Chapter 7 - THE WOMAN IN THE RED DRESS
Vanessa stared at her own signature.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then she whispered, “I remember that day.”
Luca stepped back from the desk.
“You witnessed Margaret Bennett transferring control of her trust?”
Vanessa's face had lost all color.
“I didn't know it was hers.”
I felt something inside me harden.
“You signed a document with my mother's full name on it.”
“I was working in my father's office. He asked me to witness several signatures.”
“Did you see my mother sign?”
Vanessa looked down.
“No.”
The room became silent.
Luca's expression changed.
“You witnessed a signature you didn't observe?”
Vanessa nodded.
“I was twenty-nine. I'd just started working with him. He said the signatures were already verified.”
“That doesn't excuse it,” Luca said.
“I know.”
I looked at the elegant red gown she was still wearing from the previous evening.
At the diamond bracelet on her wrist.
At the woman who had humiliated Elizabeth for holding an old handbag.
“You told Mrs. Moretti she didn't need her own money,” I said. “And you helped put my mother's money under someone else's control.”
Vanessa covered her mouth.
“I didn't know what it meant.”
“Neither did they.”
She looked at me.
And for once, she had no answer.
Luca shut the laptop.
“Where is the trust money now?”
Anthony examined the latest available statement.
“The last reported balance was just over six hundred thousand dollars.”
My knees weakened.
Six hundred thousand.
My mother could have paid for rehabilitation.
She could have hired the care she needed without worrying whether my next paycheck arrived on time.
I could have finished the nursing degree I'd abandoned when she became ill.
Instead, we'd spent years frightened of every envelope in the mailbox.
Luca reached for the chair beside me.
“Claire, sit down.”
I shook my head.
“I don't want to sit.”
He lowered his hand.
“All right.”
I looked at Vanessa.
“Call your father.”
She hesitated.
“Claire—”
“Please.”
Her eyes filled.
Then she took out her phone and placed the call on speaker.
Her father answered after several rings.
“Vanessa, darling. I'm in a meeting.”
“Dad, I'm with Luca.”
A pause.
“And?”
“We're looking at the Bennett trust.”
Silence.
Then a different voice emerged.
“Who gave you access to those records?”
Luca spoke.
“Charles, where is the money?”
Charles Bellini sighed.
“Luca, I suggest we discuss this privately.”
“We are discussing it.”
“This isn't a matter for household staff.”
I looked toward Vanessa.
Her face changed.
“Dad,” she said sharply, “Claire Bennett is a beneficiary.”
Another pause.
“I know who she is.”
Those five words chilled me.
Luca leaned closer to the phone.
“Then you know why we're asking.”
Charles sounded irritated.
“The funds are invested. They're not sitting in a checking account.”
“Where are they invested?”
“In several properties.”
“Pier Nine?”
No answer.
Vanessa gripped the phone.
“Dad?”
Finally, Charles spoke.
“Some of the capital supported that project.”
I felt the air leave my lungs.
He had used my mother's money.
Money meant to compensate my grandfather.
To buy the very property where my grandfather had been injured.
Luca's voice remained calm.
“Do not move another dollar.”
Charles laughed.
“I'm not taking financial instructions from you.”
“Then consider this notice that we'll be seeking an accounting and challenging the transactions.”
The call ended.
Vanessa stared at the dark screen.
“My father has never spoken to me like that.”
Luca looked at her.
“Perhaps you've never asked him a question he couldn't control.”
She sat down.
For the first time, I saw something beneath her arrogance.
Fear.
Not fear of Luca.
Fear of realizing the person she'd trusted most had used her loyalty.
But sympathy couldn't erase the past eleven months.
Vanessa looked toward me.
“Claire, I owe you more than an apology.”
“Yes,” I said. “You do.”
She nodded.
Then she unclasped the diamond bracelet from her wrist.
“My father gave me this when I joined the foundation.”
She placed it on the table.
“He told me it came from investment profits.”
Anthony looked at the bracelet.
A tiny engraved plate sat beneath the clasp.
He leaned closer.
“Vanessa, may I see that?”
She handed it to him.
He turned it over.
“Pier Nine Foundation. 2023.”
His expression changed.
“That's the year the scholarship trust made its largest transfer.”
Vanessa stared at the bracelet.
“I thought it was a gift.”
Anthony shook his head.
“Your father may have been using the foundation to pay for personal expenses.”
Luca looked toward Marco.
“Preserve the records of that transaction too.”
Vanessa slowly pushed the bracelet away.
“I don't want it.”
I looked at the diamonds.
A few hours earlier, I might have resented how easily she could discard something worth more than my annual salary.
Now I understood that she was finally seeing it differently.
It wasn't proof of her father's love.
It might be evidence of what he'd taken.
Elizabeth entered the library carrying her old handbag.
She approached Vanessa.
“My dear,” she said quietly, “you were cruel to me.”
Vanessa began crying.
“I know.”
“And to Claire.”
“I know.”
Elizabeth's voice remained steady.
“Your father may have taught you that money is how people prove their importance. But you're old enough to choose differently.”
Vanessa covered her face.
Luca looked toward the window.
He appeared older than he had two days earlier.
Then Elizabeth placed a folded paper on the desk.
“There's something else.”
Luca looked at her.
“What is it, Mom?”
“I found it beneath the photograph in Giovanni's envelope.”
It was a copy of an insurance settlement schedule.
Four names appeared on the page.
Daniel Walsh.
Peter Collins.
Samuel Reed.
Thomas Gallagher.
Beside each name was a promised payment.
But one line had been crossed out in red.
Daniel Walsh — settlement deferred.
Underneath, in Giovanni's handwriting, was another sentence.
Do not release the Pier Nine property until Margaret has been paid in full.
Luca stared at the words.
“Dad placed a restriction on the property?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“He said it was the only way to make sure he kept his promise.”
Anthony leaned closer.
“If that restriction was recorded, Charles couldn't legally sell the property free of it.”
Luca looked at the redevelopment agreement.
“And if it wasn't recorded?”
Anthony's face darkened.
“Then someone may have deliberately kept it out of the public documents.”
I examined the paper.
A small symbol appeared in the bottom corner.
A rose.
The same rose engraved on Elizabeth's handbag clasp.
Elizabeth saw me looking.
And suddenly she gasped.
“Claire.”
I turned.
“What?”
She gripped the old purse.
“Giovanni gave me this handbag the year he created the property restriction.”
Luca looked at the clasp.
Elizabeth pressed the brass rose.
A tiny metal panel slid aside.
Inside was a narrow strip of yellowed paper.
It contained a recording number from the Cook County Recorder's Office.
Anthony read it aloud.
Then he went very still.
“Luca.”
“What?”
“This isn't an ordinary document number.”
May you like
He swallowed.
“It's the registration number for a deed restriction that should still control Pier Nine.”
