Chapter 3 - THE FINGERPRINT THAT OPENED EVERY DOOR
“Who has your fingerprint, Dad?”
Luca's question hung in the air.
Anthony Moretti stared at his son's hand.
Then he slowly turned his own right hand over.
Olivia noticed a faint purple stain across the old man's thumb.
A stain that looked remarkably like the ink used on official documents.
Daniel noticed it too.
“Mr. Moretti, has someone been making you sign papers?”
Anthony shook his head.
Then tapped his right thumb with his left index finger.
Three times.
Olivia remembered the medical bracelet.
“The fingerprint wasn't necessarily taken recently,” she said.
Everyone looked at her.
“At Emma's rehabilitation center, certain patients use fingerprint authentication when they can't sign. Families are supposed to give permission first.”
Luca examined his father's thumb.
Anthony had difficulty holding a pen since his stroke.
His family had used a biometric identification system for years, mostly to help him access medical records.
Daniel began checking the foundation's records.
“There were three authorization requests submitted under Anthony's name this month.”
Luca's expression darkened.
“Three?”
“One for the warehouse. One for the medical transfer. And one for an appointment at a private clinic.”
“Which clinic?”
Daniel turned the screen.
“Lake Geneva Pediatric Recovery Institute.”
Olivia knew the name.
It was a small, expensive facility in Wisconsin that advertised experimental rehabilitation programs for children with complex neurological conditions.
Months earlier, she'd called them about Emma.
The receptionist had quoted a price so high Olivia had ended the conversation before asking about payment plans.
“Emma was on their waiting list,” she said.
Luca turned.
“You applied?”
“Last spring. They said they didn't have space.”
Daniel scrolled farther.
“According to this, Emma was admitted last week.”
Olivia felt her knees weaken.
“That's impossible.”
Vanessa suddenly spoke.
“It was a preliminary admission.”
Luca turned toward her.
“How would you know?”
“Because I arranged it.”
Silence settled over the office.
Vanessa wiped her cheeks.
“I thought the institute could help Emma.”
Olivia stared at her.
“You threatened to fire me if I left work early for her appointments.”
“My father told me to keep you here until the transfer was completed.”
“And you listened?”
Vanessa looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
Olivia couldn't decide whether to scream or cry.
For months, Vanessa had criticized her work, inspected every polished glass, and threatened to replace her over minor mistakes.
And all that time she'd been making decisions about Emma's body.
“She's my daughter,” Olivia whispered.
Vanessa looked down.
“I know.”
“No. You don't.”
Anthony suddenly grasped Luca's wrist.
He tapped three times, then twice.
Luca lowered himself beside the wheelchair.
“What are you trying to tell me?”
The old man pointed at Vanessa.
Then shook his head.
“He doesn't think she's telling us everything,” Daniel said.
Vanessa's face drained.
Luca leaned forward.
“Then start telling the truth.”
She looked at Anthony.
“My father said your father couldn't understand what was happening anymore.”
Anthony's eyes filled with furious tears.
“He said the stroke had destroyed his judgment,” Vanessa continued. “He said Anthony had already approved the original foundation agreement before he became ill.”
Luca remained quiet.
“And because my father was handling the shipments, he claimed the Moretti Foundation was legally obligated to cooperate.”
“Did you verify that?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“Because he showed me a document bearing Anthony's fingerprint.”
Olivia looked down at the elderly man's stained thumb.
“Where was it taken?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“The hospital.”
Anthony struck his wheelchair arm.
Luca caught his hand.
“Dad?”
Anthony shook his head.
Then pointed toward the photograph on the desk.
Not the warehouse.
The vehicle parked beside it.
A white medical transport van.
Daniel enlarged the image.
The van's side displayed the logo of a private nursing service.
Crescent Home Care.
Luca recognized it.
“They've been sending nurses to Dad since his stroke.”
Vanessa nodded miserably.
“My father recommended them.”
Luca felt something turn cold inside him.
He had personally interviewed the nursing supervisor.
She'd seemed experienced, calm, and respectful.
For nearly a year, Crescent nurses had entered his father's private quarters three times a week.
They helped Anthony bathe, dress, and complete physical therapy.
They also had access to his medical identification records.
Luca stood.
