Chapter 10 - The Last Secret Caroline Left for Her Son|
For three years, Luca Moretti had visited Caroline's grave believing his wife was buried beneath the white marble.
Now someone was claiming she had survived the night everyone believed she died.
I stood beside him in the cemetery while Benjamin held a yellow flower.
The boy looked up at his father.
"Daddy?"
Luca immediately knelt.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Why do you look scared?"
Luca swallowed.
Then gently touched his son's cheek.
"Because I just heard something important, and I need to find out whether it's true."
Benjamin nodded.
"About Mommy?"
Luca's eyes filled.
"Maybe."
The little boy looked toward the grave.
Then whispered:
"I wish Mommy could come home."
Luca closed his eyes.
For a moment, he couldn't answer.
Then he hugged his son.
"I know, sweetheart."
I turned away, wiping tears from my cheeks.
The next morning, Luca met with his attorneys and independent investigators.
Dr. Victoria Bellini had agreed to provide a statement.
She claimed Caroline had been transferred from the private hospital shortly after her official death was recorded.
She also claimed the paperwork had been altered.
But her account was incomplete.
And the investigators warned that several documents required authentication.
Luca listened carefully.
Then asked:
"Who authorized the transfer?"
Dr. Bellini looked down.
"I was told it came from the family."
Luca's expression hardened.
"Which family member?"
She hesitated.
Then whispered:
"Your brother."
Michael.
The man who disappeared seven years earlier.
The man who visited Caroline on the night she supposedly died.
The man now connected to the fake placement documents involving Benjamin.
Luca slowly leaned forward.
"Why would Michael arrange this?"
Dr. Bellini shook her head.
"I don't know."
He studied her.
"Then why did you sign the death certificate?"
Her eyes filled.
"Because I was threatened."
"By whom?"
She looked toward the door.
Then whispered:
"Richard Bellini."
Silence.
For the first time, the connection became unmistakable.
Richard Bellini.
Vanessa's father.
The man who encouraged Luca to marry his daughter.
The man who helped arrange Benjamin's removal.
The man Caroline had warned Luca about.
The man who apparently wanted something hidden inside the Moretti family.
But why?
That afternoon, I returned to the mansion after visiting my mother.
She had agreed to speak with an attorney.
For the first time, she seemed ready to tell the complete truth about my father.
I found Benjamin sitting in the library with a photograph of Caroline.
He looked up.
"Miss Claire!"
I smiled.
"Hi, sweetheart."
He held out the photograph.
"Do you think Mommy was pretty?"
My chest tightened.
"Very."
He smiled proudly.
"She was."
Then he looked down.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"If Mommy comes back, will you leave?"
I froze.
For a moment, I couldn't understand the question.
Then I realized.
Benjamin had spent so much time losing people that even good news frightened him.
I sat beside him.
"Benjamin, your mother is someone nobody could replace."
He nodded slowly.
"And whatever happens, the adults will make sure you know what's going on and that you have people who care about you."
He looked at me.
"Even you?"
I smiled.
"I care about you very much."
He leaned against me.
For a moment, we sat quietly.
Then he whispered:
"I think Mommy would like you."
My eyes filled.
I kissed the top of his head.
"That would mean a lot."
Later that evening, Luca found me in the kitchen.
He looked exhausted.
But there was something different in his eyes.
Hope.
Not certainty.
Not yet.
But hope.
"Claire."
I turned.
"Yes?"
"I wanted to thank you."
I smiled faintly.
"For what?"
"For being there for Benjamin."
I looked down.
"He's easy to love."
Luca's expression softened.
"Yes."
He hesitated.
"Claire, I know this situation has become complicated."
I almost laughed.
"That's one word for it."
He smiled.
Then grew serious.
"I don't want you to feel trapped here because of your mother's financial situation."
My chest tightened.
"Sir—"
"Luca."
I looked up.
He gave a small smile.
"You can call me Luca."
For some reason, hearing him say that made my heart race.
He continued.
"I've asked the household office to review your salary and leave entitlements. Whatever happens next, you'll be treated fairly."
I swallowed.
"Thank you."
He nodded.
Then said something unexpected.
"And Claire?"
"Yes?"
"When all this is over, I'd like to know you as more than someone who works in my house."
My breath caught.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then he added carefully:
"But not while you're dependent on me for employment. I won't put you in that position."
My chest warmed.
For years, powerful men had been part of the world I served.
Men who believed money made everything possible.
Now Luca Moretti was acknowledging a boundary.
Offering me space.
Letting me choose.
I smiled faintly.
"Then maybe we can talk when things are less complicated."
He smiled.
"I'd like that."
For one beautiful moment, the mansion felt peaceful.
Then Marco entered.
His expression was pale.
"Boss."
Luca turned.
"What happened?"
"We found the facility where Caroline was supposedly transferred."
Luca went still.
"Where?"
"Outside New York."
My heart raced.
"And?"
Marco swallowed.
"The facility records show she was registered under another name."
Luca stared.
"What name?"
Marco looked down at his notes.
Then whispered:
"Eleanor Sullivan."
I stopped breathing.
Sullivan.
My surname.
My family.
Luca slowly turned toward me.
"Claire?"
I shook my head.
"I don't understand."
Marco continued.
"The name appears on several financial and medical records."
My heart thundered.
"Why would Caroline use my family's name?"
Luca looked as confused as I felt.
Then Marco spoke again.
"There's another document."
He placed a photograph on the desk.
It showed Caroline standing outside a small house.
Alive.
Smiling.
Holding a blue notebook.
