Chapter 2 - THE BABY WHO WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO EXIST
“Tell him, Vanessa.”
Mr. Harrison’s voice carried across the dining room, cutting through the silence left by his accusation.
Vanessa Bellini stood beside the overturned champagne glass. Red wine-colored silk clung to her shoulders, but the confidence she had worn all evening had disappeared.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Then I'll ask you myself,” Luca Moretti said.
He stepped between Vanessa and my son.
“Why did you hire Anna Mitchell?”
Vanessa glanced toward the thirty guests watching from the long dining table.
“Luca, please. This is our engagement dinner.”
“Answer me.”
Her expression hardened.
“Because she needed work. Because her references were good. Because I wanted someone reliable.”
“Then why did you offer her three thousand dollars for a broken pocket watch?”
Vanessa's lips parted.
I felt Oliver's small hand tighten around mine.
“Mommy,” he whispered, “are we in trouble?”
I crouched beside him.
“No, sweetheart.”
But I wasn't certain.
Eight months earlier, Vanessa had interviewed me in this very house. She had smiled when I mentioned my grandfather, asked where he was buried, and questioned me about every possession he'd left behind.
I had believed she was being kind.
Now I wondered whether she had been searching for something.
Harrison pushed himself out of his chair.
“Vanessa's mother knew Samuel Bennett.”
Vanessa turned sharply.
“Don't.”
Luca looked at the attorney.
“How?”
“Eleanor Bellini worked in the maternity department at St. Mary's Hospital twenty-six years ago.”
My stomach tightened.
St. Mary's.
The hospital in the photograph.
Harrison continued.
“Your grandmother went there with Samuel Bennett. She was carrying a baby.”
“Whose baby?” Luca demanded.
Harrison looked at me.
Then away.
“That is what Samuel was trying to protect.”
Vanessa slammed her palm against the table.
“Enough! You're making it sound like my mother committed some terrible crime.”
“Did she?” Luca asked.
For a moment, Vanessa looked less like a wealthy bride-to-be and more like a frightened daughter.
“My mother was a nurse. She did what people with money told her to do. That's all.”
Luca's jaw tightened.
“Who told her?”
Vanessa stared at the floor.
“My father.”
The answer startled me.
Vanessa's father, Carlo Bellini, owned several construction companies and had been connected to the Morettis for decades.
He was also the man who had personally recommended Vanessa to Luca three years earlier.
Harrison slowly lowered himself back into his chair.
“Carlo wasn't supposed to be involved in the hospital arrangements.”
“But he was,” Vanessa said bitterly. “Because your family paid him to be.”
Luca went still.
“What arrangements?”
Before Vanessa could answer, Oliver tugged my sleeve.
“Mommy, my chest feels funny.”
Every other sound disappeared.
I knelt immediately.
“Does it hurt?”
He shook his head.
“Just fast.”
I knew that expression.
His cheeks were pale, and his breathing had become shallow.
Too much excitement could aggravate his condition. Fear could make it worse.
I lifted him into my arms.
“Mr. Moretti, I need to take my son home.”
Luca turned toward me.
“What does he need?”
“Quiet. His medication is in my bag.”
“Get it.”
One of the security guards hurried toward the servants' entrance.
I followed him with Oliver against my shoulder.
Vanessa spoke behind us.
“You can't let her leave with that watch.”
I stopped.
Luca turned.
“Excuse me?”
“She could destroy evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
Vanessa looked at Harrison.
He shook his head almost imperceptibly.
That small movement changed everything.
Luca noticed it too.
“You two are still hiding something.”
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
“I was trying to protect my mother.”
“From Anna?”
“From what happened at that hospital.”
I finally reached my handbag.
Oliver sat on a small upholstered bench while I retrieved his prescribed medication and helped him take it according to his doctor's instructions.
His breathing gradually settled.
Luca stood nearby, keeping everyone else back.
It was the first time I had seen the man whom half of Chicago feared look genuinely helpless.
“Is he all right?” he asked.
“He needs rest. And I need to stop frightening him.”
Luca nodded.
“You're right.”
He turned toward the guests.
