Chapter 3 - THE PHOTOGRAPH SHE TRIED TO BURN
The mention of Luca’s older brother, Matteo, sent a chill through the room.
Matteo Moretti had died in a tragic car accident five years ago. His death had nearly destroyed the family, leaving Luca to take over the empire at a young age. To speak his name in this house was to invite ghosts into the room.
“Why would Vanessa take a picture of Matteo?” Luca asked, his voice tight with confusion and rising anger.
Teresa’s hands were shaking so violently she could barely grip the edge of the table. “Because of what was in the background of the photograph, Luca. I told her... I told Vanessa a month ago that I was going to show it to you. That’s when she started locking me in my room.”
Luca’s posture completely shifted. He wasn't just a protective son anymore; he was the head of the family uncovering a betrayal.
“Hannah,” Luca said, turning to me. “Stay here with my mother and Evelyn. Lock the dining room doors.”
“Where are you going?” Teresa cried.
“To get that photograph back,” Luca said.
He didn't wait for an answer. He turned and sprinted out of the dining room, his footsteps echoing heavily against the marble floors of the grand foyer.
I quickly moved to the heavy oak doors and slid the brass lock into place. I turned back to the two older women. Teresa was struggling to breathe, clutching her chest.
“Mrs. Moretti, please try to calm down,” I said, pouring her a glass of water with trembling hands. “Luca will find it.”
Evelyn was watching Teresa intensely. She tapped the table to get her friend's attention, then began signing.
I translated softly. “She’s asking what was in the background of the picture, Teresa.”
Teresa took a sip of the water, coughing slightly. She looked at me, her eyes filled with years of repressed grief.
“It wasn't a picture of just Matteo,” Teresa whispered. “He was standing in the park. And holding his hand... was a little girl.”
I frowned. “A little girl? Did Matteo have a child?”
“No,” Teresa shook her head rapidly. “Matteo wasn't married. He didn't have any children. That’s what the police told us. But the day before he died, he brought that photograph to me. He said he had a secret to tell the family. He said he had fallen in love with a woman from the south side... and she had a daughter.”
My breath caught in my throat. The Moretti family was royalty in Chicago. A woman from the south side with a child out of wedlock would have been an absolute scandal.
“He was going to marry her,” Teresa cried. “He was going to adopt the little girl. But then the car crash happened. We never found out who the woman was. We never found the child.”
I stared at her in shock. “And Vanessa knew about this?”
“I showed Vanessa the picture,” Teresa sobbed. “I thought she would help me hire a private investigator to find them. Instead, she took the picture. She told me I was hallucinating. She said Matteo died alone.”
Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass echoed from the floor above us.
It came from the east wing. Vanessa’s suite.
I couldn't stay in the dining room. If Vanessa had a weapon, or if she tried to destroy the only evidence of Matteo’s secret family, Luca might do something he would regret.
“Lock the door behind me,” I told Teresa.
I ran out into the foyer and bolted up the grand staircase.
When I reached the hallway of the east wing, the door to Vanessa’s luxury suite was wide open. Marco, the security chief, was standing outside, looking uncomfortable as shouting erupted from within.
I peeked inside.
The suite was a disaster. Vanessa’s expensive designer clothes were thrown everywhere. Two large suitcases were open on the bed.
Luca had backed Vanessa against her vanity mirror. He was holding her by the shoulders, his face inches from hers.
“Where is it?” Luca roared. “Where is my brother’s photograph?”
“I threw it away!” Vanessa screamed, tears of panic streaming down her face. “It was garbage, Luca! Your mother was obsessing over a random child in a park! I threw it in the fireplace weeks ago!”
Luca let her go in disgust. He turned toward the cold stone fireplace in the corner of the room. He dropped to his knees, frantically digging through the cold, grey ashes with his bare hands.
Vanessa watched him, a cruel, triumphant smirk briefly flashing across her tear-stained face.
She had burned it. The proof was gone.
Luca stood up, his hands covered in soot. His chest heaved with absolute fury.
“You burned the only picture I had left of him,” Luca whispered.
“I was protecting our future!” Vanessa cried, stepping toward him. “Luca, think about it! If Matteo had a bastard child out there, they would have a claim to the estate! They would take what belongs to us!”
“Nothing belongs to you,” Luca snarled. “Get out of my house.”
Vanessa let out a frustrated scream, grabbing a handful of dresses and shoving them into her suitcase.
I stood in the doorway, my heart sinking. The photograph was gone. Teresa’s last hope of finding her son’s secret family had been turned to ash.
But as I watched Vanessa frantically packing, my eyes drifted to the beautiful antique mahogany desk in the corner of her room.
Vanessa had yanked the drawers open to grab her jewelry boxes, leaving them pulled out.
Something was stuck near the back of the bottom drawer. It wasn't a photograph. It was a piece of folded, brightly colored paper, jammed against the wood.
I didn't think. I just walked into the room, past Marco, past Luca.
“Hannah, get out of here,” Vanessa snapped at me.
I ignored her. I walked straight to the desk, reached into the bottom drawer, and pulled the jammed paper free.
It was a piece of cheap construction paper.
I unfolded it.
Drawn in bright, messy crayon was a picture of a house. Next to the house was a tall man, a woman, and a little girl holding a balloon.
But it wasn't the drawing that made my blood run cold.
It was the handwriting at the bottom.
Written in the clumsy, oversized letters of a six-year-old child were the words: To Auntie Vanessa. Thank you for the new shoes. Love, Mia.
I gasped, stumbling backward.
Luca immediately turned to me. “Hannah, what is that?”
I held the drawing up. My hands were shaking so badly the paper rattled.
“She didn't burn the photograph because she thought it was garbage, Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, staring at Vanessa in sheer horror.
Vanessa’s face drained of all color. She lunged forward to grab the paper, but Luca stepped between us, snatching the drawing from my hand.
He read the messy handwriting.
He slowly looked up at Vanessa.
“You know where the child is,” Luca realized, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper.
“Luca, please,” Vanessa begged, backing against the wall.
“You’ve known where my brother’s daughter is this whole time,” Luca said, taking a step toward her. “You’ve been secretly paying them off to stay away.”
Vanessa shook her head violently. “No! I was protecting you! The mother is a gold digger! She wanted to extort the family!”
“If she was extorting us, she would have come to me,” Luca said coldly. “But she didn't. Because you found her first. You found my niece.”
Before Vanessa could speak, Luca turned to Marco.
“Marco. Lock her in this room. She doesn't leave until she gives me an address.”
“You can't hold me here!” Vanessa screamed.
Luca didn't answer. He grabbed my arm and pulled me out into the hallway, slamming the bedroom door shut behind us. We could hear Vanessa screaming and throwing things against the wood.
Luca looked down at the crayon drawing in his hands. His eyes were wide with a desperate, frantic hope.
May you like
“I have a niece,” he whispered.
He looked at me. “Hannah. We have to find her tonight.”
