Chapter 7 - The Choice Nobody Could Forgive
“Which child he was keeping?”
Luca repeated the words slowly.
Mia nodded.
“That's what Angelo said.”
“Did you understand it?”
“I was five. I thought I'd done something wrong.”
Her voice grew smaller.
“I thought maybe I hadn't been good enough at dinner.”
Luca pushed his chair back.
I thought he might start shouting.
Instead, he walked to the shop window and stood with his back to us.
His hands were shaking.
Mrs. Carter looked at Mia.
“Sweetheart, I wish I had known.”
Mia shook her head.
“You were kind to me. I remember.”
The housekeeper began crying.
“You remember me?”
“You gave me an orange after dinner. I was afraid to ask for dessert.”
Mrs. Carter covered her mouth.
Of all the things Mia could have remembered, she'd held on to a small kindness from a woman who hadn't even known her name.
Luca turned from the window.
“I'm going to speak to my father.”
Mia looked frightened.
“Please don't tell him I sent you.”
“You didn't.”
“He'll blame me.”
Luca crouched beside her chair.
“He doesn't get to do that anymore.”
She looked at his face.
“People have been telling me that about him my whole life.”
He nodded.
“Then I need to prove it.”
Outside, I followed Luca toward the car while Mrs. Carter stayed with Mia.
The cold air stung my cheeks.
“Mr. Moretti?”
He stopped.
“You don't have to decide what happens to Mia without asking her.”
He looked at me.
“I know.”
“She's spent her life being moved around by people who said they were protecting her.”
His expression softened.
“You're right.”
He glanced toward the shop.
“I was about to do the same thing.”
We returned inside.
Luca looked at Mia.
“Would you be willing to come to the house tomorrow? I want my father to explain himself in front of you.”
She hesitated.
“I'll think about it.”
“No pressure.”
“And I don't want Rose there.”
“I understand.”
That afternoon, Luca sent his driver to Lake Bluff with a message for Frank Moretti.
His father had been living there since Teresa's funeral.
They had barely spoken in three years.
But the message was simple.
Come to the kitchen. Your daughter deserves an answer.
Frank arrived the following morning.
I was polishing the old table when he entered.
He was seventy-two, broad-shouldered despite his age, with silver hair and a dark overcoat.
I recognized Luca's eyes immediately.
Frank looked at the exposed doorframe.
Then stopped.
“Who moved the cabinet?”
“I did, sir,” I said.
His expression tightened.
“Put it back.”
“No.”
Luca's voice came from behind him.
Frank turned.
“You're giving orders in my house now?”
Luca walked into the kitchen.
“It's my home. And you aren't hiding that doorway again.”
Frank stared at him.
Then at the measurements.
His face changed when he saw Mia's name.
“Your mother should have left that alone.”
“She loved her daughter.”
Frank closed his eyes.
Luca stepped closer.
“Tell me why you made us believe she was dead.”
The older man lowered himself into a chair.
For several seconds, he seemed unable to answer.
Then he looked toward the window.
“Your mother nearly died giving birth.”
“I know.”
“No. You know what I told you.”
Frank pressed his palms together.
“Someone tried to take your sister from the hospital.”
The room went silent.
I looked at Luca.
He hadn't moved.
Frank continued.
“There had been trouble between our family and men who wanted leverage against me. They knew Teresa was pregnant.”
“Who were they?”
“Men who are gone now.”
Luca leaned forward.
“What happened?”
“A man tried to enter the nursery using a forged visitor's badge. A nurse recognized him and called security.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
Frank looked down.
“Your mother was terrified. Evelyn Hale had worked in that hospital. She was a friend of Teresa's from years earlier.”
“Evelyn raised Mia,” Luca said.
“Yes.”
“Because you asked her to?”
“Because Teresa begged her.”
Luca looked shocked.
Frank continued quietly.
“We arranged for Evelyn to take the baby out of Chicago after the threat. Angelo Bellini helped find a safe place.”
“And you told me she died?”
Frank nodded.
“You were nine. You couldn't keep a secret. You'd have told your friends, your teachers, anybody who asked.”
“Then you should have told me when I was older.”
Frank stared at his hands.
Luca waited.
“Dad.”
“I know.”
“Did Mom agree to keep lying?”
“At first.”
I saw Mrs. Carter's face tighten.
Frank continued.
“She believed it would only be a few months. Then the threats continued, and months became years.”
Luca pointed toward the doorway.
“And when Mia turned five?”
Frank's eyes moved to the small pencil mark.
“Teresa wanted her home.”
“Did you agree?”
Frank remained silent.
“Answer me.”
“I said we would discuss it after Christmas.”
“Then Angelo took the suitcase.”
Frank looked startled.
Luca placed the photograph on the table.
The older man's hand trembled.
“Where did you get that?”
“From Mia.”
Frank stared at the little girl in the picture.
For a moment, something like grief crossed his face.
“She still has it?”
“Yes. She remembers everything.”
Frank touched the photograph.
“I never meant for her to remember that day.”
Luca's expression hardened.
“But you knew she would.”
Frank looked away.
I thought he might finally explain why Mia had been sent back.
Instead, he asked a different question.
“Does she have children?”
Luca stared at him.
“A daughter. Eight years old.”
Frank covered his eyes.
“Teresa told me.”
“You knew?”
“She showed me a picture before she died.”
Luca stood so abruptly that his chair scraped the floor.
“You knew Mom had a granddaughter. You knew Mia was alive. And you let me bury them both in my head.”
Frank looked up.
“I thought I was protecting you.”
“From what?”
The older man stared at the photograph again.
Then he said something that changed everything we understood about the past.
“By the Christmas Mia turned five, the men who threatened her were already gone.”
Luca went completely still.
May you like
Frank's voice dropped.
“There was no danger left to my daughter. Not when I sent her away.”
