Chapter 5 - WHAT VANESSA MADE ME SIGN
“Tell me exactly what happened, Emma.”
Luca pulled out the chair beside his mother.
I sat because my knees didn't feel steady enough to keep standing.
Last Tuesday, Vanessa had called me into the breakfast room.
She'd been organizing household inventories for the upcoming wedding.
There were lists of silverware, linens, antique serving dishes, and furniture that needed to be moved for the event.
“She asked me to confirm that I'd checked the silver serving trays,” I explained.
Luca listened without interrupting.
“I told her I hadn't counted them yet.”
“What did she say?”
“She said the count had already been completed and she only needed my signature for the records.”
I looked down.
“I signed at the bottom of the sheet.”
Vanessa spoke immediately.
“That's normal housekeeping procedure.”
I turned toward her.
“Then why did you take the sheet away before I could see the completed inventory?”
Her expression hardened.
“Because I had things to do.”
Mrs. Carter stepped forward.
“That's not how we normally handle inventory, Miss Bellini.”
Vanessa stared at her.
The older housekeeper continued.
“Miss Lawson always checks the items herself. I trained her to do that.”
Luca looked at me.
“Did you recognize the document you signed tonight?”
“No, sir.”
“Did you witness my mother signing a property agreement?”
“Never.”
He nodded.
“Then your name shouldn't be on it.”
I felt my throat tighten.
Enzo folded his arms.
“A resemblance between signatures doesn't establish anything.”
“No,” Luca replied. “Which is why the original records and their history need to be examined.”
He looked toward Daniel.
“Make sure Emma's statement is recorded accurately. Nobody is to pressure her into changing it.”
Daniel nodded.
I glanced toward Vanessa.
She looked almost offended.
“You're treating your maid as though she's more trustworthy than your future wife's family.”
Luca stared at her.
“You're not my future wife.”
The words settled heavily between them.
For a moment, Vanessa looked as though she'd forgotten the engagement was over.
Then her face tightened.
“You're going to regret making everything so public.”
Luca didn't answer.
He looked toward Mrs. Carter instead.
“Please make sure Emma receives proper care for her arm tonight. And arrange paid leave if she needs it.”
“Yes, Mr. Moretti.”
I pressed my lips together.
For the first time that evening, I felt as though someone had taken a weight off my shoulders.
But Teresa was still staring at the property agreement.
“I want to see Antonio's old records,” she said.
Matteo looked surprised.
“Mom?”
“Your father kept everything.”
She slowly rose.
“Every repair bill. Every employee's birthday. Every dollar he owed.”
Her eyes moved toward Enzo.
“Especially money he owed other people.”
Enzo's expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I noticed.
Teresa turned toward Luca.
“Would you come with me to the study?”
He offered his arm.
“Anywhere, Mom.”
Matteo followed.
Luca looked at me.
“Emma, would you come too? You've been present for most of this.”
I nodded.
Vanessa took a step forward, but Luca stopped her.
“You and your father may leave. Any disagreement about the agreements can be handled formally.”
Enzo closed his portfolio.
“This isn't finished.”
“No,” Luca replied. “It isn't.”
Daniel remained with them while we crossed the hallway.
Antonio's old study had been kept almost exactly as he'd left it.
There was a broad wooden desk, a brown leather chair, and shelves filled with old automotive manuals.
A faded photograph of Luca and Matteo as boys stood beside a small model of a red pickup truck.
Teresa stopped in the doorway.
For a moment, her face softened.
“Antonio used to complain that this room was too quiet.”
Luca smiled sadly.
“Dad complained about everything being too quiet.”
“He said a house without children running through it wasn't much of a house.”
Matteo looked at the photograph.
“We broke that truck twice.”
Luca gave a short laugh.
“Three times.”
For a few seconds, they sounded like brothers again.
Then Teresa approached the desk.
She opened the bottom drawer.
Inside were several worn folders, an old leather ledger, and a collection of family photographs.
She selected one.
It showed two young men standing outside a small automotive repair shop.
Both wore work shirts.
Both had grease on their hands.
One was Antonio Moretti.
The other was Enzo Bellini.
I stared at the photograph.
They looked happy.
Not like casual acquaintances.
Like men who had built something together.
Luca took the picture.
“When was this?”
“1981,” Teresa replied.
Matteo leaned closer.
“Dad never showed me that.”
“He didn't enjoy talking about those years.”
Luca looked toward his mother.
“Why?”
Teresa sat in Antonio's old leather chair.
She held the photograph between her hands.
“Your father and Enzo were very close once.”
“How close?” Luca asked.
Teresa looked at him.
“They opened the garage together.”
Matteo went still.
“What?”
“Your father knew how to fix engines. Enzo knew how to find customers and manage accounts.”
She looked down at the photograph.
“For a while, they made a wonderful team.”
Luca frowned.
“Then what happened?”
Teresa's eyes filled.
“They stopped agreeing about what kind of business they wanted.”
“Over money?”
“Over people.”
She looked toward the hallway.
“Enzo wanted to cut wages when business slowed. Antonio refused.”
Matteo lowered his head.
Teresa continued.
“Your father said the men who repaired cars beside him weren't numbers in a ledger.”
Luca sat on the edge of the desk.
“What happened after that?”
“Antonio bought Enzo's share.”
“Did he pay him?”
Teresa looked almost offended.
“Every penny.”
“Then why does Enzo still want the property?”
Her eyes rested on the photograph.
“Because some people can accept losing money. They can't accept losing the place they thought they'd someday control.”
Matteo slowly sat down.
And I noticed something else.
The old photograph had once been attached to a second photograph.
There were two faded tape marks along the edge.
“Mrs. Moretti,” I asked, “was there another picture beside this one?”
Teresa nodded.
“Antonio and the employees. Taken the same day.”
“Where is it?”
She looked through the drawer.
Then through the folder.
Her expression grew troubled.
“That's strange.”
“What?” Luca asked.
Teresa looked up.
“Vanessa borrowed both photographs yesterday.”
She held up the one showing Antonio and Enzo.
“She returned this one.”
Then she looked directly at Matteo.
“But she kept the picture of your father standing with his workers.”
May you like
Matteo's face changed.
And Teresa whispered, “I think I know why.”
