Chapter 5 - THE MAN WHO CALLED HIMSELF MY FATHER
“Richard Bellini is not my father.”
The words came out before I could stop them.
Luca stood beside me, staring at the hospital paper.
Edward looked as though he might collapse.
I snatched the document from his hands.
“There has to be another explanation.”
The words were printed clearly.
Do not release to father.
Richard Bellini's name appeared beneath the instruction.
I had spent my entire childhood believing my father was Michael Bennett, a quiet mechanic who died in a workplace accident when I was nine.
He'd taught me to ride a bicycle.
He'd carried me to bed when I fell asleep watching movies.
And he'd cried when I sang badly at my first school concert.
Nothing about a hospital paper could erase those memories.
Luca spoke gently.
“Claire, this doesn't necessarily mean Richard was your biological father.”
I looked at him.
“Then why is his name there?”
“We need to establish what that form actually records.”
Edward reached for the document.
I held it away.
“No.”
He stopped.
“I'm not trying to take it.”
I swallowed.
“Everyone keeps telling me pieces of my own life. I need something that belongs to me.”
Luca stepped back.
“Then keep it.”
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Finally, I asked Edward, “Who was Rebecca Lewis?”
“A nurse at St. Catherine's Hospital. She was still working there when Margaret died.”
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
“Then we need to speak with her.”
Luca nodded.
“I'll ask Detective Whitcomb to help locate her.”
I shook my head.
“This isn't a police investigation into my childhood.”
“Richard Bellini may be connected to whatever happened at the hotel.”
I looked at the paper again.
“And apparently to what happened to me.”
Luca didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
The next morning, I was sitting beside my mother's hospital bed when she noticed Giuseppe's watch on my wrist.
Her face went white.
“Where did you get that?”
I had barely slept.
Detective Whitcomb had confirmed that Helen Mercer had not been found inside the Bellavista.
The police had secured Room Twelve and interviewed Richard.
He claimed the renovation company had subcontracted the security arrangements.
Vanessa had also been questioned.
She insisted she knew nothing about the locked room.
I didn't know what to believe.
But my mother's reaction told me one thing.
The watch mattered.
“Mom,” I said, “do you know Giuseppe Moretti?”
Her eyes filled.
“Claire.”
“Please don't lie to me.”
She looked toward the door.
“Is someone here with you?”
“Luca drove me. He's waiting downstairs.”
She closed her eyes.
“Oh, honey.”
I sat beside her.
“Were you an accountant at the Bellavista?”
“Yes.”
“Did Richard Bellini accuse you of stealing money?”
She covered her face.
I waited.
Finally, she nodded.
“Did you steal it?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
I believed her.
“Then why didn't you fight the accusation?”
“Because they threatened you.”
My throat tightened.
She lowered her hands.
“Richard told me if I went to the police, you'd be placed in state custody while they investigated whether I was a fit mother.”
I stared at her.
“He could do that?”
“No,” she whispered. “But I didn't know that then. He had lawyers, connections, money. And I had a sick little girl.”
I looked at the hospital bracelet in my purse.
“What was wrong with me?”
“You had a severe infection. You needed surgery. Michael and I were terrified.”
She reached for my hand.
“Giuseppe paid for everything.”
I began crying.
“Why?”
“Because he was a good man.”
“Was that all?”
She looked away.
“Mom.”
Her voice broke.
“He believed we'd been treated terribly, and he wanted to make it right.”
I took out the discharge paper.
“Why did the hospital say not to release me to Richard?”
She stared at the name.
Then slowly shook her head.
“This isn't what you think.”
“Then tell me.”
“Richard was trying to take control of the money Giuseppe had set aside for your treatment.”
I frowned.
“What money?”
“Giuseppe created an emergency medical fund for employees and their families. Richard was the outside financial administrator.”
She swallowed.
“He told the hospital that he had authority over your medical expenses and could decide whether you were discharged.”
My chest tightened.
“He tried to keep me in the hospital?”
“He tried to make me sign a document transferring the fund's remaining money to his company.”
I looked at her.
“How much?”
“Almost a quarter of a million dollars.”
The same amount Richard had accused her of stealing.
My mother continued.
“Giuseppe discovered what Richard was doing. He came to the hospital and insisted you be released to me.”
I stared at the photograph of Giuseppe carrying me.
“He was protecting us.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you leave the Bellavista?”
My mother started crying.
“Because after Giuseppe confronted Richard, someone falsified the hotel's accounts to make it appear that I had stolen the medical fund.”
She gripped my hand.
“Michael wanted to fight. I begged him not to.”
I thought about my father.
His kindness.
His patience.
The way he sometimes grew quiet when bills arrived.
“Did Dad know everything?”
She nodded.
“He loved you more than anything.”
I looked down at the watch.
For years I'd believed my parents' struggle was simply bad luck.
Now I understood they'd been carrying fear I never knew existed.
“Mom, why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I wanted you to grow up without feeling that someone powerful could take your life away whenever he pleased.”
I couldn't be angry with her.
Not entirely.
But the silence had cost us both.
“There's something else,” I said.
She looked at me.
“Helen Mercer.”
My mother sat upright.
“What about Helen?”
“She's missing.”
The color drained from her face.
“Missing?”
“Someone locked her inside Room Twelve at the Bellavista. The police found the room empty.”
My mother gripped the bedsheet.
“Richard found her.”
“We don't know that.”
She shook her head.
“You don't understand.”
“Then help me understand.”
She looked at the door again.
I saw genuine terror in her eyes.
“Helen isn't just the woman who trained me at the hotel.”
I waited.
“She raised me after my own mother died.”
My chest tightened.
“So she's your guardian?”
“More than that. She became my mother in every way that mattered.”
I sat closer.
“Why did she stay at the Bellavista?”
“Giuseppe gave her a lifelong right to live there after she retired.”
My mother swallowed.
“She promised she would never leave because she was protecting something.”
“What?”
“A book.”
I remembered the message on the hidden phone.
I didn't give them the book.
“What book, Mom?”
Before she could answer, her hospital room door opened.
A woman in her late fifties stood there wearing a navy coat.
She carried an old leather handbag.
“I think I can answer that.”
My mother stared.
“Rebecca?”
The woman nodded.
“Anna.”
I stood.
Rebecca Lewis looked at me.
“You must be Claire.”
I didn't answer.
She took an envelope from her handbag.
“My mother asked me to keep this until Giuseppe could safely receive it.”
I stared at the envelope.
“What is it?”
Rebecca's expression tightened.
“The original agreement establishing the Bellavista employees' medical fund.”
She placed it on the bed.
“But there's something you need to know before you open it.”
I swallowed.
“What?”
Rebecca looked at my mother.
Then at me.
“Richard Bellini didn't create the false theft accusation alone.”
My mother's face went white.
Rebecca continued.
“THE SECOND SIGNATURE BELONGED TO SOMEONE GIUSEPPE TRUSTED MORE THAN HIS OWN ACCOUNTANT.”
She turned the envelope over.
May you like
Across the seal was written one name.
EDWARD SULLIVAN.
