Chapter 6 - THE BOY WITH THE BRASS SNOWFLAKE
“The boy is Daniel's grandson.”
Marco placed a second photograph on Luca's desk.
“His name is Owen Mercer. He's nine years old.”
I looked at the little boy in the red coat.
He had sandy blond hair, round cheeks, and a serious expression.
The brass disk hanging around his neck was almost identical to the token Vanessa had taken from Nicholas's mitten.
“Why would Amelia leave a token for him?” I asked.
Luca examined the photograph.
“Perhaps because Daniel knew where Clara was.”
“But I was Clara.”
“I know.”
Adrian Keller, who had arrived earlier that morning, leaned forward.
“Mr. Moretti, we shouldn't assume the token was intended for Owen. The photograph may be telling us something about his grandfather.”
Luca nodded.
“Then we ask him.”
Two hours later, we drove north toward Milwaukee.
I sat in the back beside Adrian.
Luca rode in front with Marco.
The second mitten rested in a small cloth bag on my lap.
Nicholas had insisted I take it.
“Don't let anybody cut it,” he'd told me.
I promised.
And for the first time since the dinner, I understood why Amelia had trusted ordinary objects.
They didn't change their stories.
People did.
Daniel Mercer's apartment was modest.
There were family photographs on the walls and a wooden model sailboat on the windowsill.
A nurse showed us into a sitting room.
Daniel sat beside a small table, reading a newspaper.
His hair was white.
His hands trembled slightly.
But his eyes were sharp.
When he saw Luca, he slowly lowered the paper.
“You look like your father.”
Luca remained standing.
“I've been told that before.”
Daniel looked at me.
His face changed.
Then he whispered, “Clara.”
I felt my throat tighten.
“You remember me?”
He nodded.
“You used to steal the peppermints from my desk.”
I gave a nervous laugh.
“That sounds like something I might have done.”
He smiled sadly.
“You always brought the wrappers back because you thought that made it less like stealing.”
For a moment, I felt something warm beneath the confusion.
A memory almost close enough to touch.
Luca pulled out a chair.
“We need to talk about my father's trust.”
Daniel's smile disappeared.
“I wondered when this day would come.”
Adrian placed the brass token from Vanessa's purse on the table.
Daniel stared at it.
“Where did you find that?”
“Inside a mitten Amelia made,” I answered.
Daniel touched the engraved snowflake.
“Amelia was clever.”
“Did you know her?” Luca asked.
“Yes. She contacted me shortly before she died.”
Luca leaned forward.
“What did she discover?”
Daniel looked toward me.
“Perhaps we should begin with what happened to Clara.”
I sat straighter.
“Please.”
Daniel took a long breath.
“Your mother was a young woman named Isabel Hart.”
The name felt unfamiliar.
I repeated it silently.
Isabel Hart.
“Who was my father?”
Daniel hesitated.
“His name was Michael Moretti.”
Luca went completely still.
“My uncle?”
Daniel nodded.
“Your father's younger brother.”
I stared at Luca.
That made us cousins.
Not strangers.
Not simply two people connected by a powerful family.
Family.
Real family.
“What happened to my parents?” I asked.
Daniel's eyes saddened.
“They died in an automobile accident when you were four.”
I swallowed.
“Both of them?”
“Yes.”
The room became unbearably quiet.
Daniel continued.
“Alessandro brought you into the family home. He intended to raise you alongside Luca.”
“Then why was I sent away?”
Daniel looked toward the window.
“Because someone learned your father's estate included a substantial share of the family trust.”
Luca leaned forward.
“My uncle's share passed to his daughter?”
“Under your grandfather's original instructions, yes.”
“And somebody wanted it?”
Daniel nodded.
“Your uncle had left enough assets to make Clara financially independent when she reached adulthood.”
I almost laughed.
Financially independent.
I thought about the overdue mortgage payment on my mother's kitchen table.
The medicine we sometimes divided into smaller purchases because we couldn't afford a full month's supply.
“Then where did the money go?”
Daniel's expression hardened.
“That is the question your father-in-law-to-be should answer.”
Luca stared.
