Chapter 6 - THE DAUGHTER MICHAEL NEVER CLAIMED|
At ten-thirty the following morning, I sat in the back of Luca Moretti's SUV wearing the same black dress I'd worn beneath my maid's apron the night before.
I hadn't slept.
My mother was safe.
Teresa was with Aunt Rosa.
But Elena Salazar was missing, Nora was frightened, and Michael Moretti might have helped the very people threatening his daughter.
Luca sat beside me reading a message.
He'd changed into a black shirt and dark trousers.
The tattoos along his neck and hands were more visible without the formal suit.
He looked exhausted.
Yet every time his phone rang, his voice remained steady.
“Dominic, what's the latest?”
I watched him listen.
Then his jaw tightened.
“Understood.”
He ended the call.
“Any news?” I asked.
“Richard left his penthouse at six this morning.”
“Where did he go?”
“We don't know yet.”
“And Vanessa?”
“She's staying at one of his hotels.”
I looked out the window.
“Are you still engaged?”
Luca didn't answer immediately.
Then he removed a small velvet box from his coat pocket.
Inside was a diamond ring.
Vanessa's ring.
“She left it on the dining table.”
I stared at it.
“Did she say anything?”
“She said I was choosing my mother over our future.”
The words made my chest hurt.
“What did you tell her?”
He closed the box.
“That anyone who sees my mother as an obstacle doesn't belong in that future.”
I looked away quickly.
Not because I disagreed.
Because something about the way he said it unsettled me.
I'd worked in the Moretti mansion for almost a year.
I knew the servants' staircase.
The coffee preferences.
The rooms that had to be cleaned twice before important guests arrived.
But I'd never known Luca Moretti as anything other than the man who signed my paycheck.
Now I was beginning to understand why people followed him.
Not everyone.
Not all the time.
And not without fear.
But beneath the hard exterior was a man who had been taught to protect his family, even when the family itself had become the source of danger.
We arrived near Lincoln Park shortly before eleven.
Dominic had arranged discreet security around the café.
No obvious entourage.
No dramatic entrance.
Just a quiet table near the window.
Luca looked at me.
“If Nora gets frightened, let her speak.”
I nodded.
“I will.”
He glanced toward the entrance.
“She asked for you.”
“I know.”
“Do you understand why?”
I thought for a moment.
“Maybe because I listened to your mother.”
He nodded.
“Maybe.”
Then the door opened.
A young woman stepped inside.
Dark curls.
A gray sweater.
Jeans.
White sneakers.
She carried a canvas bag tightly against her chest.
I recognized her immediately from the photographs.
Nora.
She stopped when she saw Luca.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then she looked at me.
“Hannah?”
I stood.
“Yes.”
She crossed the room quickly.
And hugged me.
I barely had time to react.
Her shoulders were shaking.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I held her carefully.
“For what?”
“For not letting Grandma lose her home.”
My eyes filled.
“She's been asking about you.”
Nora pulled back.
“Is she really okay?”
“She's safe.”
The young woman nodded.
Then she turned toward Luca.
He stood slowly.
There was no intimidating expression.
No demand for respect.
Only an uncertain man looking at the niece he'd never known.
“Hello, Nora.”
Her lips trembled.
“Hi.”
Luca swallowed.
“You look like your grandmother.”
Nora gave a small, tearful laugh.
“Mom says I have the Moretti eyebrows.”
For the first time all morning, Luca smiled.
“Unfortunately, that's probably true.”
She looked at his face.
Then at his hands.
Then back at his eyes.
“Grandpa Giovanni showed me pictures of you.”
Luca went still.
“He did?”
She nodded.
“He was proud of you.”
I watched the words land.
Luca had lost his father eight years earlier.
Now a young woman he'd never met was giving him a piece of that relationship back.
“He told me you were stubborn,” Nora added.
Luca laughed softly.
“That sounds right.”
“He said you had a good heart.”
His smile disappeared.
Nora looked down.
“He said you just didn't always know what to do with it.”
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Luca pulled out a chair.
“Sit with us.”
Nora sat.
I took the seat beside her.
A waitress brought water.
Nobody touched it.
Luca leaned forward.
“Tell me about your mother.”
Nora's fingers tightened around her bag.
“She was at home Wednesday morning.”
“Did she call you?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“That she'd found the missing page.”
Luca frowned.
“What missing page?”
“A page from Grandpa Giovanni's financial records.”
Nora opened her canvas bag.
Inside was a worn notebook.
She placed it on the table.
“My mother kept copies.”
Luca opened the cover.
The first pages contained dates and payment amounts.
