Chapter 2 - THE MAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO PROTECT HIM
“Uncle Michael said Daddy wasn't supposed to find out until tomorrow.”
Noah's little hands stopped moving.
I looked toward the hallway where Michael Moretti had disappeared.
For eleven months, I'd watched Luca's younger brother carry Noah on his shoulders, bring him birthday presents, and sit beside him during family dinners.
Michael had always seemed like the one person who could make Luca laugh.
Now an eight-year-old boy was telling me that his uncle knew someone planned to take him away.
I wanted Noah to be mistaken.
More than anything, I wanted him to be mistaken.
“Ella?”
Luca was watching me.
“What did my son say?”
I looked at Noah. His fingers tightened around my sleeve.
I couldn't betray his trust.
But keeping quiet would be worse.
“He said Mr. Michael knew about tonight.”
Luca's expression changed.
“Michael?”
Noah nodded.
Claudia immediately stood.
“This is ridiculous. Michael helped me arrange an educational visit. That's all.”
“Sit down,” Luca said.
“Luca, these people are our guests.”
“And Noah is my son.”
His voice never rose.
Somehow, that made the room even quieter.
Daniel approached from the service entrance.
“The driver has identification, sir. His name is Peter Walsh. He says he works for a transportation company contracted by Whitmore Family Services.”
Claudia closed her eyes.
Luca noticed.
“Whitmore Family Services?”
“A private educational placement agency,” she replied.
“Owned by your family?”
“My father sits on the board.”
Luca looked at Daniel.
“Find Michael.”
Daniel hesitated.
“Sir, his car is still outside, but nobody has seen him.”
That was when Mrs. Ramirez spoke.
“He went toward the old study.”
Luca turned.
“Ella, stay with Noah.”
I nodded.
But Noah suddenly pulled my hand.
Daddy can't go alone.
I signed back.
Why?
His eyes filled.
Uncle Michael was crying.
That stopped me.
“Mr. Moretti.”
Luca paused in the doorway.
“Noah says Michael was crying.”
For the first time that evening, anger gave way to something harder to read.
“Crying?”
“He says your brother was upset.”
Claudia pushed her chair back.
“Because Michael understands how impossible this household has become!”
Everyone looked at her.
She swallowed.
“You're never here, Luca. Noah needs structure. Professional care. Something better than spending every afternoon following a housekeeper around.”
I felt the insult.
But Luca didn't look at me.
He looked at Noah.
His son had stopped eating.
There was a full plate in front of him, and his little shoulders were drawn up as if he expected someone to shout.
Luca knelt beside him.
Do you want to go to another school?
Noah shook his head.
I want to stay home.
Luca's jaw tightened.
Then you stay home.
Noah studied his father's face.
Even if Claudia says I'm bad?
Luca looked toward his fiancée.
“What exactly have you been telling him?”
Claudia pressed her fingers against her temples.
“I have been trying to help a child whose needs you refuse to acknowledge.”
“My son isn't a problem to be solved.”
“Then why do you keep hiring people to fix him?”
The words landed hard.
I watched Luca glance toward the specialists seated among the guests.
And suddenly I understood something.
This wasn't the first time Claudia had criticized Noah's signing.
It was simply the first time she'd done it in front of his father.
Luca stood.
“Daniel, ask our guests to leave. Quietly.”
Within minutes, chairs began scraping across the marble.
Nobody wanted to be the last person in that room.
Claudia's father, Richard Whitmore, approached Luca.
“Think carefully before you make a spectacle of this.”
Luca faced him.
“Your daughter's arrangement almost removed my son from his home without my knowledge.”
Richard's expression remained controlled.
“Perhaps there are matters you don't fully understand.”
“Then enlighten me.”
“Not tonight.”
Richard walked away.
I noticed Claudia watching him with a strange mixture of anger and fear.
She hadn't expected her father to abandon her.
And she hadn't expected Luca to notice.
When the last guest disappeared, Luca approached me.
“Ella, take Noah upstairs.”
The boy grabbed my apron.
No.
I translated.
“He doesn't want to be alone.”
Luca crouched.
I'll come with you.
Noah hesitated.
Then he nodded.
We started toward the stairs when Daniel returned carrying a small navy suitcase.
It was Noah's.
I recognized the yellow rocket sticker on the handle.
Mrs. Ramirez covered her mouth.
Inside were Noah's favorite pajamas, his blue blanket, and the photograph of his late mother that usually stood beside his bed.
Someone had packed his entire little world into one suitcase.
Luca opened the front pocket.
He removed a folded sheet of paper.
At the top was a printed heading:
TEMPORARY RESIDENTIAL TRANSFER AUTHORIZATION.
Below it was Noah's full name.
And beneath that, in dark blue ink, was a signature.
Luca Moretti.
I watched his face.
He stared at the document for several seconds.
“I never signed this.”
Claudia reached for the paper.
“It's an administrative form.”
Luca moved it away.
“This is my signature.”
“Michael handled the arrangements,” she said quickly.
“Why would Michael sign my name?”
She didn't answer.
Then Noah touched my hand.
His fingers moved slowly.
Uncle Michael has Daddy's pen.
I looked at Luca.
“He says Michael has your pen.”
Luca glanced toward his jacket.
His right hand moved automatically to the inside pocket.
A silver fountain pen was missing.
He had once told me it belonged to his father.
Michael borrowed it occasionally, but Luca never allowed anyone else to use it.
Luca handed Noah's suitcase to Daniel.
“Stay here.”
This time, I followed him.
“Ella,” he warned.
“Mr. Moretti, Noah is frightened. If Michael has been talking to him, I may be able to understand what happened.”
Luca considered that.
Then he nodded.
We reached the old study.
The door was partly open.
Michael stood beside the fireplace.
His expensive gray suit was wrinkled.
In one hand, he held Luca's silver pen.
In the other was a photograph.
He didn't appear surprised to see us.
“Where's Noah?” he asked.
“Safe,” Luca replied. “No thanks to you.”
Michael looked down.
Luca placed the authorization form on the desk.
“Did you sign my name?”
Michael's answer was barely audible.
“Yes.”
I expected Luca to explode.
Instead, he pulled out a chair.
“Sit down.”
Michael remained standing.
“Luca, I was trying to prevent something worse.”
“Worse than stealing my son?”
Michael's face twisted.
“You think Claudia invented this?”
Luca went still.
Michael raised the photograph.
It showed Noah's mother, Sofia, standing beside Luca and Michael in the mansion garden.
Noah was a baby in her arms.
Across the bottom, someone had written a date.
Michael turned the photograph over.
There was a message in Sofia's handwriting.
Promise me he'll never be sent away because he cannot hear.
Luca stared.
“Where did you get that?”
Michael's hand trembled.
“She gave it to me before she died.”
“Why?”
Michael looked toward the hallway.
Then he whispered something that made my blood run cold.
“Because, Luca, someone in this family tried to send Noah away once before.”
May you like
And when Luca demanded to know who, Michael answered:
“Our father.”
