Chapter 3 - THE PROMISE THAT BECAME A LIE
Dominic did not react immediately.
That frightened Camille more than anger would have.
His father had been dead twelve years.
Anthony Moretti’s portrait still hung above the fireplace in Dominic’s private study.
Dominic had spent most of his adult life defending a complicated man.
Hard.
Controlling.
Old-fashioned.
But loyal to his family.
At least that was what Dominic had believed.
“My father knew about Anna?”
Margaret nodded.
“From the beginning.”
Walter gripped the iron chair.
“That isn’t possible.”
Margaret looked at him.
“It is.”
“You told us Mrs. Moretti was staying with relatives because she was ill.”
“I told you what Anthony instructed me to tell everyone.”
Dominic’s voice stayed dangerously level.
“Start at the beginning.”
Camille stepped closer to her mother.
“Not in front of eighty people.”
Dominic glanced toward the lawn.
Then at his security chief.
“End the party.”
Camille stared.
“What?”
“Politely.”
“Dominic, these are judges, investors—”
“And they know what a family emergency looks like.”
“This is our engagement party.”
“Not anymore.”
The words hit harder than shouting.
Camille’s face crumpled for half a second.
“Are you ending our engagement?”
“I’m ending the party.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Dominic looked at her.
“I know.”
Guests began quietly receiving explanations.
Within minutes, music stopped.
Valets brought cars around.
The beautiful celebration dissolved into whispers.
Camille stood among wilting centerpieces and watched the future she had carefully arranged disappear one black sedan at a time.
Evelyn almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
When only family and staff remained, they moved into the library.
Anna stayed near the door.
Dominic noticed.
“You can sit.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve been standing since you arrived.”
“I said I’m fine.”
The sharpness surprised both of them.
Anna immediately looked ashamed.
“Sorry.”
Dominic shook his head.
“Don’t apologize.”
For a moment they simply studied each other.
Brother and sister.
Strangers.
Walter sat beside the fireplace.
Margaret refused a drink.
Camille stood behind her mother’s chair.
Evelyn remained near a bookcase until Dominic pointed to the sofa.
“You too.”
Camille gave an exhausted laugh.
“Of course.”
Evelyn sat.
Dominic placed the birth certificate, photograph and letter on the coffee table.
“Talk.”
Margaret folded her hands.
“In the spring of 1998, your father received threats.”
“What kind?”
“The kind the Moretti family received in those days.”
Dominic understood.
He did not ask for details.
Margaret continued.
“The threats changed when Elena became pregnant. Someone discovered it was a girl.”
Anna frowned.
“Why would that matter?”
“Because threatening Anthony didn’t work. Threatening Dominic didn’t work either, because by then your father had security around him constantly.”
Dominic remembered that year.
Drivers.
Guards.
Being told he couldn’t ride his bicycle beyond the front gate.
He had thought his father was being overprotective.
Margaret looked at Anna.
“A newborn was different.”
Walter whispered a curse.
“Elena panicked,” Margaret said. “She wanted the pregnancy hidden. She stayed away from Philadelphia for most of the summer.”
Dominic remembered his mother saying she was helping an aunt in Maine.
He had been fourteen.
Old enough to notice.
Young enough to believe her.
“Rose and her husband had been trying to adopt,” Margaret continued. “They were good people. Quiet people. They lived outside Providence.”
Anna’s throat tightened.
“Rose was good.”
Margaret nodded.
“Yes.”
“So my mother gave me away?”
“No.”
Margaret said it immediately.
“Elena placed you with Rose temporarily.”
“Ninety days.”
“Yes.”
Anna looked toward the letter.
“Ninety days.”
Margaret’s voice shook.
“She believed the danger would pass.”
“And it didn’t?”
“It did.”
Dominic leaned forward.
“Then why wasn’t Anna brought home?”
Margaret looked at him.
“Because your father changed the plan.”
Walter slowly raised his head.
Margaret continued.
“Anthony became convinced that the people threatening the family had contacts inside the Moretti organization. He said bringing Anna back would identify her.”
“Was he right?”
“For a while? Maybe.”
Anna shook her head.
“For twenty-seven years?”
“No.”
Margaret’s answer came quietly.
