Chapter 2 - THE MAN IN THE BEDROOM
“Take those shoes off her, Hannah.”
Vanessa Bellini stood beside the dining table in a fitted red evening gown, staring at the little pair of brown leather shoes I'd just helped seventy-eight-year-old Teresa Moretti put on.
Thirty-six guests watched beneath the crystal chandeliers.
“Mrs. Moretti wanted to stand for the toast,” I explained.
Vanessa laughed.
“Oh, sweetheart. Look at her. She can barely get out of a chair without someone holding her up.”
Teresa lowered her eyes.
“I only wanted to stand beside my son.”
“And fall in front of everyone? Absolutely not.”
The old woman's fingers tightened around mine.
“I'm not going to fall.”
Vanessa sighed.
“Teresa, please. Stop being difficult.”
I looked down at her shoes.
The leather was worn near the toes.
One buckle had been repaired with a little piece of brown thread.
They weren't expensive.
But Teresa had asked me to find them three times that afternoon.
And I knew why.
My name is Hannah Collins. I'm twenty-five years old, and I've worked at the Moretti mansion in Chicago for eleven months.
I needed this job.
My mother was recovering from surgery, and every paycheck helped pay for the woman who came each morning to help her get dressed and prepare breakfast.
Vanessa knew that.
She'd already warned me twice about spending too much time with Teresa.
But something had been bothering me for nearly two weeks.
Teresa Moretti used to take a short walk through the house every morning.
She wasn't fast.
Her knees hurt.
Sometimes she needed my arm.
But she was proud of the fact that she could still walk to the dining room without a wheelchair.
Then, twelve days ago, she stopped.
She began asking me to bring everything to her.
Breakfast.
Her morning tea.
Even the little sewing basket she kept beside the sitting room window.
When I asked whether she was feeling worse, she shook her head.
Then she whispered something strange.
Hannah, am I still allowed to walk downstairs?
I'd thought she was joking.
Now I wasn't so sure.
“Hannah.”
Vanessa snapped her fingers.
“Remove the shoes.”
Teresa caught my wrist.
“Please, sweetheart. Just until Luca finishes his toast.”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“Teresa, you're seventy-eight years old. You don't have to prove anything.”
“I know.”
“Then stop pretending you can do everything you did twenty years ago.”
The old woman's cheeks turned pink.
“I'm sorry.”
Those two words made my chest ache.
Because Teresa Moretti had spent her entire life taking care of other people.
She'd worked beside her husband when they couldn't afford help.
Raised three children.
Cooked Sunday dinners for relatives who had nowhere else to go.
And spent the last forty years making sure everyone in this house felt welcome.
Now she was apologizing for wanting to stand beside her son.
“Mrs. Bellini,” I said quietly, “she can stand if I help her.”
Vanessa turned toward me.
“Excuse me?”
“She's been practicing.”
Vanessa laughed.
“Oh, sweetheart. You're a maid. Not a physical therapist.”
Several guests looked away.
My face grew hot.
“I understand.”
“Then remember who pays your salary.”
Teresa gently squeezed my fingers.
“It's all right, Hannah. Don't lose your job.”
Vanessa pointed toward the kitchen.
“Take those shoes off her, or you can pack your bags tonight.”
For a moment, I couldn't move.
I thought about my mother's medical bills.
The overdue electricity payment.
The groceries I'd promised to bring her that weekend.
Then I looked at Teresa.
And I left her shoes exactly where they were.
A chair moved at the head of the table.
“Why is Hannah being fired?”
Luca Moretti had stopped speaking to his uncle.
Thirty-six years old. Dark hair. Black tailored suit.
His voice was calm.
But the room immediately quieted.
Vanessa reached for his arm.
“Darling, your mother is insisting on standing for the toast, and Hannah keeps encouraging her to take unnecessary risks.”
Luca looked toward Teresa.
“Mom?”
She tried to smile.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
He walked around the table.
“Are you feeling all right?”
“I'm fine.”
Luca studied her.
“You used to tell me that whenever you wanted to hide something.”
A faint smile crossed her face.
“You remember that?”
“Of course.”
He pulled out the chair beside her.
“Then tell me what's wrong.”
Teresa looked down at her shoes.
“I wanted to stand for you.”
Luca smiled gently.
“Mom, you don't have to stand. I'm not the president.”
A few guests chuckled.
But Teresa didn't.
She stared at the tablecloth.
“I know.”
Then she whispered:
“I just wanted you to see that I still could.”
Luca's smile faded.
“Still could what?”
“Walk.”
The room became quiet.
Vanessa immediately interrupted.
“Luca, your mother has been struggling with her mobility. We've discussed this.”
He looked toward Vanessa.
“We discussed her knee pain.”
“It's getting worse.”
Luca turned back to Teresa.
“Mom, has it been getting worse?”
She hesitated.
Then shook her head.
“No, sweetheart.”
Vanessa sighed.
“Teresa, please don't make this difficult.”
Luca noticed the way his mother flinched.
He took her hand.
“Mom, when was the last time you walked downstairs by yourself?”
Teresa folded her napkin.
Once.
