Chapter 5 - THE BOY WHO STOLE MY BROTHER'S FACE
Luca didn't speak for several seconds.
Then he looked at Margaret as though she had become a stranger.
“Another son?”
Margaret nodded.
“His name was Gabriel.”
The name meant nothing to me.
But Luca's reaction made my stomach tighten.
He stepped away from the desk.
“My father had another child, and nobody told me?”
“Gabriel was born before your father's marriage to Isabella,” Margaret explained. “His mother was a young woman named Rose Calder.”
“Was he raised in this family?”
“No.”
“Did my grandfather know?”
Margaret hesitated.
“Yes.”
Luca laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“Of course he did.”
He looked at the photograph again.
The young man standing beside Isabella had an expression so similar to Luca's that it was unsettling.
“Where is Gabriel now?”
Margaret stared down at her hands.
“I don't know.”
I watched her carefully.
She had revealed enormous secrets, but this one seemed to frighten her differently.
“Margaret,” I said gently, “when did you last see him?”
“Twenty-four years ago.”
“The year I was born.”
She nodded.
“Gabriel was trying to help Isabella escape.”
Luca turned toward her.
“Escape from whom?”
“Your grandfather.”
Margaret told us the story slowly.
Gabriel had grown up believing his father was a traveling businessman.
When he turned eighteen, Rose told him the truth.
He went looking for the Moretti family.
Vittorio refused to acknowledge him.
But Isabella welcomed him.
“She believed no child should be punished for the choices of adults,” Margaret said.
Luca lowered his eyes.
That sounded like the mother he remembered.
Gabriel began helping Isabella investigate the harbor accounts.
After the warehouse fire, he became her messenger.
“He was clever,” Margaret said. “And brave. But he trusted people too easily.”
“What happened to him?” I asked.
Margaret's fingers tightened around the edge of her chair.
“One night he went to meet someone who promised information about Vittorio's accounts. He never came back.”
Luca stood.
“Who was he meeting?”
Margaret looked toward the photograph.
“Celeste Bellini.”
The room went still.
At dawn, we traveled to the old summer estate.
Emily stayed at the mansion with Grace.
I hated leaving her, but she insisted she was fine.
“Find out what happened,” she told me. “Then come home.”
Home.
The word felt complicated now.
For twenty-four years, my home had been wherever Elizabeth and Emily were.
Now I was traveling with a man who might be my brother, searching for a mother who might still be alive, and trying to understand a family that had hidden its sins behind marble walls.
Luca sat beside me in the SUV.
He hadn't slept.
Neither had I.
“Are you afraid of what we'll find?” I asked.
“Yes.”
His honesty surprised me.
“Me too.”
He glanced at the faded photograph in my lap.
“I keep thinking about Gabriel.”
“You didn't know him.”
“No. But I should have.”
I looked at him.
“Maybe he thought the same thing about you.”
Luca stared out the window.
“Maybe.”
The Moretti summer estate stood behind overgrown trees.
The main house was little more than a shell of stone and ivy.
But behind it, on a small hill, stood a narrow brick observatory.
Its copper roof had turned green with age.
Inside, dust covered the wooden floor.
A brass telescope stood beneath a domed ceiling.
The place smelled of old paper and damp wood.
Luca looked around slowly.
“I remember this.”
He touched the telescope.
“My mother brought me here when I was little.”
Margaret smiled sadly.
“She said the stars were the only things your grandfather couldn't own.”
We searched the room for nearly an hour.
There were shelves of astronomy books.
A wooden cabinet.
A faded map of the constellations.
Nothing appeared unusual.
Then I noticed a small drawing pinned beneath the telescope stand.
It showed three birds flying toward a yellow moon.
Below them were four words in a child's handwriting.
Count the stars together.
I knelt.
The drawing looked familiar.
Elizabeth had kept something similar in her sewing box.
I'd always assumed it was mine.
But the handwriting was different.
“Luca,” I called.
He came over.
When he saw the drawing, his expression softened.
