Chapter 5 - THE BOY THEY NEVER COUNTED
I stared at the name sewn into the coat.
Daniel Collins.
My younger brother.
The same boy who used to leave toy cars in the hallway.
The same boy who'd cried when Grandma died because he thought losing her meant losing our home.
The same young man who now attended rehabilitation appointments three times a week after a highway accident had left him with a serious leg injury.
“What little boy?” I asked.
Samuel remained silent.
I felt my patience breaking.
“Please stop protecting me from answers.”
Luca stood beside me.
“She's right.”
Samuel looked at the coat.
“Rebecca wasn't alone when Margaret helped her leave Saint Agnes. There was an infant boy.”
My chest tightened.
“Daniel?”
“I don't know what name Margaret gave him.”
I looked at the old photographs.
Grandma had always told us Daniel was my biological brother.
That our parents had died in a car accident when I was eight and he was five.
I remembered the funeral.
I remembered holding his hand.
I remembered Grandma telling us we'd stay together.
Those memories were real.
But this coat suggested there might be more to the story.
“Daniel was five when our parents died,” I said.
Samuel nodded.
“Then perhaps I'm mistaken.”
He sounded relieved.
Too relieved.
I studied him.
“Why do you keep doing that?”
“What?”
“Giving me half an answer and then hoping I'll stop asking.”
His face tightened.
“Because every answer I've given tonight has hurt someone.”
I looked at Luca.
“Can you arrange for me to speak with Daniel?”
“Of course.”
I called my brother.
He answered after four rings.
“Hey, Rach.”
His voice was sleepy.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yeah. Why?”
“I found some of Grandma's old things.”
A pause.
“The brown suitcase?”
I froze.
“You knew about it?”
“Sure. Grandma used to keep it under her bed.”
“Did she ever tell you what was inside?”
“No.”
Then he hesitated.
“Actually, she gave me something from it once.”
“What?”
“A picture.”
My heart began pounding.
“Of whom?”
“A little girl holding a balloon.”
I looked at Luca.
The same photograph.
“Daniel, do you still have it?”
“Maybe. It's in my old scrapbook.”
“Why did Grandma give it to you?”
He was quiet for several seconds.
“She said if I ever felt like nobody wanted me, I should look at it and remember somebody had fought very hard to keep me safe.”
I pressed my hand against my mouth.
“Did she tell you who the girl was?”
“No.”
Then he added, “Rach, are you crying?”
I swallowed.
“Just tired.”
“Come home soon, okay?”
“I will.”
After I ended the call, the apartment seemed unbearably quiet.
Samuel watched me.
“Margaret was a good woman.”
“She was,” I said. “And I'm beginning to think she spent her life carrying burdens nobody thanked her for.”
Luca nodded slowly.
“Then we need to find out what happened without turning Daniel's life upside down.”
I appreciated that.
But I couldn't ignore the terrible possibility growing inside me.
Perhaps Daniel wasn't my biological brother.
Perhaps Grandma had protected him for reasons she'd never explained.
And perhaps Isabella had been involved.
Luca examined the photographs again.
“Edward Hale appears in several of these.”
Samuel nodded.
“He handled the Moretti family's financial records.”
“Then he may have known who stole the money.”
“He did.”
Luca stared.
“You knew that?”
Samuel rubbed his hands together.
“Edward found evidence of the forged transfers. He wanted to expose them.”
“Why didn't he?”
“Because someone threatened the children.”
I looked sharply at him.
“Which children?”
Samuel glanced toward the blue coat.
My stomach turned.
Luca took a measured breath.
“Professor, no more riddles.”
Samuel nodded.
“Rebecca's existence threatened Carlo Bellini's reputation and inheritance arrangements. But the boy was connected to a different secret.”
“What secret?”
“Edward knew that someone had been moving money through charitable trusts created in the names of missing children.”
Luca frowned.
“Charitable trusts?”
“Yes. Legitimate foundations on paper. Fraudulent transfers behind them.”
The pieces began connecting.
Children whose names appeared in records.
Money hidden beneath respectable organizations.
Families who couldn't safely ask questions.
I remembered Grandma's refusal to accept help.
Perhaps she had known every dollar might carry a price.
“Was Daniel's name used?” I asked.
Samuel shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Luca looked at Anthony's message on his phone.
“The Bellini companies controlled several charitable accounts,” he said. “Anthony has identified payments to Saint Agnes Family Services.”
Samuel stiffened.
“That's where Margaret worked.”
“Exactly.”
A new possibility opened.
The church hadn't simply been a hiding place.
It may have been part of the financial trail.
Luca looked toward me.
“I want an independent forensic accountant to examine the records. Someone outside the family's usual advisers.”
“Good,” I said.
He gave a tired smile.
“My grandfather taught me that when money disappears, the first person you question is the person who insists nothing is wrong.”
Samuel looked away.
Something about that reaction bothered me.
Before I could ask why, my phone vibrated.
A message from Daniel.
It contained a photograph.
He'd found the picture Grandma gave him.
It showed Rebecca holding her red balloon.
But this version hadn't been cropped.
Beside Rebecca stood another child.
A boy of about four.
Dark hair.
A serious expression.
His hand wrapped around Rebecca's.
Behind them stood Isabella.
And on the back, visible because Daniel had photographed both sides, was a handwritten sentence.
Keep them together. They have already lost enough.
I stared at the boy.
He looked familiar.
Not because I recognized his childhood face.
Because he had Daniel's eyes.
Samuel lowered himself into a chair.
Luca examined the image.
“Rachel, this doesn't prove anything about your brother's parentage.”
“I know.”
But my voice sounded distant.
I called Daniel again.
“Do you remember anything about Saint Agnes?”
“No.”
“About a woman named Isabella?”
A pause.
Then he said something that made my heart stop.
“Was she the lady who played the piano?”
I gripped the counter.
“What lady?”
“The one Grandma said we weren't supposed to talk about.”
Luca moved closer.
Daniel continued.
“She used to visit when we were little. She had dark hair. She'd play that funny song on Grandma's music box.”
I could barely breathe.
“Did she ever say anything to you?”
“Yeah.”
“What?”
“She used to call me her brave little man.”
I closed my eyes.
Then Daniel added, “Rach, why are you asking about her? Did somebody finally find her?”
I stared at the phone.
“Finally?”
“Grandma told me something before she died.”
My voice shook.
“What?”
Daniel hesitated.
“She said if I ever met Luca Moretti, I should give him the envelope she hid inside my old walking cane.”
Luca looked sharply at me.
“Daniel has a cane?”
“He used one after his accident.”
“Where is it?”
“At my place,” Daniel answered. “Why?”
I swallowed.
“Please don't open anything yet.”
But Daniel was already moving.
I heard a drawer slide.
Then his voice returned.
“Rach, there's something inside.”
Paper rustled.
A long silence followed.
“Daniel?”
He didn't answer.
“Daniel, talk to me.”
May you like
Finally, he whispered:
“Rachel... why does this letter say Luca Moretti is my guardian?”