Then again.
The same nervous movement I'd watched her make whenever Vanessa came into her room.
“I don't remember.”
Vanessa smiled.
“See? That's exactly what I've been trying to explain.”
But Luca wasn't looking at her.
He was looking at his mother's shoes.
“Mom, are those the shoes Dad bought you for your fiftieth birthday?”
Teresa nodded.
“He said they were good walking shoes.”
Luca smiled.
“You wore them everywhere.”
“Everywhere,” she repeated softly.
Then her eyes filled.
“Until Vanessa took them.”
The smile disappeared from Luca's face.
“What?”
Vanessa immediately laughed.
“Teresa, I put them away because you kept trying to walk without assistance.”
Luca looked at his mother.
“Why would you need permission to wear your own shoes?”
Teresa stared at her hands.
“Because Vanessa said you'd be upset if I fell again.”
Luca became very still.
“Again?”
Nobody moved.
Vanessa folded her arms.
“Your mother had a little incident last month. We didn't want to worry you.”
Luca turned.
“What incident?”
“She lost her balance.”
“When?”
“While you were in New York.”
Luca looked back at Teresa.
“Mom, did you fall?”
The old woman slowly shook her head.
“No.”
Vanessa's expression hardened.
“Teresa, you know perfectly well what happened.”
Teresa looked frightened.
And then she reached for me.
“Hannah, tell him what you found.”
My stomach tightened.
Because three days earlier, while cleaning the little sitting room upstairs, I'd discovered Teresa's walking cane hidden behind a heavy wooden cabinet.
The same cane she'd used every day since her knee surgery.
When I'd returned it to her, she'd begun crying.
“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, “your mother's cane was taken away.”
Luca turned toward me.
“Taken away?”
I nodded.
“She told me she'd been looking for it.”
Vanessa snapped, “Hannah, that's enough.”
But Luca didn't raise his voice.
“I asked her a question.”
My hands trembled.
“I found it behind the cabinet in the upstairs sitting room.”
Luca looked at Vanessa.
“Why was Mom's cane hidden?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“Because she kept insisting on walking around when she needed to rest.”
“Did her doctor tell you to take it away?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“No, but—”
“Then who decided that?”
Nobody answered.
Teresa's hand tightened around mine.
And she whispered something that made my heart drop.
“Please don't let her take it again.”
Luca heard her.
“Mom?”
Her lips trembled.
“I don't like sitting alone all day.”
Something changed in his face.
“Why would you be sitting alone all day?”
Teresa looked toward Vanessa.
“She said I wasn't supposed to come downstairs unless someone came to get me.”
The dining room went silent.
Luca slowly turned toward his fiancée.
“You told my mother she couldn't come downstairs?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“I was trying to keep her safe.”
“From what?”
“From falling.”
Luca's voice remained calm.
“By taking away the one thing she uses to keep her balance?”
Vanessa said nothing.
Then Teresa began crying.
“Luca, I know you're busy.”
He immediately knelt beside her.
“Mom, look at me.”
She did.
“You don't have to ask anyone's permission to come downstairs in your own home.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
“I thought you didn't want to see me like this.”
He frowned.
“Like what?”
“Old.”
Nobody breathed.
Luca took both her hands.
“Mom, I watched you take care of Dad when he couldn't walk anymore.”
She nodded.
“You never once made him feel like a burden.”
Her face crumpled.
“Then why would you think I'd let anyone make you feel that way?”
Teresa began sobbing.
Vanessa looked away.
And for a moment, I thought that was the end of it.
That Luca had finally understood.
But then Teresa reached for my wrist.
“Hannah.”
I leaned closer.
Her fingers were cold.
“Tell him about Tuesday.”
My stomach dropped.
Because Tuesday was the day I'd found her sitting on the floor beside her bed.
She hadn't been injured.
But she'd been crying.
And when I helped her stand, she begged me not to tell Vanessa.
“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, “your mother tried to walk to the staircase on Tuesday.”
Luca looked at me.
“What happened?”
“She couldn't find her cane.”
Vanessa immediately interrupted.
“Because she shouldn't have been walking alone.”
I shook my head.
“She wasn't trying to go downstairs for dinner.”
Luca frowned.
“Then where was she going?”
I looked at Teresa.
She was trembling.
“To the front door, sir.”
Luca stared at me.
“Why?”
Teresa began crying harder.
“Because someone was waiting for me.”
Vanessa went completely still.
Luca turned toward his mother.
“Who, Mom?”
The old woman hesitated.
Then whispered:
“Your sister.”
Luca stopped moving.
“Sofia?”
Teresa nodded.
“She came on Tuesday.”
Vanessa stepped forward.
“Teresa, we've already discussed this.”
But Luca raised one hand.
“Let her speak.”
Teresa wiped her cheeks.
“Sofia called that morning. She said she wanted to come home and talk to you.”
Luca stared at her.
“My sister hasn't spoken to me in eight months.”
The old woman's eyes filled.
“She told me that.”
Luca frowned.
“What?”
Teresa squeezed my hand.
“She said she wasn't staying away because she wanted to.”
Vanessa's face reddened.
