Chapter 7 - THE UNCASHED CHECK
Luca handed me the piece of paper.
It was an old, faded bank check. It was dated almost three years ago.
The amount was for fifty thousand dollars.
It was made out to my mother. Signed by Catherine Moretti.
“I don’t understand,” I stammered, staring at the numbers. “My mother died three years ago from cancer. We couldn’t afford her treatments.”
“Catherine tried to pay for them,” Luca said softly. “Your mother was Catherine’s favorite nurse at the oncology ward before Catherine met me. When your mother got sick, Catherine found out. She sent this check to help.”
Tears blurred my vision. “We never got it.”
“Because Vanessa intercepted the mail,” Luca said, his voice tightening with anger. “Vanessa handled all the outgoing charity accounts. She kept the money for herself and marked it as a donation. Catherine found out during her audit.”
I covered my mouth. My mother’s death... the crippling debt that forced my brother out of college and me into service jobs... it was all tied to Vanessa’s greed.
“Catherine wrote in her final letter that if anything happened to her, I was to find you and your brother,” Luca said. “She wanted to make sure you were taken care of. I didn’t know how to find you. You changed your last name after your mother passed.”
“I applied for this job through an agency,” I whispered. “It was random.”
“It wasn’t random,” Eleanor said gently, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I saw your mother’s obituary. I kept track of you, Emily. When Vanessa fired the last maid, I anonymously recommended you to the agency. I wanted someone in this house who understood loyalty.”
Answer one: My connection to the family wasn't an accident.
Open two: How do we move forward from this massive web of secrets?
Luca looked at me, a profound respect in his eyes.
“You stood up to my fiancée. You protected my daughter. You risked your job and your safety for a woman you barely knew.” Luca reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy envelope.
“Emily, you are no longer a maid in this house.”
He handed me the envelope.
“This is the fifty thousand dollars Vanessa stole from your family, with interest. Your brother’s nursing school is fully paid for.”
I broke down. The weight of the last three years—the fear, the poverty, the exhaustion—finally cracked. I sobbed into my hands.
Grace ran over and hugged my legs, burying her face in my apron.
“Please don’t leave us, Emily,” Grace begged. “Please stay.”
I looked down at the little girl who had become like a sister to me. I looked at Eleanor, who finally had her family back. And I looked at Luca, a man who had lost everything but was trying to rebuild.
“I’m not going anywhere, Grace,” I promised, wiping my tears.
May you like
Luca nodded. “Good. Because we are going to need help putting this family back together. Starting tomorrow.”
TITLE: The Sunday Morning Pancakes