“Daniel, contact our independent physician. No more Crescent staff near my father.”
Daniel immediately made the arrangement.
Then he opened the nursing company's registration.
His expression changed.
“Boss, Crescent Home Care was purchased eight months ago.”
“By whom?”
“A holding company called North Shore Patient Services.”
Vanessa's shoulders sagged.
“That's one of my father's companies.”
Luca stared at her.
“You put your father's employees in charge of my father's care?”
“I thought they were qualified.”
“You never thought to tell me?”
“He said you would overreact.”
Luca laughed once, without amusement.
“My father is sitting here with ink on his thumb because someone has been using him.”
For the first time, Vanessa couldn't meet his eyes.
Olivia knelt beside Anthony.
“You've been trying to tell someone, haven't you?”
Anthony looked at her.
Slowly, he nodded.
She gently touched his hand.
“I'm sorry nobody listened.”
A tear rolled down his cheek.
Luca turned away.
He could face men threatening his business without flinching.
But he couldn't look at his father's tears.
His mother had died eleven years earlier.
Anthony had raised him to believe that protecting family was the one responsibility no man could delegate.
And Luca had delegated his father's care to strangers.
Daniel's phone vibrated with an incoming secure message.
“The detectives have the warehouse address,” he said. “They're coordinating with Wisconsin authorities about the transfer order.”
“Good.”
“But there's a complication.”
Luca looked up.
“The transfer is technically scheduled through an accredited medical transportation company. Their paperwork identifies Olivia as the consenting guardian.”
Olivia shook her head.
“I didn't authorize anything.”
“They're verifying it,” Daniel said. “Until then, Emma should remain at her current center.”
Luca turned to Olivia.
“Can you contact the person caring for Emma tonight?”
“My neighbor, Mrs. Henderson. Emma's staying with her until I finish work.”
“Call her.”
Olivia dialed.
Mrs. Henderson answered on the second ring.
“Olivia, honey, I was about to call you.”
Olivia's stomach tightened.
“Is Emma okay?”
“She is. She's watching a movie with my grandson.”
Olivia closed her eyes.
“Thank God.”
“But something strange happened this afternoon.”
“What?”
“A nurse came by. She said Emma had been approved for a special rehabilitation program. She wanted to collect her medical records.”
Olivia gripped the phone.
“Did you let her inside?”
“Of course not. I told her to speak to you.”
“Good.”
“There was something else. She left a gift for Emma.”
“What kind of gift?”
“A small music box. Beautiful little thing. Emma's been carrying it around.”
Olivia looked toward Anthony.
“Please put it somewhere safe until I get home.”
Mrs. Henderson agreed.
After the call, Olivia explained what she'd heard.
Daniel immediately requested a photograph of the gift.
Mrs. Henderson sent one.
The little music box was shaped like a white carousel.
A silver horse stood in its center.
Luca recognized the design.
His face changed.
“Where did that come from?”
Olivia looked at him.
“You've seen one?”
Luca opened a locked drawer.
Inside lay an old photograph.
It showed a smiling woman standing beside Anthony.
Luca's late mother, Isabella Moretti.
She held an identical music box.
“My mother used to give these to children recovering from surgery,” Luca said. “She had them specially made for the foundation.”
Anthony began trembling.
Luca turned the photograph over.
On the back, in his mother's handwriting, were the words:
For every child who needs to remember that someone believes in them.
Olivia's eyes filled.
“That sounds beautiful.”
“It was.”
Daniel examined the photo Mrs. Henderson had sent.
“Boss, there's an inscription underneath the music box.”
He enlarged the image.
The engraving read:
ISABELLA MORETTI CHILDREN'S FUND — RECIPIENT 008.
Olivia stared.
“Recipient eight?”
Daniel looked back at the spreadsheet.
“Seven families were listed on the flash drive.”
Luca slowly turned toward his father.
“Dad, was there an eighth child?”
Anthony nodded.
Then he reached for the photograph of Isabella.
His trembling finger touched her face.
He looked at Olivia.
And spoke with painful effort.
“YOUR MOTHER.”
Olivia froze.
“My mother?”
Anthony gripped her hand.
May you like
Then whispered:
“SHE FOUND THE FIRST SEVEN.”