“Mr. Bellini?”
Daniel nodded.
“He persuaded Alessandro to authorize a temporary protective arrangement. He claimed Clara's identity had been compromised and that enemies of the family could use her as leverage.”
“Was that true?”
“Partly.”
Luca frowned.
Daniel continued.
“There had been threats. But Bellini used those threats to gain control of Clara's inheritance.”
My hands went cold.
“He wanted me gone?”
“He wanted you beyond Alessandro's daily supervision.”
Luca stood.
“My father would never knowingly let that happen.”
Daniel looked at him.
“Your father believed you would be safer if Clara went somewhere nobody associated with the Moretti name. He thought the assets were protected until she was older.”
“But they weren't,” Adrian said.
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
I looked toward the photograph of Owen.
“What does your grandson have to do with this?”
Daniel's expression softened.
“Owen's father, my son Thomas, helped me recover some of the original records before he died.”
I swallowed.
“I'm sorry.”
“Thank you.”
Daniel picked up the photograph.
“Thomas found a record of the transactions Bellini had concealed. He left a copy for Owen, but I was afraid the papers might disappear if they were kept together.”
“Is that why Owen has the token?”
“Yes.”
Adrian leaned forward.
“What does it open?”
Daniel hesitated.
“A sealed packet containing the original trust ledger and transfer instructions.”
Luca frowned.
“Where?”
“At the offices of a retired court-appointed records custodian. Thomas arranged it before he died.”
I looked at the old man.
“Why didn't you simply go to the police?”
Daniel's expression grew tired.
“We tried to report the irregularities. Bellini's lawyers argued that the transfers were authorized trust restructurings. The remaining papers appeared legitimate.”
Adrian nodded slowly.
“The kind of fraud that can hide inside complicated transactions.”
Daniel looked at me.
“Amelia was the first person who believed us enough to investigate the underlying authorizations.”
My eyes burned.
“She believed you?”
“She believed the little girl she remembered deserved the truth.”
I looked down at the mitten.
“And she made a way for us to find it.”
Daniel nodded.
Then he reached into his cardigan pocket.
He removed a small black-and-white photograph.
It showed Alessandro Moretti standing beside a young girl in a gray coat.
Me.
Behind us was a large wooden door.
Daniel pointed to the man's hand.
“He was holding a folded letter. The last instruction he wrote concerning Clara.”
Luca leaned forward.
“Where is that letter?”
Daniel looked ashamed.
“I gave it to Alessandro's executor after his death.”
“Who?”
Daniel's eyes lifted.
“Vittorio Bellini.”
Luca clenched his jaw.
But Daniel wasn't finished.
“There's one more thing about the transfers. Bellini didn't act entirely alone.”
Adrian frowned.
“Who helped him?”
Daniel looked toward Luca.
“Someone inside the Moretti household had access to Alessandro's private correspondence.”
Luca stared.
“Who?”
Daniel shook his head.
“I couldn't prove it.”
“Do you have a name?”
“I have a signature.”
He reached into a drawer and removed a photocopied authorization form.
At the bottom were two signatures.
Vittorio Bellini.
And beneath it, in familiar handwriting—
Vanessa Bellini.
I stared at the date.
It was eighteen years ago.
Vanessa had been a teenager.
Luca whispered, “She was only seventeen.”
Daniel nodded.
“Which is why you need to ask what she thought she was signing.”
Then he turned the paper over.
A handwritten instruction appeared on the back.
Transfer beneficiary Clara Moretti to inactive status. Substitute Nicholas Moretti upon the birth of a qualifying male heir.
Luca went pale.
“Nicholas wasn't even born.”
Daniel looked at him.
“That's what made the arrangement so dangerous. Your son was being prepared as a replacement before you ever had one.”
I stared at the document.
Then Daniel spoke the words that frightened me most.
“Mr. Moretti, the money wasn't simply stolen from Clara. Part of it was placed under a future child's identity so that no one would question where it came from.”
Luca slowly stood.
“My son's name.”
May you like
Daniel nodded.
“And if the arrangement is still operating, the next transaction could make Nicholas legally responsible for money he never received.”