“Luca, Sofia has been making accusations for months. Your mother doesn't understand the situation.”
But Luca didn't look at her.
“Mom, did Sofia come to the house?”
Teresa nodded.
“I saw her through the window.”
Her voice broke.
“I tried to go downstairs.”
Luca leaned closer.
“What happened?”
“I couldn't find my cane.”
Nobody moved.
Teresa covered her mouth.
“And when I called for someone to help me, Vanessa came upstairs.”
Luca turned slowly toward his fiancée.
“What did you tell my mother?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“That Sofia wasn't welcome.”
Teresa shook her head.
“No, Vanessa.”
For the first time that evening, her voice became firm.
“That's not what you said.”
Vanessa went pale.
Teresa gripped Luca's sleeve.
“She told me Sofia had already left because you didn't want her here.”
Luca's expression changed.
“Mom, I never said that.”
Teresa began crying.
“I know that now, sweetheart.”
Then she looked toward me.
“Hannah, tell him what you heard.”
My heart started pounding.
Because I'd been polishing the silverware beside the dining room window that afternoon.
I'd heard Vanessa speaking to someone near the front entrance.
And I'd remembered one sentence.
He'll never believe you over me.
“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, “Mrs. Bellini spoke to your sister at the front door.”
Luca slowly stood.
“What did she say?”
I swallowed.
“She told Sofia that you knew everything.”
Vanessa's face went white.
Luca looked directly at her.
“Knew what?”
She couldn't answer.
Then Teresa suddenly caught his hand.
“Sweetheart, there's something worse.”
He knelt again.
“Tell me, Mom.”
The old woman's voice trembled.
“Sofia didn't come here to argue about the family.”
Luca frowned.
“Then why?”
Teresa looked toward Vanessa.
“She came because she found out why I haven't been allowed to walk downstairs.”
Nobody breathed.
Vanessa stepped backward.
Luca slowly turned.
“What does Sofia know about Mom's condition?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“Luca, please. Your sister is trying to turn you against me.”
But Teresa wasn't finished.
She pulled on Hannah's sleeve.
“Sofia told me she'd spoken to my physical therapist.”
Luca frowned.
“Dr. Reynolds?”
Teresa nodded.
“He said I was doing better than anyone expected.”
The room fell silent.
Luca looked confused.
“Then why did Vanessa tell me you were getting worse?”
Teresa began crying.
“Because someone canceled my appointments six weeks ago.”
Vanessa gripped the back of her chair.
Luca looked directly at her.
“Did you cancel Mom's therapy?”
She didn't answer.
Teresa continued.
“Sofia said the therapist tried to call you three times.”
Luca went completely still.
“Nobody called me.”
Teresa shook her head.
“That's what Sofia was afraid of.”
Luca stared at Vanessa.
“What exactly have you been keeping from me?”
Vanessa whispered, “I was trying to do what was best.”
But Teresa suddenly raised her shaking hand.
“No.”
The entire dining room went quiet.
The old woman looked directly at Vanessa.
“You wanted Luca to believe I couldn't walk anymore.”
Luca slowly stood.
“Why?”
Vanessa looked toward the man sitting beside her father.
The same man who had been unusually quiet throughout dinner.
Teresa saw it.
And her face changed.
“Hannah,” she whispered, “that's him.”
I leaned closer.
“Who, Mrs. Moretti?”
Her voice began trembling.
“The man who came to my room yesterday.”
Luca followed her eyes.
“What man?”
Teresa pointed toward the guest beside Vanessa's father.
“He told me that after the wedding, someone else would be making my decisions.”
The man lowered his glass.
Luca's expression hardened.
“Who gave you permission to discuss my mother's care?”
Nobody answered.
Then Teresa gripped Luca's wrist.
“Sweetheart, he didn't come to ask whether I needed help.”
Luca knelt beside her.
“What did he come for?”
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“He came to see whether I could still stand up and tell you what I remembered.”
Vanessa whispered, “Teresa, please.”
But the old woman shook her head.
“I heard him tell Vanessa that if I couldn't walk and people believed I was confused, nobody would listen to me.”
Luca went completely still.
“Listen to you about what, Mom?”
Teresa looked toward the man.
Then toward Vanessa.
And for the first time all evening, she stopped trembling.
“About what I saw the night your father died.”
The room fell silent.
Vanessa took a step backward.
Luca stared at his mother.
“Mom... what did you see?”
Teresa tightened her grip on my hand.
Then she looked directly at the man beside Vanessa's father.
“Hannah, help me stand.”
I carefully took her arm.
She rose slowly from the chair.
Her knees trembled.
But she stayed on her feet.
Then she pointed toward the man.
“Luca, that's the man who came into your father's bedroom the night before he died.”
The man's face went white.
Luca slowly turned toward him.
“You told me you'd never met my father.”
Teresa shook her head.
“Oh, sweetheart. He knew your father.”
Her voice broke.
“And your father knew exactly why that man had come.”
Luca looked at Vanessa.
Then at the man.
May you like
And asked the question that made both of them stop breathing.
“What did you need my mother to forget before I married Vanessa?”
