Chapter 9 - MY MOTHER WAS NEVER A THIEF
I stared at the small wooden box in Luca’s hands.
It was carved with beautiful, intricate sunflowers.
“She gave this to you on Sunday?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
Luca nodded.
“I went to see her before she passed,” he explained gently. “I didn't tell you because she swore me to secrecy. She knew her heart was failing, Hannah. She knew she didn't have much time.”
My vision blurred.
I took the box from him.
The wood was smooth, worn down by years of my mother holding it.
I opened the latch.
Inside was a stack of legal papers, wrapped in a rubber band, and a letter.
I opened the letter first.
My beautiful Hannah,
If Luca has given you this box, it means the truth is finally out in the open. It means you are safe.
For thirty years, I couldn't give you the life you deserved. But I saved every single penny I could.
I never touched the Bellini money. But I saved my own.
Inside this box is the deed to a small storefront on 4th Avenue. It was always my dream to open a bakery. Now, it belongs to you and Caroline.
Bake the cinnamon rolls, sweetheart. Make people happy.
And let Luca take care of you. He is a good man.
I love you forever.Mama.
I pressed the letter to my face and sobbed.
She had bought us a future.
Caroline wrapped her arms around me, both of us crying tears of grief, but also overwhelming relief.
Our mother wasn't just cleared of the Bellini’s accusations.
Her dignity was entirely restored.
The next morning, my mother’s funeral was held.
It wasn't small.
Luca paid for everything.
The church was filled with thousands of beautiful, pristine white carnations.
The entire Moretti family, their friends, and hundreds of people from our neighborhood attended.
Teresa stood at the front and delivered a eulogy that left not a single dry eye in the building, calling Dorothy Collins a hero who saved their lives.
I stood by the casket, holding Caroline’s hand.
I looked at my mother one last time.
I didn't feel the crushing guilt anymore.
I felt only pride.
After the burial, as the crowd dispersed, Luca walked up to me beneath the large oak tree by the grave.
He was wearing his black suit, looking handsome and solemn.
“It was beautiful,” I told him, looking at the mountain of white flowers. “Thank you, Luca. For everything.”
“You don't have to thank me, Hannah,” he said quietly.
He reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
His touch sent a warm shiver down my spine.
“The storefront on 4th Avenue,” Luca said. “It needs a lot of work. The roof leaks, the floors are warped.”
I smiled softly. “I know. Caroline and I are going to start cleaning it tomorrow.”
Luca shook his head.
“No, you aren't.”
I frowned. “What?”
“My construction crews are already there,” Luca said, a genuine smile breaking across his face. “They’ll have it fully renovated in three weeks.”
I gasped, covering my mouth. “Luca, you can't pay for that—”
“It’s a debt my family owes yours,” he insisted. “And besides… I want to see you bake.”
My heart fluttered.
I looked into his dark eyes, realizing for the first time that the way he looked at me wasn't just as an employee.
Or a protector.
He looked at me like I was the most important person in the world.
“Come on,” Luca said, offering me his arm. “Let’s go see your bakery.”
We drove to 4th Avenue.
The storefront was small, nestled between a bookstore and a flower shop.
When I unlocked the front door, the smell of old dust and vanilla hit me.
It was perfect.
I walked behind the old wooden counter, tracing my hand along the edge.
But as I walked past the large, industrial oven in the back, I noticed a large cardboard box sitting in the corner, taped shut.
Written on the side in my mother’s handwriting was my name.
I pulled a box cutter from my purse and sliced the tape.
I opened the flaps.
May you like
And I stopped breathing.
Inside the dusty cardboard box, wrapped in protective plastic, was a breathtaking, vintage white silk wedding dress.
