Chapter 3 - THE NAME IN THE HOSPITAL LEDGER
“My mother's name?”
Luca looked from Richard to Teresa.
For the first time since I'd known him, the man who controlled half the city's waterfront seemed uncertain where to put his hands.
Richard released a slow breath.
“Her name appears beside Anna's placement.”
Teresa shook her head.
“I never signed anything.”
Eleanor stood with one hand braced against the table.
“You don't remember everything, Teresa.”
“Don't say that again,” Luca warned.
Teresa reached for her son's sleeve.
“Luca, I remember the day Anna disappeared. I remember the yellow dress she wore. I remember the strawberry jam on her fingers.”
She looked toward Eleanor.
“And I remember you telling me she was never coming back.”
Eleanor said nothing.
Luca turned to Richard.
“Show me the ledger.”
“I don't have it.”
“Then take me where it is.”
Richard hesitated.
“The building belongs to the Bellini Medical Trust. It's been closed for years.”
“Then somebody can open it.”
Eleanor stepped forward.
“You're making a terrible mistake.”
Luca faced her.
“Maybe. But this time it'll be my mistake.”
He instructed his longtime security chief, Marco, to bring the car around.
Vanessa caught his arm.
“Please don't go there tonight.”
He gently removed her hand.
“Do you know what's in that room?”
“No.”
“Then why are you afraid of it?”
Vanessa glanced at her mother.
“Because everything Anna said about our family might be true.”
That admission silenced us.
Luca looked at me.
“Claire, would you stay with my mother?”
Before I could answer, Teresa shook her head.
“I'm going.”
“Mom, it's late.”
“I've waited thirty-eight years.”
Her voice strengthened.
“I won't wait another night.”
Helena approached the wheelchair.
“Mrs. Moretti can travel if she's comfortable, but she should be allowed to rest if she becomes tired.”
Luca nodded.
“Then we'll go together.”
Vanessa reached for her coat.
“I'm coming too.”
Luca studied her for a long moment.
“Not until you tell me what happened at the airport.”
Vanessa looked down.
“I met Anna in the arrivals hall. She had a blue coat and a brown leather bag. She asked whether your mother was well.”
“Did you tell her?”
“I said Teresa's memory had deteriorated.”
“And?”
Vanessa wiped her cheek.
“I told her any further contact might hurt her.”
Teresa closed her eyes.
Luca's voice lowered.
“Anna came all the way to Chicago to see her mother, and you sent her away?”
“I thought she was trying to use Teresa!”
“Did you have any proof?”
Vanessa didn't answer.
Richard looked toward his sister.
“Tell him about Emma.”
Vanessa's head snapped up.
“Richard.”
Luca went still.
“What about Emma?”
Vanessa whispered, “She was with Anna.”
Teresa pressed the photograph against her chest.
“My granddaughter came here?”
Vanessa nodded.
“Emma was waiting near the baggage claim. She was holding a paper bag from a bakery.”
Luca swallowed.
“And you turned both of them away.”
Vanessa's tears fell freely.
“Yes.”
Something in the room seemed to break.
Luca stepped back.
“Take off your ring.”
Vanessa stared at him.
“What?”
“Take it off.”
Her hand went instinctively to the diamond he'd given her.
“Luca, please. The wedding is Saturday.”
“There won't be a wedding on Saturday.”
Vanessa's face crumpled.
But she slowly removed the ring and placed it beside the untouched engagement cake.
Luca didn't reach for it.
Instead, he turned toward his mother.
“Let's find Anna.”
Twenty-five minutes later, we arrived at the abandoned St. Agnes maternity hospital on Chicago's West Side.
The redbrick building stood behind a rusted iron fence.
Its windows were dark.
Old ivy crawled across the entrance.
Richard used a security code to open the side gate.
Inside, the air smelled of dust and old plaster.
Marco checked the corridor ahead while Luca guided Teresa's wheelchair over the uneven floor.
I carried her blanket.
Eleanor had refused to come.
Vanessa, however, had insisted on accompanying us, and Luca had allowed it.
