Chapter 3 - THE MAN WHO PAID FOR MY GRANDFATHER'S FUNERAL
Vanessa's whisper was barely audible.
But Richard heard it.
“Be quiet,” he warned.
Luca took one step toward him.
“No. She'll speak.”
Vanessa looked between them.
“Luca, you don't understand.”
“Then help me.”
Her lips trembled.
“My father has spent twenty-two years making sure your father's disappearance stayed buried.”
Richard closed the pocket watch.
“Vanessa!”
She flinched.
I looked at the silver watch in Luca's hand.
Keep Sarah from Victor.
“Victor Bellini?” I asked.
Nobody answered.
I remembered meeting Vanessa's father once.
He'd visited the mansion in June.
A tall, distinguished man with silver hair and a warm voice.
He'd complimented my work.
Then asked whether I had family in Chicago.
When I said no, he'd smiled.
“That's unfortunate. Everyone should have family nearby.”
I'd thought he was being kind.
Now I remembered the way he examined my locket.
Luca turned to Gabriel.
“Where is Victor?”
Gabriel checked the guest list.
“He declined tonight's dinner. Said he was in Milwaukee.”
Richard laughed bitterly.
“Victor never goes anywhere without leaving someone behind to watch.”
Luca looked at him.
“Is that why you're here?”
Richard didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
I stepped forward.
“Why would Vanessa's father want to hurt me?”
Richard looked at the floor.
“Because your mother inherited something he believed belonged to him.”
“What?”
“Control.”
Luca frowned.
“Control of what?”
“Moretti Holdings.”
The name meant nothing to me beyond the company printed on some of my paychecks.
But Luca's expression changed.
“My father built that company.”
“With two partners,” Richard said. “Victor Bellini and your grandfather's friend, Thomas Moreland.”
I shook my head.
“Grandpa was a piano teacher.”
“He became one after leaving Chicago.”
Richard sat down heavily.
“Before that, he handled the company's financial records.”
I stared at him.
My grandfather had spent his final years driving an old Buick and clipping grocery coupons.
He'd once cried when I bought him a new winter coat because he said I couldn't afford it.
“You're lying.”
Richard didn't argue.
Instead, he opened the watch again.
“Look beneath the photograph.”
Luca carefully lifted the tiny picture.
Hidden behind it was a folded strip of paper.
He unfolded it.
Three names.
Anthony Moretti.
Thomas Moreland.
Isabella Moretti.
Beside them were percentages.
Luca frowned.
“Forty. Ten. Fifty.”
Richard nodded.
“Your father created a protective ownership arrangement shortly before he disappeared.”
“Why would Isabella receive fifty percent?” Luca demanded.
Richard looked toward me.
“Because Anthony discovered Victor had been stealing from the company. He transferred control to the one person Victor couldn't intimidate publicly without exposing his crimes.”
“My mother,” I whispered.
Richard nodded.
“Isabella was nineteen. Anthony intended to announce her existence and her ownership at the next board meeting.”
“But he disappeared,” Luca said.
“Yes.”
“And she disappeared too.”
Richard's silence returned.
I gripped the edge of the table.
“What happened to my mother?”
Richard looked directly at me.
“I don't know where she went.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I asked the question that mattered most.
“Did you hurt her?”
His face changed.
“I helped take her away from Chicago.”
“Why?”
“Because Victor had threatened you.”
Daniel appeared beside me.
“Mommy, I don't like this.”
I wrapped my arm around him.
Neither did I.
Luca glanced at my son.
Then at the guests who remained trapped in a dinner they never expected to witness.
He spoke to Gabriel.
“Let the guests leave after taking their names and contact information. Nobody is to discuss Sarah or Daniel with reporters.”
Gabriel nodded.
Richard looked surprised.
“Your father would have kept them here.”
“I'm not my father.”
The words stayed with me.
For the first time, I saw Luca as something other than the intimidating employer whose house I cleaned.
He was a son trying to understand why his childhood had been built around a disappearance.
And I was a daughter learning that almost everything I'd been told about my family was incomplete.
Mrs. Alvarez approached.