“That part became something else.”
Dominic waited.
Margaret looked toward Anthony’s photograph on the library wall.
“Control.”
That word seemed to settle over everything.
“Elena wanted Anna back by Christmas. Anthony refused. They fought constantly. By January, Elena told me she was finished asking permission.”
Dominic looked down at his mother’s letter.
“She was going to bring Anna home.”
“Yes.”
“On February seventeenth.”
Margaret nodded.
Anna rubbed her palms together.
“What happened?”
Margaret hesitated.
Camille touched her shoulder.
“Mom.”
“I owe them.”
“You don’t owe them everything.”
“Yes,” Margaret whispered. “I do.”
She looked at Dominic.
“Elena left Philadelphia before sunrise.”
Dominic knew the next part.
Every member of the household knew it.
His mother’s car had left the road outside Trenton during freezing rain.
She died before reaching the hospital.
For years, Dominic had believed she had been driving to visit a sick friend.
She had actually been driving toward her daughter.
Anna stared at the carpet.
“So she was coming for me.”
“Yes.”
For the first time, Anna cried.
Silently.
Dominic stood, then stopped because he had no idea whether she wanted comfort from a brother she had known for twelve minutes.
Evelyn saw the uncertainty.
She reached for a box of tissues and set it near Anna without touching her.
Anna gave her a grateful glance.
Then Walter spoke.
“After Elena died, Anthony told us she had been depressed.”
Dominic turned.
Walter’s mouth tightened.
“He said she’d been restless. That she shouldn’t have been driving.”
Margaret looked away.
Dominic noticed.
“He blamed her.”
Margaret said nothing.
“He spent twenty-seven years letting everyone believe her death was carelessness.”
“I know.”
“While knowing where she was going.”
“Yes.”
Dominic walked to the window.
Outside, employees removed engagement decorations.
A gold ribbon fluttered from the rose arbor.
Anna suddenly said, “Rose received money.”
Everyone turned.
“For me. Every month until I turned eighteen.”
Margaret nodded.
“Anthony arranged that.”
“I never knew.”
“Rose saved most of it.”
Anna’s voice became quieter.
“She said it wasn’t hers to spend.”
Camille finally spoke.
“So he did take care of you.”
Dominic turned.
“That’s your defense?”
“No.”
“But you’re looking for one.”
“I’m trying to understand people who were terrified twenty-seven years ago.”
“That would be easier if you hadn’t fired Walter yesterday.”
Camille’s face flushed.
“I made a terrible decision.”
“You made several.”
“I was protecting my mother.”
Anna looked at her.
“From me?”
“From what this story would make people think.”
“What people?”
“Everyone.”
Anna gave a tired laugh.
“I’m a dental hygienist from Rhode Island, Camille. I didn’t come with reporters.”
“No, but once Dominic learned—”
“Once Dominic learned what?”
Camille stopped.
Dominic stepped closer.
“What exactly were you afraid I’d learn?”
Margaret turned sharply.
“Camille.”
Too late.
Dominic had seen it.
“There’s more.”
Camille’s silence confirmed it.
Anna reached into her coat pocket.
“I think there is too.”
She removed something wrapped in a handkerchief.
An old hospital bracelet.
The plastic had yellowed with age.
Printed across it:
BABY GIRL MORETTI — 9/14/98
Walter wiped both eyes.
Anna turned the bracelet over.
On the inside, someone had written three numbers in faded blue ink.
214.
Dominic looked at the tree tag.
The number stamped beneath June 1998.
214.
Evelyn stood.
“Same number.”
Margaret’s expression changed.
“What?”
Dominic placed the tag beside the bracelet.
Perfect match.
Walter shook his head.
“I never knew what that number meant.”
Margaret did.
Everyone saw it.
Dominic faced her.
“Tell me.”
Margaret whispered, “I haven’t seen that number in twenty-seven years.”
“What is it?”
She looked at Anna.
Then Dominic.
“It isn’t a hospital number.”
Camille closed her eyes.
Margaret continued.
“It’s a bank box.”
Dominic frowned.
“Containing what?”
Margaret’s voice nearly disappeared.
May you like
“The reason your father made sure Anna never came home.”
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