Richard led us down a hallway lined with faded photographs of former hospital directors.
Near the end stood a heavy wooden door.
A brass plate read:
PRIVATE MATERNITY ARCHIVE.
Luca held up the key.
It fit.
The lock resisted for a moment.
Then turned.
Inside were steel cabinets, wooden shelves, and an enormous oak table.
Richard switched on the emergency lighting.
One fluorescent fixture flickered overhead.
“Which ledger?” Luca asked.
Richard pointed toward a locked metal cabinet.
“Third shelf. Brown leather binding.”
Marco opened the cabinet using a key Richard supplied.
Inside were dozens of numbered books.
Luca pulled out the volume marked 1987–1989.
He laid it on the table.
My heart hammered as he opened it.
Page after page contained names, dates, and handwritten references.
Some entries had been crossed out.
Others carried initials beside payment amounts.
Then Luca stopped.
“July 22, 1988.”
Teresa's breathing became shallow.
Beside the date was a child's name.
ANNA MARIA MORETTI.
Underneath appeared a new name.
ANNA MARIA HALE.
There was an address in Massachusetts.
A placement number.
And two signatures.
TERESA MORETTI.
ELEANOR BELLINI.
Luca stared at his mother's name.
“Mom?”
Teresa looked at the page.
Her hands began trembling.
“I didn't write that.”
Vanessa leaned closer.
“How can you be sure?”
Teresa pointed to the final letter.
“Because I always made the second 't' in Moretti taller than the first. Giovanni used to tease me about it.”
I studied the signature.
Both letters were identical.
Richard leaned over the table.
“There's something else.”
He pointed to a small notation beneath Eleanor's signature.
AUTHORIZED BY G.M.
Luca's expression hardened.
“My father's initials.”
Richard nodded.
But Teresa suddenly spoke.
“No.”
We all turned.
“My husband's middle name was Antonio.”
Luca frowned.
“I know.”
“Then look at the hospital director.”
Richard checked the first page.
The name printed beneath the hospital seal was:
GERALD M. BELLINI.
Eleanor's late husband.
Vanessa's father.
Richard slowly lowered himself into a chair.
“Oh, God.”
The initials weren't Giovanni's.
They belonged to Eleanor's husband.
And the register made it appear that Teresa had consented.
Luca's voice was dangerously quiet.
“My mother was made to sign away her daughter.”
Teresa shook her head.
“I never did.”
“I believe you, Mom.”
He touched her shoulder.
“I believe you.”
I turned the page carefully.
Several later entries referenced the same placement number.
One was dated February 2020.
Six weeks before Giovanni died.
A note had been attached with a paper clip.
It was a photocopy of a handwritten message.
I recognized the handwriting immediately.
I'd seen it on Giovanni's framed letters in Luca's study.
Anna has agreed to meet. Eleanor knows I have the original records. If I cannot return, the answer is with the person who kept the blue coat.
Beneath those words was an address in Boston.
And a name.
MARGARET HALE.
Richard stared at it.
“That was Anna's adoptive mother.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“Margaret died years ago.”
Luca looked at the photograph.
Anna's pale blue coat hung open over a bakery apron.
For a moment, hope flickered across his face.
Then I noticed another sheet tucked behind Giovanni's message.
It was a hospital visitor authorization.
Dated March 9, 2020.
Two names appeared beneath the printed heading.
GIOVANNI MORETTI.
VANESSA BELLINI.
I looked at Luca.
“Sir.”
He turned.
I handed him the sheet.
Vanessa saw it.
Her expression changed instantly.
Luca read the names.
Then looked up.
“You told me you never met my father privately before we started dating.”
Vanessa stepped backward.
“I can explain.”
He held the paper higher.
“You were here with him six years ago.”
She shook her head.
“Luca, please.”
He moved closer.
“What happened that day?”
Vanessa's voice cracked.
“Your father found out something about Anna's adoption.”
“What?”
She looked toward Richard.
May you like
Then whispered:
“He found out why my mother chose Anna. She wasn't the child they originally came to take.”