Several were marked with initials.
One set appeared repeatedly.
D.V.
Daniel Voss.
Another set.
R.B.
Richard Bellini.
And beneath them, a third.
M.M.
Michael Moretti.
Luca went completely still.
Nora watched him.
“My dad wasn't just scared of Richard.”
Luca looked up.
“He worked for him.”
She nodded.
“Years ago.”
“What did he do?”
Nora swallowed.
“He helped move money through construction companies.”
I felt cold.
“And when my grandfather refused to cooperate, the warehouse burned.”
Luca studied the records.
“Are you saying Michael started the fire?”
Nora shook her head.
“No.”
Then she looked directly at him.
“I'm saying he knew who ordered it.”
The café suddenly felt too small.
Luca turned another page.
“Why didn't your mother go to the police?”
“She tried.”
“What happened?”
“She was told the records weren't enough.”
Nora lowered her eyes.
“And the detective she spoke to called Richard afterward.”
Luca closed the notebook.
“Do you know his name?”
Nora nodded.
“Leonard Price.”
Dominic, seated at a nearby table, looked up at once.
Luca noticed.
“Dom?”
Dominic approached.
“Leonard Price retired from the Chicago Police Department twelve years ago.”
Luca frowned.
“You know him?”
“He works private security for Richard Bellini.”
My stomach dropped.
Nora started shaking again.
“I told you.”
Luca placed the notebook carefully on the table.
“Nora, do you have the missing page?”
She hesitated.
“No.”
“Where is it?”
“Mom hid it.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
She looked toward me.
“But she told me if anything happened, I should find Hannah.”
I stared at her.
“Why me?”
Nora wiped her cheeks.
“Because Grandma Teresa wrote to Mom about you.”
I blinked.
“She did?”
Nora reached into her bag.
She pulled out a folded letter.
On the front was Teresa's handwriting.
For Elena.
Nora handed it to me.
I unfolded it.
The first line made my throat tighten.
Dear Elena, I have finally found someone in this house who treats me like a person instead of a problem.
I stopped reading.
My eyes blurred.
Nora touched my arm.
“Keep going.”
I swallowed.
Her name is Hannah Collins.
She is twenty-five, and she works harder than anyone should have to work.
She takes care of her mother, and somehow she still finds time to sit with me.
If something happens to me, I believe she will tell Luca the truth.
A tear landed on the paper.
I wiped it quickly.
Teresa had trusted me more than I'd realized.
And now a woman I'd never met had made that trust part of her daughter's escape plan.
Nora looked at Luca.
“Grandma was afraid they were going to make her disappear.”
His expression changed.
“What do you mean?”
“She thought they'd move her somewhere without telling anyone.”
I remembered Teresa whispering that she wasn't supposed to have an address anymore.
The words suddenly made sense.
An isolated elder-care placement.
Restricted visitors.
A story about declining mental health.
And a legal petition transferring control of her property.
Luca's voice grew quiet.
“Who was arranging it?”
Nora looked down.
“Vanessa.”
I saw his jaw tighten.
“She'd already contacted a private facility.”
“Which one?”
Nora reached for her phone.
Then stopped.
Her face drained of color.
“What is it?” I asked.
She was looking through the café window.
Across the street, a gray sedan had pulled to the curb.
A man in a dark coat stepped out.
Nora grabbed my wrist.
“That's him.”
Luca looked toward the window.
“Who?”
Her voice broke.
“The man who took my mother.”
Dominic was already moving.
But before he reached the door, the man raised his phone.
Nora's phone vibrated.
A message appeared.
She stared at it.
Then began crying.
Luca leaned closer.
“What does it say?”
Her hands shook so badly she couldn't hold the screen steady.
I read the message aloud.
If you want Elena alive, stop talking to your uncle.
Below it was a photograph.
Elena sat in a chair in a windowless room.
Her face was pale.
Her hands were visible on the table.
And behind her stood a man whose face I recognized from the mansion's engagement dinner.
Richard Bellini's former police officer.
Leonard Price.
Nora looked at Luca.
“Please.”
Her voice shattered.
“Please don't let them hurt my mom.”
Luca took the phone.
Then he looked directly into his niece's frightened eyes.
“Listen to me.”
She swallowed.
“You've spent your whole life being told this family couldn't protect you.”
Nora nodded.
“That ends today.”
He placed the phone on the table.
“Your mother is coming home.”
And just as he said those words, another message appeared.
This one wasn't for Nora.
It was addressed to Luca.
May you like
Bring the original trust documents to the Bellini Hotel by six tonight.
Or Elena doesn't come home.
