Chapter 5 - THE EIGHTH CHILD
“It was me?”
Olivia read the sentence again.
Then once more.
Daniel stood beside the bedroom door, giving her space.
From the living room came Emma's laughter.
Mrs. Henderson was helping her choose a movie.
That ordinary sound made the letter in Olivia's hands feel even more frightening.
She continued reading.
Twenty-one years ago, you were selected as the eighth child in a medical assistance program established by Isabella Moretti.
The first seven children had already received treatment. Their families were promised continuing support.
But when I discovered irregularities in the program's accounts, Isabella asked me to help her protect the children's records.
Olivia looked at Daniel.
“Twenty-one years ago. I was four.”
Daniel nodded.
“Keep reading.”
You were the youngest child in the original group. You had been hospitalized with a serious infection, and the foundation paid for the specialist who saved your hearing.
Olivia touched her left ear.
She had worn hearing aids briefly as a child.
Her mother always said a charitable donation had covered the treatment.
Olivia had never known whose donation.
Isabella called you her little sunflower because you refused to smile for the doctors until she brought you yellow flowers.
Olivia began crying.
The sunflower.
The music box.
The woman she barely remembered.
Pieces of her childhood were suddenly fitting together.
But the next paragraph changed everything.
The foundation's medical assistance fund was supposed to remain independent of the Moretti shipping business. However, a man named Richard Bellini proposed moving equipment through his private warehouses to reduce transportation costs.
Isabella refused.
Richard continued approaching Anthony after she became ill. I believed he intended to use the foundation as a way to gain control over valuable medical supply contracts.
Olivia lowered the page.
“Richard Bellini was trying to take over the charity twenty-one years ago.”
Daniel frowned.
“Then why would Anthony approve anything now?”
She read farther.
Anthony supported Isabella's decision. Together, we collected records showing that several promised deliveries had been delayed without explanation.
Before we could complete the investigation, Richard's company withdrew from the proposal.
Olivia stopped.
“He withdrew?”
Daniel leaned forward.
“That's important.”
We believed the matter had ended. Isabella asked me to preserve copies of the records because she never entirely trusted him.
After Isabella died, I kept them hidden.
Olivia looked at the final paragraph.
If anyone ever tries to use your childhood medical records, remember this: receiving charity never gives another person ownership of your life.
You owe no one your silence.
Love, Mom.
For several minutes, Olivia couldn't speak.
Her mother had been protecting records from an investigation that had begun before Emma was born.
And now those same records were being used against her daughter.
Daniel examined the envelope.
“There should be more.”
Olivia looked up.
“What?”
“Your mother wrote that she preserved copies of the records. But there's only a letter and a photograph.”
Olivia searched the envelope again.
Nothing.
She examined the coat.
The lining had been repaired near the collar.
A different fabric had been stitched into place.
She turned the coat inside out.
In the seam was a tiny brass key.
Daniel leaned closer.
“That's not a house key.”
Olivia recognized the shape.
“It's from a hospital records cabinet.”
She remembered her mother carrying a ring of similar keys when she worked at St. Catherine's.
Engraved on the brass was a number.
214\.
Olivia held it tightly.
“Maybe she left the records at the hospital.”
Daniel looked at his phone.
“St. Catherine's closed its old records annex four years ago.”
“Where did everything go?”
“Most records were transferred to the hospital's main campus.”
“Then we need to go there.”
“Tomorrow morning. With the detective handling this.”
Olivia hated the delay.
But Emma needed her.
And the police needed to preserve the evidence properly.
She folded the coat across her lap.
For the first time since her mother's funeral, she wished she could hear Margaret's voice.
Not to ask why she had kept secrets.
Just to hear her say everything would be all right.
A soft voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Mommy?”
Emma stood in the doorway, supporting herself against the frame while her pink wheelchair waited behind her.
Olivia immediately moved toward her.
“Sweetheart, don't stand without your walker.”
“I wanted to show you.”
Emma held out the little carousel music box.
Olivia felt her heart sink.
“Where did you get that?”
“The lady left it.”
“I know.”
Emma turned its silver key.
A gentle melody filled the room.
Then she held it toward Olivia.
“Listen.”
Olivia recognized the tune.
