlo Bellini had been keeping records of another child connected to your family.”
Luca looked at me.
Then at Noah.
Then back at his father.
“Tell me who that child is.”
Before Vittorio could answer, Vanessa suddenly spoke.
“I know.”
Everyone turned.
She was staring at the enlarged photograph.
Her voice trembled.
“I know that woman.”
May you like
She pointed toward the figure beside Anna.
“That's my mother.”
