Chapter 3 - THE SIGNATURE THAT DESTROYED TWO FAMILIES
"Then who wrote it?"
My question echoed through the hospital corridor.
Luca Moretti stood motionless, holding the document that had helped destroy my husband's life.
"I don't know," he said.
I looked straight into his eyes.
"That's not good enough."
"Delilah, I signed the dismissal. I did not authorize anyone to hurt Thomas."
"But you knew someone wanted him silenced."
Luca swallowed.
"I knew my father wanted him gone."
There was a terrible difference between those two statements.
And neither brought my husband back.
Dominic shifted uncomfortably.
"Mr. Moretti, we should discuss this somewhere private."
"No," Luca said.
He handed the document back.
"Give the original to the detectives. Tell them everything."
Dominic hesitated.
"Everything, sir?"
Luca looked at him.
"Did I stutter?"
For the first time that night, I saw fear cross Dominic's face.
Not fear of Luca.
Fear of what the documents might reveal.
Detective Marisol Vega arrived twenty minutes later.
She was a woman in her late forties, with dark hair pulled into a low ponytail and the exhausted expression of someone who had spent years listening to powerful people lie.
She didn't seem impressed by Luca's expensive suit or his reputation.
"I understand there's a missing financial ledger, a possible attempted drowning, and allegations involving two deaths."
Luca nodded.
"Yes."
"And you've already instructed your employees to preserve the evidence?"
"Yes."
"Good. Then let me do my job."
She turned toward me.
"Mrs. Moore, I'd like your statement first."
I told her everything.
Vanessa forbidding anyone to help Eleanor.
The freezing pool.
The whispered warning about the black ledger.
Eleanor's accusation about the medication.
And the terrible discovery concerning Thomas.
Detective Vega wrote carefully.
When I finished, she asked, "What do you remember about your husband's accident?"
I looked down at my hands.
"It happened on a Thursday night in November. He was supposed to be home by eight."
"Was he driving a Moretti vehicle?"
"No. His own car."
"Where was he going?"
"He never told me."
"Had he seemed afraid?"
I hesitated.
Then I remembered something I'd tried not to think about for six years.
Three days before he died, Thomas had come home carrying Marcus, who was five years old.
He'd hugged our boy for so long that Marcus started laughing.
"Daddy, you're squishing me."
Thomas had smiled.
But later that night, I'd found him sitting at the kitchen table, turning his old wristwatch over and over.
I'd asked what was wrong.
He'd said, "If anything ever happens, don't let anyone tell Marcus his daddy was dishonest."
At the time, I thought he was worried about losing his job.
Now I understood.
"He said something about being blamed for things he hadn't done," I told Vega.
"Do you still have that watch?"
"Yes."
"Keep it safe. I'd also like to see any letters, work papers, or personal belongings from that period."
I nodded.
Across the corridor, Luca stood listening.
His expression grew darker with every word.
When the detective questioned Luca, he didn't avoid the truth.
He admitted his father had accused Thomas of accessing restricted financial records.
He admitted signing the termination notice.
He admitted refusing to hear Thomas's explanation.
"Why?" Vega asked.
Luca rubbed his forehead.
"I was thirty-five. My father had built the company, and I believed he knew the people around him better than I did."
"You run a powerful organization, Mr. Moretti."
"I do."
"Then you understand the danger of making decisions without asking questions."
Luca looked toward me.
"Better tonight than I did six years ago."
For a moment, I hated how sincere he sounded.
It would have been easier if he were cruel.
Cruel men were simple to understand.
Men who made terrible mistakes and regretted them were harder.
Because regret didn't change what happened.
Near midnight, the doctor returned.
Eleanor was stable.
She had inhaled some pool water, but her oxygen levels were improving with treatment.
The medical team planned to monitor her lungs overnight.
Her doctor had also agreed to review her medications.
"The patient appears to have been taking a sedative that may contribute to confusion, weakness, and impaired balance," he explained.
Luca frowned.
"Who prescribed it?"
"We're checking the pharmacy records."
"Her regular physician didn't?"
"Not according to the medication list we received."
I saw Luca's hands tighten.
For six months, Vanessa had described Eleanor as forgetful.
For six months, Luca had believed her.
Now the woman he'd planned to marry might have been responsible for the very symptoms she used to discredit his mother.
Detective Vega wrote something in her notebook.
Then she said, "I'd like to speak with Miss Bellini again."
Vanessa had been brought to the hospital separately after giving an initial statement at the estate.
She sat in a private waiting room wearing her champagne gown.
Someone had draped a dark coat over her shoulders.
Her mascara had dried in gray streaks beneath her eyes.
When she saw Luca, she stood.
"Darling, please. This has gone far enough."
Luca remained by the doorway.
"My mother nearly drowned."
"She slipped."
"You ordered forty people not to help her."
Vanessa looked toward Vega.
"People misunderstood me."
I couldn't remain silent.
"I heard every word."
Vanessa's expression changed.
"Of course you did. You've been waiting for a chance to turn him against me."
I stepped forward.
"My husband is dead. Your father may know why. Don't stand there and pretend this is about jealousy."
For a second, something like shame crossed Vanessa's face.
Then she looked away.
Detective Vega placed a photograph on the table.
It showed the private clinic from the envelope.
Vanessa standing beside Giorgio Moretti.
"Can you explain this?"
Vanessa stared at it.
"Mr. Moretti wasn't feeling well."
"Why were you there?"
"My father asked me to bring him."
Luca spoke quietly.
"You told me you first met my father at a charity dinner."
"I didn't know how to explain our families' history."
"You told me you met me by accident three years ago."
Vanessa said nothing.
Luca stepped back.
"You knew who I was long before we met."
"That doesn't mean I didn't fall in love with you."
For the first time, her voice sounded genuinely frightened.
"I did love you, Luca."
He studied her.
"Then why did you spend six months convincing me my mother was losing her mind?"
Vanessa pressed her lips together.
And said nothing.
Detective Vega received a copy of Thomas's original accident file shortly before one in the morning.
I sat outside Eleanor's room while she read.
Luca waited beside the vending machines.
The hospital had grown quiet.
Somewhere down the hallway, a floor buffer hummed.
Then Vega stopped turning pages.
"Mrs. Moore."
Something in her voice made me stand.
"Yes?"
"Did anyone from the Bellini family contact you after your husband's death?"
"No."
"Did you ever meet Vanessa before tonight?"
"I'd seen her at the estate. That's all."
Vega looked at Luca.
"When did you and Miss Bellini become engaged?"
"Four months ago."
"And when did you meet?"
"Three years ago."
The detective slowly closed the file.
"That's interesting."
"Why?" Luca asked.
Vega turned the accident report toward us.
It contained the weather conditions.
The location.
The time emergency services arrived.
And a witness statement.
I read the name at the bottom.
My knees almost gave way.
Vanessa Bellini.
Six years earlier.
A full three years before she claimed to have met Luca.
Detective Vega looked toward the waiting room where Vanessa sat.
May you like
Then she said:
"YOUR FIANCÉE WAS AT THE SCENE OF THOMAS MOORE'S FATAL ACCIDENT."