Her mother had hummed it when Emma was a baby.
An old lullaby.
“Grandma used to sing that,” Olivia whispered.
Emma nodded.
“I remember.”
Olivia kissed her forehead.
Then noticed something underneath the music box.
A small square of folded paper had been tucked behind the winding mechanism.
She carefully removed it.
A handwritten message appeared.
Your grandmother kept her promises. So did mine.
Olivia stared.
The handwriting wasn't Margaret's.
Underneath was an unfamiliar set of initials.
A.M.
Anthony Moretti.
But Anthony could barely hold a pen now.
Had he written the note years ago?
Or was someone deliberately making it appear that way?
Daniel photographed the message.
Then Olivia noticed a small repair mark along the music box's base.
The wood had been opened and resealed.
“Something's inside,” she said.
Daniel examined it.
“We'll have the detectives inspect it.”
Emma frowned.
“Is my music box bad?”
Olivia knelt.
“No, honey. It isn't bad.”
“Can I keep it?”
Olivia glanced at Daniel.
He gave a small nod.
“We'll preserve it first. If it's safe, she can have it back.”
Emma considered this.
“Okay. But be gentle.”
“I promise,” Olivia said.
She kissed her daughter and guided her back into the living room.
Later that evening, a physician checked Olivia's hand and replaced the bandage.
He confirmed that the wound needed rest but showed no serious infection.
Luca had arranged the visit without demanding anything in return.
When Olivia thanked him by telephone, he sounded uncomfortable.
“Your hand was injured in my house,” he said. “I should have stopped that situation long before tonight.”
She was quiet.
Then she asked the question she'd been carrying all evening.
“Why did you let Vanessa treat me that way?”
Luca didn't immediately answer.
“Because I wasn't paying attention,” he finally said.
“That's not an answer.”
“No,” he admitted. “It isn't enough of one.”
Olivia respected him a little more for not arguing.
The following morning, Olivia went to St. Catherine's with Daniel and Detective Maria Alvarez, the investigator assigned to the case.
The hospital's records supervisor, Elaine Foster, examined the brass key.
“Cabinet 214,” she said slowly.
“That cabinet belonged to our old pediatric charity office.”
Olivia leaned forward.
“Is it still here?”
Elaine hesitated.
“It was transferred into secure archives.”
“Can we see it?”
“With the detective's authorization, yes.”
Twenty minutes later, Elaine escorted them into the hospital's archive room.
Cabinet 214 stood against the far wall.
Its gray metal door was scratched and dented.
Olivia inserted the key.
It turned smoothly.
Inside were several yellowed folders and a narrow wooden box.
The box bore Isabella Moretti's initials.
Olivia opened it.
Inside was a silver rosary, a folded hospital photograph, and a handwritten inventory.
Seven patient files were listed.
Then the eighth.
OLIVIA PARKER — ORIGINAL FUND BENEFICIARY.
But beneath her name was another entry.
EMMA PARKER — FUTURE DEPENDENT BENEFICIARY.
Olivia stared.
“My daughter wasn't even born.”
Detective Alvarez examined the page.
The entry had been added in darker ink.
Much more recently.
She turned the inventory over.
On the back was a stamped date from the previous month.
And a second signature.
AUTHORIZED FOUNDATION ADMINISTRATOR: LUCA MORETTI.
Daniel stiffened.
“Luca never signed this.”
Alvarez studied the document.
“Then someone is impersonating him too.”
Olivia looked at the silver rosary.
One bead was missing.
In its place was a small gold ring engraved with the initials I.M.
She lifted it.
Something tiny had been folded inside the ring.
A strip of paper.
On it were four words.
ASK WHO FUNDED CRESCENT.
Daniel checked the foundation's historical donor records on his tablet.
Then his expression changed.
“Olivia, Crescent Home Care wasn't funded by Bellini Holdings when it began.”
“Who funded it?”
Daniel slowly turned the screen.
The original investor had transferred a substantial amount of money into Crescent before Richard Bellini purchased the company.
It wasn't a corporation.
It was a family trust.
The name at the top made Olivia's breath catch.
ISABELLA MORETTI MEMORIAL TRUST.
May you like
And its current trustee was the last person either of them expected.
LUCA MORETTI.
