Chapter 8 - THE PRICE OF A MOTHER'S SILENCE
“Twenty million dollars?”
Vanessa stared at Richard.
“My mother received twenty million dollars when Isabella died?”
Richard nodded.
“According to the estate records.”
Anthony stood so abruptly his chair scraped across the floor.
“That's impossible.”
Luca looked at him.
“Why?”
“Margaret never had twenty million dollars.”
Richard examined the document again.
“The payment was made to a trust in her name.”
Anthony shook his head.
“She was borrowing money from my brother six months later.”
Vanessa stared at her father.
“Daddy, you told me she lost everything because of Matteo.”
“She did.”
Richard frowned.
“Then someone may have controlled the trust without her knowledge.”
Luca looked toward the handwritten payment records.
“Peter Lawson.”
Anthony slowly sat down.
It was the first time all evening that he looked genuinely afraid.
“Peter managed the trust.”
Daniel folded his arms.
“Then the money wasn't necessarily Margaret's.”
“No,” Richard admitted. “We need the underlying bank records.”
Luca nodded.
“Preserve everything. Nothing leaves this house without being copied and inventoried.”
He turned toward Daniel.
“And tell your team to secure the archive access logs.”
Daniel hesitated.
Luca noticed.
“What is it?”
“Sir, my mother wants to speak with Sofia.”
The words changed the room.
Vanessa looked up.
“Eleanor?”
Daniel nodded.
“She says it's time.”
Luca stepped closer.
“Does she know where Sofia is?”
“Yes.”
Vanessa's expression shifted.
Daniel continued.
“Apparently, they've exchanged Christmas cards for years.”
I stared at him.
“Your adoptive mother and Sofia?”
Daniel nodded.
“She never told Sofia where I lived. Matteo had threatened to interfere with my adoption if she did.”
Luca looked shaken.
“And now?”
“Now she says there's no reason to be frightened of a dead man.”
Anthony lowered his eyes.
Vanessa wiped her cheeks.
Daniel looked at Luca.
“I want Sofia here.”
Luca nodded.
“Then invite her.”
Vanessa stood.
“She won't trust you.”
Luca looked directly at her.
“Then I'll give her a reason.”
He turned toward Richard.
“Prepare a written hold on every disputed estate transaction. Nobody receives anything until the records are reviewed.”
Richard nodded.
“And Sofia's share?”
“Protected.”
Daniel looked at him.
“What about the money Vanessa tried to transfer?”
Luca glanced toward his fiancée.
“That will be investigated too.”
Vanessa swallowed.
“Luca, I wasn't trying to steal everything.”
“I know you believed your family was owed something.”
She looked relieved.
But he continued.
“That doesn't give you the right to take it from someone else.”
She lowered her eyes.
The next morning, I returned from the hospital with three stitches in my palm and strict instructions not to lift anything heavy.
I hadn't slept.
I expected to be dismissed.
Instead, Mrs. Wilson met me in the foyer.
“Mr. Moretti would like to speak with you.”
My stomach tightened.
“Am I in trouble?”
She looked almost offended.
“Absolutely not.”
Luca was waiting in the study.
His mother's photograph stood on the desk.
Beside it lay the silver watch and the pearl button.
He rose when I entered.
“Claire, how's your hand?”
“Better, sir.”
“Please sit.”
I did.
He placed an envelope on the desk.
“My family owes you an apology.”
I looked down.
“Sir—”
“Not because you refused to cut my mother's dress.”
He paused.
“Because you were put in a position where doing the right thing meant risking your livelihood.”
My throat tightened.
He continued.
“I've arranged paid medical leave until your hand heals. Your treatment will be covered.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“And your job is secure.”
My eyes filled.
“I was afraid I'd lose it.”
“I know.”
He looked ashamed.
“I should have noticed sooner how Vanessa treated the staff.”
I shook my head.
“You were away.”
“That doesn't excuse what happened under my roof.”
Then he opened the envelope.
Inside was a check.
I stared at the amount.
“Mr. Moretti, I can't accept this.”
“It's compensation, Claire. Not a reward for keeping quiet.”
He slid a second document toward me.
“And Mrs. Wilson is helping us establish a formal complaint process. No employee should ever have to depend on a guest's intervention to feel safe.”
I looked at him.
For the first time in eleven months, I felt less like someone trying to keep a job and more like someone whose work mattered.
“Thank you.”
Luca nodded.
Then his expression grew serious.
“There's something else.”
He picked up his mother's watch.
“Mrs. Wilson says you were the last person Sofia spoke to inside this house.”
“Yes.”
“Did she give you any indication where she'd go?”
I thought about the kitchen.
The old photographs.
The blue bracelet.
Then something returned to me.
“She mentioned a greenhouse.”
Luca looked up.
“A greenhouse?”
“She asked whether the roses still bloomed in September.”
He went still.
“My mother had a greenhouse at Lake Geneva.”
I nodded.
“She said she'd like to see it again.”
Luca picked up his coat.
“Daniel!”
The security chief entered.
“We're going to Lake Geneva.”
Daniel nodded.
“And Sofia?”
“We'll ask her to meet us there.”
I stood.
“Mr. Moretti?”
He turned.
“I think I know why she asked about the roses.”
He waited.
“Your mother kept old photographs beneath the potting bench.”
Luca stared at me.
“How do you know that?”
“Mrs. Wilson once asked me to organize the family albums. There was a picture of Isabella in the greenhouse, holding a wooden box.”
Luca looked toward the little walnut box on his desk.
“Like this one?”
I shook my head.
“No. Bigger.”
His expression changed.
“How much bigger?”
“About the size of a shoebox.”
Luca turned toward Daniel.
“We need to find it.”
By afternoon, Luca, Daniel, Mrs. Wilson, and I stood inside the old Lake Geneva greenhouse.
The glass roof was dusty.
The roses had grown wild.
And beneath the potting bench was a loose wooden board.
Daniel lifted it.
Inside was a tin box wrapped in oilcloth.
Luca opened it carefully.
There were letters.
Medical receipts.
A photograph of Dr. Whitcomb.
And a sealed envelope marked in Isabella's handwriting.
FOR LUCA — ONLY WHEN YOU'RE READY TO HEAR WHY I STAYED.
Luca broke the seal.
Inside was a letter.
He read the first paragraph.
Then sat down heavily.
Daniel stepped closer.
“What does it say?”
Luca looked at him.
His eyes were filled with tears.
“My mother knew who changed her medication.”
Daniel went still.
“Who?”
Luca swallowed.
Then read the next line aloud.
“She says the person who gave her the wrong pills was trying to stop her from revealing where Gabriel lived.”
I stared at him.
“Was it Peter?”
Luca shook his head.
“No.”
He looked toward Daniel.
“According to my mother, the person who handed her those pills was someone she trusted more than anyone.”
Daniel frowned.
“Who?”
Luca looked at the final sentence.
May you like
Then whispered:
“Her own sister.”