Beside her stood a man.
Gray-haired.
Brown eyes.
A familiar crooked smile.
My father.
Thomas Sullivan.
I covered my mouth.
"Dad."
Luca stared.
The photograph was dated eighteen months earlier.
Long after Caroline supposedly died.
Long after my father was believed dead.
Both alive.
Together.
Then Marco said something that made the room go completely silent.
"Boss, the investigators found a bank account connected to Eleanor Sullivan."
Luca frowned.
"And?"
"Large transfers."
"From whom?"
Marco hesitated.
"Richard Bellini."
Luca's expression darkened.
"Why?"
Marco shook his head.
"We don't know."
I stared at the photograph.
Caroline.
My father.
The blue notebook.
Everything seemed to be connected.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered with trembling hands.
"Hello?"
A man's voice spoke.
Older.
Rougher.
But unmistakable.
"Claire?"
My knees weakened.
"Dad?"
A long silence.
Then the man began crying.
"My little girl."
I covered my mouth.
For thirteen years, I'd dreamed of hearing his voice again.
Now he was on the phone.
Alive.
"Where are you?" I whispered.
He swallowed.
"Somewhere safe."
"Why didn't you come home?"
His voice broke.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart."
Tears streamed down my face.
"You let me think you were dead!"
"I know."
"Mom knew!"
"I know."
I pressed a hand over my mouth.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Then he whispered:
"Claire, I need you to listen carefully."
I looked toward Luca.
He stood motionless.
"What?"
"Caroline Moretti is alive."
Luca stopped breathing.
I stared.
"Where?"
My father hesitated.
"She's with me."
The room went completely silent.
Then I heard a woman's voice in the background.
Soft.
Familiar from old home videos I'd seen with Benjamin.
"Thomas, let me speak to him."
My heart stopped.
Caroline.
I looked at Luca.
His face had gone white.
Then the woman spoke.
"Luca?"
He gripped the table.
"Caroline?"
She began crying.
"Oh, Luca."
For three years, he'd believed his wife was dead.
Now her voice filled the kitchen.
He couldn't speak.
Finally, he whispered:
"Where are you?"
A pause.
Then Caroline said:
"Somewhere Victor can't find us."
Luca frowned.
"Victor?"
The name made Marco look up sharply.
Victor Moretti.
Luca's uncle.
A man who supposedly died ten years earlier.
Luca's face changed.
"Caroline, Victor is dead."
She went silent.
Then whispered:
"No."
My stomach tightened.
Caroline continued:
"He's the one who arranged everything."
Luca gripped the phone.
"What everything?"
She took a shaky breath.
"The false death records. The financial transfers. Michael's disappearance."
My heart pounded.
"And Benjamin?" I asked.
Caroline immediately began crying.
"My baby."
Her voice broke.
"Is he safe?"
I looked toward the hallway.
Benjamin was upstairs with Mrs. Carter.
"Yes," I whispered.
"He's safe."
Caroline sobbed.
"Thank God."
Then she lowered her voice.
"Claire, there's something you need to know about your father."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"He didn't just help me escape."
I stared.
"What did he do?"
A pause.
Then Caroline whispered:
"He was the only person who knew who Benjamin's biological father really was."
The room went still.
Luca stared at the phone.
"What?"
Caroline began crying harder.
"Luca, please."
His voice broke.
"Caroline, what are you saying?"
A long silence followed.
Then she whispered:
"Benjamin was born before the marriage documents were finalized."
Luca shook his head.
"That doesn't change anything. He's my son."
Caroline sobbed.
"I know."
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
"But Victor believes Benjamin is the rightful heir to something your father stole."
Luca went completely still.
"What did my father steal?"
Caroline hesitated.
Then whispered:
"The original Moretti fortune."
Before anyone could answer, my father's voice returned.
"Claire, listen to me."
I gripped the phone.
"Dad?"
He sounded frightened.
"Richard Bellini knows you've found the notebook."
My heart raced.
"And?"
"He's coming for Benjamin."
I looked toward the staircase.
The boy was upstairs.
Safe.
Or so I believed.
Then my father whispered:
"Claire, there's someone inside the mansion helping him."
My stomach tightened.
"Who?"
A pause.
Then he said:
"The woman who's been caring for Benjamin since he was born."
I froze.
Mrs. Carter.
The seventy-year-old housekeeper.
The woman Benjamin trusted.
The woman who had worked for the Moretti family for decades.
I slowly looked toward the staircase.
Then Luca's phone rang.
Marco answered.
His face drained of color.
"Boss."
Luca turned.
"What?"
Marco swallowed.
"Mrs. Carter has taken Benjamin out through the east entrance."
The world stopped.
I stared toward the hallway.
"No."
Luca's expression became terrifyingly still.
"Where are they?"
Marco looked at his phone.
Then whispered:
"There's a car waiting outside the gates."
I began running toward the stairs.
But before I reached them, my phone vibrated.
A message.
A photograph.
Benjamin sitting in the back seat of a black car.
His face was pale.
But he was looking directly at the camera.
And in his hands was the pink ribbon that belonged to his mother.
Beneath the photograph were six words.
YOUR SON KNOWS WHERE THE NOTEBOOK IS.
Luca stared at the screen.
His eyes filled with something I had never seen before.
Not anger.
Not fear.
Something deeper.
The terror of a father about to lose his child.
Then another message arrived.
This time, it came from Benjamin's own phone.
Three words.
May you like
Daddy. Help me.
And somewhere beyond the mansion gates, a black car disappeared into the Chicago night.