“Sarah, I can take Daniel upstairs to the little television room.”
I hesitated.
Daniel shook his head.
“I want Mommy.”
Luca looked at him.
“Then Mommy stays.”
There was something unmistakably gentle in his voice.
We moved into the smaller sitting room.
Vanessa followed.
Richard remained by the fireplace.
Luca placed the watch on the table between us.
“Tell me about the funeral,” he said.
Richard frowned.
“What funeral?”
“Thomas Bennett's.”
I looked up.
“Grandpa's?”
Luca nodded toward me.
“Who paid for it?”
“I did.”
“Are you certain?”
I hesitated.
The funeral director had reduced the bill unexpectedly.
He'd said an anonymous family friend had covered several expenses.
At the time, I'd been too grateful to ask questions.
“There was someone,” I admitted.
Richard lowered his eyes.
Luca noticed.
“Victor?”
Richard nodded.
My stomach turned.
“Why would he pay for Grandpa's funeral?”
“Because Victor wanted to know whether Thomas had left you anything.”
I remembered the director handing me a sealed envelope.
Inside had been a sympathy card with no signature.
And a small brass key.
The card said only:
For the things Thomas couldn't explain.
I'd placed the key in my kitchen drawer.
Never knowing what it opened.
I told Luca.
He leaned forward.
“Do you still have it?”
“Yes.”
Richard suddenly looked alarmed.
“Describe it.”
“Small. Brass. A blue thread tied around the top.”
Richard shut his eyes.
“Thomas, you stubborn fool.”
“What?” I demanded.
“Your grandfather took something from Victor twenty-two years ago.”
“What did he take?”
“The only evidence that could prove your mother owned half the company.”
Luca shook his head.
“Corporate ownership doesn't disappear because someone steals a document.”
“No,” Richard replied. “But it becomes difficult to prove when the relevant records are altered, the witnesses vanish, and the surviving partners control the company's books.”
I looked at the watch.
“Is that why Victor wanted the cassette?”
“Partly.”
“What's the other reason?”
Richard hesitated.
Luca spoke quietly.
“Richard, if Victor is still dangerous, withholding information won't make anyone safer.”
The older man looked toward Vanessa.
Then he said something unexpected.
“Vanessa tried to protect Sarah.”
I almost laughed.
“She tried to steal from me and humiliated my son.”
“I know.”
Vanessa began crying.
Richard continued.
“She hired you because Victor ordered her to find Thomas's granddaughter. But when he instructed her to bring Daniel to a Bellini-owned medical facility, she refused.”
I pulled my son closer.
“What medical facility?”
Vanessa covered her face.
“I didn't know what he wanted. I swear.”
Luca's expression hardened.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because my father has proof of things I did when I was younger. Things that could destroy my life.”
I stared at the woman in the red gown.
For the first time, her cruelty looked less like confidence and more like panic disguised as authority.
It didn't excuse what she'd done.
But it explained why she looked terrified whenever Daniel spoke.
Luca turned toward me.
“Sarah, we need that key.”
I nodded.
Then I remembered something else.
The previous afternoon, someone from the apartment management office had called.
They'd said maintenance needed access to inspect a water leak.
I'd agreed.
But there had never been a leak.
“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, “someone went into my apartment yesterday.”
Richard stood.
“What?”
“My landlord said it was maintenance.”
Luca immediately looked at Gabriel.
“Send two people to check her apartment. No one touches anything until Sarah identifies what's missing.”
Gabriel left.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Daniel fell asleep against my shoulder.
Finally, Gabriel returned.
He looked at Luca.
“The apartment door was locked. No signs of forced entry.”
I exhaled.
“But the kitchen drawers were emptied,” Gabriel continued. “And the brass key isn't there.”
Richard whispered something under his breath.
Luca looked at him.
“What does the key open?”
Richard stared at me.
“Thomas didn't keep the evidence in a bank.”
“Where?” Luca demanded.
Richard's eyes filled with something that looked like grief.
“In the place Anthony promised Isabella would always belong.”
Luca went still.
Then he slowly turned toward the black grand piano.
May you like
And whispered:
“My father's music room.”