“Dinner is over. Security will escort everyone to the front sitting room while we sort this out.”
Nobody argued.
But Harrison remained seated.
And Vanessa refused to move.
When the room had emptied, Luca approached me.
“Anna, I owe you an apology.”
I looked up.
“For what?”
“For allowing my house to become somewhere your son was treated like he didn't belong.”
His words surprised me.
“Miss Bellini fired me.”
“She had no authority to humiliate your child.”
I swallowed.
“Does that mean I still have a job?”
Luca looked pained.
“You shouldn't have to ask that after tonight.”
Oliver leaned against me.
“Mommy, can I have my watch?”
Luca carefully returned it.
“Of course, buddy.”
My son closed his fingers around the gold case.
Then Luca turned back toward Harrison.
“Start with my grandmother.”
The attorney removed his glasses.
“Your grandmother, Amelia Moretti, discovered something your father had been hiding.”
“What?”
“Another child.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Luca said nothing.
Harrison continued.
“Your father had a relationship with a young woman who worked in the family household. When she became pregnant, he refused to acknowledge her.”
I felt a strange coldness spreading through my chest.
“What happened to her?” I asked.
Harrison studied me.
“She was sent away.”
“And the baby?” Luca demanded.
“Your grandmother learned about the child years later. She arranged to bring the little girl to Chicago.”
“A girl?” Luca whispered.
Harrison nodded.
“She intended to make your father recognize his daughter.”
I looked down at the watch.
The baby in the photograph.
A little girl.
Twenty-six years ago.
Luca looked toward me.
“How old did you say you were, Anna?”
“Twenty-five.”
“And your birthday?”
“November eighteenth.”
He turned toward Harrison.
The attorney closed his eyes.
“What?” I demanded.
Nobody answered.
“What does my birthday have to do with this?”
Harrison finally spoke.
“Samuel Bennett wasn't your biological grandfather, Anna.”
I stared at him.
“No.”
“He loved you. He raised you. But he wasn't related to you by blood.”
I stepped backward.
“You're lying.”
My grandfather had taught me to ride a bicycle.
He had sat through every school concert.
He had worked overtime to buy me winter boots.
He had held me when my mother died.
“He was my grandfather.”
Harrison nodded sadly.
“In every way that mattered.”
Luca looked at the watch.
“Who was the baby?”
Harrison's voice trembled.
“Amelia called her Rose.”
My heart lurched.
Rose.
My mother's name.
I had never told Luca that.
I barely managed to whisper.
“My mother was Rose Mitchell.”
Harrison covered his mouth.
Luca looked between us.
Then he spoke the words that changed my life.
“Anna, if Rose was that baby, your mother was my father's daughter.”
I shook my head.
It made no sense.
My grandfather had never mentioned the Morettis.
He had spent his life avoiding Chicago.
Luca stepped closer.
“That would make Rose my half-sister.”
He looked at Oliver.
Then at me.
“And you would be my niece.”
For the first time since entering the room, Luca looked frightened.
Not of an enemy.
Not of violence.
Of what his own family might have done.
Vanessa suddenly spoke.
“You're all making one terrible mistake.”
Luca turned.
“What mistake?”
She looked directly at me.
“Rose wasn't the only baby brought to St. Mary's.”
Harrison rose so suddenly his chair scraped across the floor.
“Vanessa, don't.”
But she continued.
“There were two babies that night.”
Luca's voice hardened.
“Two?”
Vanessa nodded, tears sliding down her cheeks.
“One was Rose Bennett.”
She looked toward Oliver.
“And the other was a Moretti boy.”
Harrison whispered, “You promised your mother you would never say that.”
Vanessa ignored him.
She stared at Luca.
“The boy was supposed to disappear. But he didn't.”
Luca took one slow step forward.
“Where is he?”
Vanessa's expression crumpled.
“That's what my father sent me here to find out.”
Then she pointed toward the photograph still lying on the table.
“Because the baby in your grandmother's arms wasn't Anna's mother.”
May you like
She swallowed.
“It was your brother, Luca. And your father ordered everyone to believe he had died.”
