Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO KNEW HOW HIS MOTHER DIED
“Your mother didn't die the way you were told.”
Vanessa's father, Anthony Bellini, stood at the far end of the dining table, looking as though he regretted every word.
Luca Moretti didn't move.
Neither did the forty-six guests gathered beneath the chandeliers.
Then Luca carefully placed his mother's letter beside his untouched champagne.
“Explain that.”
Anthony glanced toward his daughter.
Vanessa shook her head.
“Daddy, don't.”
“I'm finished protecting you, Vanessa.”
“You promised!”
Anthony's face tightened.
“I promised to help you marry a good man. I never promised to help you destroy his family.”
Luca raised one hand.
“Both of you. Stop.”
His voice wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
He looked directly at Anthony.
“Tell me what you know about my mother's death.”
Anthony swallowed.
“Nine years ago, Isabella was taken to St. Catherine's Hospital after collapsing at your family's Lake Geneva property.”
“I know that.”
“You were told she suffered a fatal stroke.”
“Because she did.”
Anthony looked down.
“That's what the hospital's final report said.”
“Then what's your point?”
“Her sister never believed it.”
Luca stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because Sofia received a postcard from Isabella three days before she died. Your mother said someone had been changing her medication.”
My stomach tightened.
I was still sitting near the wall, my injured hand wrapped in fresh gauze.
Mrs. Wilson stood beside me.
But I barely noticed the pain anymore.
Luca picked up his mother's letter.
“Who?”
Anthony shook his head.
“Sofia never found out.”
Vanessa suddenly stepped forward.
“That's because the whole story was nonsense!”
Luca turned.
“You knew about this?”
She hesitated.
“I knew your aunt was obsessed with your mother's death.”
“And you didn't tell me?”
“Luca, your mother had been dead for nine years. I didn't want to reopen something painful.”
He studied her.
“Then why bring Sofia into my house?”
Vanessa's eyes filled.
“Because she contacted me.”
Richard Coleman cleared his throat.
“That's not entirely accurate.”
Vanessa spun toward him.
“Richard!”
He opened his leather folder.
“Miss Bellini approached my office six weeks ago. She asked me to locate a woman named Sofia Rossi.”
Luca looked toward his fiancée.
“You searched for her?”
Vanessa said nothing.
Richard continued.
“She claimed Sofia was the rightful beneficiary of several properties belonging to Isabella Moretti.”
“And was she?”
Richard hesitated.
“According to the original estate records, Sofia had a contingent interest in those properties.”
Luca frowned.
“A contingent interest?”
“If Isabella died under circumstances requiring investigation, certain assets were supposed to be held until her sister could review the records.”
Vanessa looked furious.
“That provision was never activated!”
Richard nodded.
“Because the official death certificate recorded natural causes.”
Luca leaned against the table.
For the first time since entering the room, he looked less angry than lost.
“My mother planned for someone to question her death?”
Nobody answered.
Then I remembered something.
The photograph.
The two almost identical women standing outside the chapel.
“Mr. Moretti?”
He turned toward me.
“Yes, Claire?”
“The woman I saw two weeks ago... she wasn't acting like someone who wanted money.”
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“Oh, please. You spoke to her for ten seconds.”
I looked at Luca.
“She was frightened.”
“Of what?”
“I don't know. But when she asked where the photographs were kept, she was holding something.”
Luca stepped closer.
“What?”
“A silver bracelet.”
Vanessa's expression changed.
I continued.
“It had little blue stones. She kept rubbing one of them with her thumb.”
Luca went still.
“What kind of bracelet?”
“An old one. With a heart-shaped clasp.”
He closed his eyes.
When he opened them, there was something deeply painful in his expression.
“My mother had that bracelet.”
Vanessa looked away.
Luca continued quietly.
“My father gave it to her when I was born.”
He turned toward Mrs. Wilson.
“Do you remember it?”
The house manager nodded.
“Of course, sir. Mrs. Moretti wore it almost every day.”
Luca looked at Anthony.
“How did my aunt get it?”
Anthony's voice was barely audible.
“Your mother sent it to her.”
“When?”
“A week before she died.”
Luca stared at him.
Then he looked at Vanessa.
“You knew Sofia had my mother's bracelet.”
Vanessa whispered, “Yes.”
“And you still told me nothing?”
“I was trying to make things right.”
“By forging my dead mother's signature?”
Her face crumpled.
“I didn't forge it.”
Richard interrupted.
“The woman signed Isabella's name herself.”
Luca turned sharply.
“That doesn't make it legal.”
“No,” Richard admitted. “It doesn't.”
Anthony lowered himself into his chair.
“Vanessa told Sofia that you had been withholding Isabella's final letter. She said signing the transfer would force the estate into a formal review.”
Luca stared at Vanessa.
“Is that true?”
She began crying.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed Sofia to cooperate.”
“With what?”
Vanessa glanced toward the hidden compartment.
Luca followed her gaze.
Then he picked up the cream-colored envelope.
Inside, beneath the photograph, was a folded piece of blue paper.
He opened it.
His expression changed.
“What is this?”
Richard leaned forward.
“It appears to be a receipt.”
Luca read aloud.
“St. Catherine's Hospital. Medical Records Department. September seventeenth.”
He stopped.
“That's the day my mother died.”
At the bottom were two signatures.
One belonged to a hospital administrator.
The other belonged to someone whose name made Luca's face darken.
“Dr. Harold Whitcomb.”
Mrs. Wilson covered her mouth.
I looked between them.
“Who is he?”
Luca answered without looking away from the paper.
“My mother's physician.”
Anthony nodded.
“And the man who certified her death.”
Luca turned the receipt over.
Someone had written a short message on the back.
He read it silently.
Then again.
His jaw tightened.
“What does it say?” Vanessa whispered.
Luca looked directly at her.
“It says the original medication chart was removed from the hospital that night.”
Richard frowned.
“Removed by whom?”
Luca turned the paper toward him.
A name had been written beneath the message.
MATTEO MORETTI.
The room went silent.
I knew that name.
Everyone who worked in the mansion knew it.
Matteo Moretti was Luca's father.
The man who had died four years earlier.
The man whose portrait still hung above the fireplace in Luca's private study.
Luca stared at the receipt.
Then whispered something that made my blood run cold.
“My father told me he wasn't even at the hospital when my mother died.”
Vanessa began shaking.
Luca slowly looked toward her.
“You knew about this.”
She didn't answer.
“Vanessa.”
Her lips trembled.
“I only found out six weeks ago.”
“From whom?”
She looked toward Anthony.
Her father lowered his head.
Then Vanessa whispered:
“From the man who was paid to change your mother's medical records.”
Luca gripped the edge of the table.
“Is he still alive?”
Vanessa nodded.
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
She hesitated.
Then gave an answer nobody expected.
“He's been working for your family for twenty-three years.”
Luca went completely still.
And from beside me, Mrs. Wilson whispered:
May you like
“Oh, dear God.”
Because she recognized the handwriting on the receipt.