“I made that.”
I stared at him.
“You?”
“I was six.”
He touched one corner.
“My mother used to make me count the stars she drew around the birds.”
I counted them.
Eleven.
Luca counted again.
“Eleven.”
Margaret approached.
“Isabella always said the answer was the number of stars, not the number of birds.”
I examined the wooden telescope stand.
Eleven small brass studs surrounded its base.
One was slightly darker than the others.
I pressed it.
Nothing happened.
Luca joined me.
He pressed the studs in the pattern shown on the drawing.
A small compartment opened beneath the stand.
Inside lay a child-sized red mitten, a sealed envelope, and a narrow strip of photographic negatives.
Margaret began crying.
“Isabella.”
Luca opened the envelope.
The handwriting matched the note found in the wine cellar.
To my children:
If you are reading this, then at least one of you has found the path I left behind.
I am sorry for the years we have lost.
There are truths about your father that will hurt you. But I beg you not to let those truths destroy the kindness he wanted you to have.
Gabriel knows where the photographs were taken. Trust him if he is still alive.
And remember this: the greatest danger was never the Bellini family alone.
Luca stopped.
I leaned closer.
There was another sentence.
It was the person who taught Luca how to survive after I disappeared.
My eyes went to Adrian.
He stood near the doorway, studying the damaged shelves.
He had worked for Luca's family since Luca was young.
Adrian noticed us watching him.
“What?”
Luca folded the letter.
“Nothing.”
But I saw his expression change.
Back at the mansion, Vanessa was waiting in the smaller sitting room.
She had changed out of her engagement gown.
Without her diamonds, she looked younger.
And exhausted.
Luca placed the photograph of Gabriel on the table.
“Tell me about him.”
Vanessa glanced at the image.
Then closed her eyes.
“I was seventeen when I first saw that picture.”
“Where?”
“My mother's study.”
“What did she tell you?”
“That the boy was dangerous.”
“Was he?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“I don't know.”
I stepped forward.
“Did your mother meet him?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
Vanessa looked at me.
“The night he disappeared.”
Luca's jaw tightened.
“And you knew?”
“I was seventeen, Luca. I didn't understand what I was looking at.”
“Then tell us what you remember.”
Vanessa sat down.
“My mother came home that night with blood on her sleeve.”
My heart pounded.
“She told me she'd been in an accident. I believed her.”
Luca stared.
“What happened to Gabriel?”
Vanessa's eyes filled.
“I don't know. But I heard her arguing with someone on the telephone the next morning.”
“Who?”
“She called him Mr. Russo.”
I turned.
Adrian stood behind Luca.
He went completely still.
Vanessa looked at him.
“I didn't know his first name then.”
Luca slowly turned.
“Adrian?”
Adrian's face was pale.
He opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Finally, he said, “I was ordered to take Gabriel away from the estate.”
“By whom?”
“Your grandfather.”
Luca stepped closer.
“Where did you take him?”
Adrian's eyes glistened.
“To the river.”
I felt sick.
“Did you kill him?”
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
Adrian swallowed.
“I put him on a train to Montreal. Gave him money and told him never to come back.”
Luca looked stunned.
“You saved him?”
Adrian nodded.
“At least, I thought I did.”
Then he reached inside his jacket.
He removed a folded train ticket, yellowed with age.
On the back was an address written in Gabriel's handwriting.
“He sent this to me six months later,” Adrian said.
Luca took it.
“What is it?”
“An address in Albany.”
“Why didn't you tell anyone?”
Adrian looked at me.
“Because Gabriel said Isabella was alive. And he warned me that if I ever told Luca, Natalie would be killed.”
I stared at the ticket.
But Adrian wasn't finished.
He looked directly at Luca.
“There's something you need to understand.”
His voice broke.
“Gabriel didn't disappear because your grandfather wanted him dead.”
Luca frowned.
“Then why?”
May you like
Adrian lowered his head.
“Because your father ordered him to take the evidence and run.”
