Chapter 3 - THE KEY IN THE BIBLE
By eight the next morning, everyone in the mansion knew something had happened.
Nobody knew exactly what.
The kitchen staff whispered when I entered on crutches. Two drivers stopped talking. A florist carrying white roses stared at my bandaged knee, then quickly looked away. The engagement breakfast had been scheduled for ten, and Vanessa had apparently decided that no scandal was large enough to cancel a centerpiece.
I wanted to go home.
Instead, Luca asked me to meet him in the small breakfast room.
Rebecca was already there. Mrs. Carter sat beside her with untouched coffee. Daniel stood near the window. On the table lay the recorder, the flash drive, and every letter Vanessa had hidden.
Luca looked as though he had not slept.
“Sit, Hannah.”
I lowered myself carefully.
Rebecca pushed a plate of toast toward me. “Eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Neither am I. Eat anyway.”
For some reason, that almost made me smile.
Luca placed a legal pad in front of him.
“Your mother died ten years ago?”
“Nine.”
“Did she leave a safe-deposit box?”
“Not that I know of.”
“A storage unit?”
“No.”
“Attorney?”
“She barely had enough money for a funeral.”
Mrs. Carter looked down.
I noticed.
“What?”
She hesitated.
“Hannah, Ellen did have an attorney.”
My stomach tightened again.
“Who?”
“Samuel Price.”
Rebecca recognized the name.
“Dad’s estate lawyer.”
Mrs. Carter nodded.
Luca reached for his phone.
Daniel said, “He retired twelve years ago. Lives in Wisconsin now.”
“You checked?”
“Before sunrise.”
Luca gave him a tired look.
“Call him.”
Daniel stepped into the hall.
I stared at Mrs. Carter.
“How much else did my mother hide?”
“She was trying to protect you.”
“I’m getting tired of hearing that.”
Mrs. Carter flinched.
I regretted the sharpness immediately, but not enough to take it back.
Before anyone could answer, Vanessa entered.
She was fully dressed in ivory trousers and a cashmere sweater, flawless as always.
Her eyes went to my crutches.
Then to the documents.
“I see the staff meeting has become a family council.”
Rebecca leaned back.
“You weren’t invited.”
Vanessa smiled.
“This is still my fiancé’s house.”
Luca did not look at her.
“Not for much longer if you keep entering rooms after I ask for privacy.”
Her expression tightened.
Then she looked at me.
“I assume Hannah has explained how her mother conveniently worked for your father.”
I gripped the crutch handle.
Luca’s voice hardened.
“Don’t.”
Vanessa ignored him.
“Did she also explain why nobody mentioned it during the eleven months she worked here?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Of course.”
Rebecca pushed back her chair.
“Say what you’re trying to say.”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“Fine. I think Hannah came here deliberately.”
Heat climbed my face.
“For what?”
“Access.”
“To what?”
“My home. Luca’s records. His family.”
“This isn’t your home,” Rebecca said.
Vanessa’s eyes flashed.
“Not yet.”
That single phrase exposed more than she intended.
Luca finally looked at her.
“Not yet?”
Vanessa recovered quickly.
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m starting to think I don’t.”
She turned to me again.
“You expect us to believe your mother spent six years inside Moretti Holdings, disappeared with confidential documents, and never told you?”
“Yes.”
“How useful.”
I stood too quickly.
Pain buckled my leg.
Rebecca caught my arm.
Vanessa watched.
For one humiliating second, I was balanced on one foot while the woman who had caused my injury looked at me as though weakness proved guilt.
Then Luca rose.
He walked around the table, took one of my crutches, and placed it securely beneath my arm.
“Sit down.”
I did.
He turned toward Vanessa.
“You will not question her again.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“From the housekeeper you pushed down the stairs?”
“From a family that may have stolen from yours.”
Mrs. Carter slammed her palm against the table.
“Enough.”
Everyone stared.
She had worked in the mansion for twenty-three years. I had never heard her raise her voice.
“Ellen Miller saved Antonio more than once. She kept records when his own brother was selling information. She sat with Lucia during chemotherapy. She drove Rebecca to school when I had pneumonia. Do not stand in this house and call her a thief.”
Vanessa’s face changed.
“Lucia?”
Luca noticed.
“You didn’t know my mother knew Ellen?”
Vanessa looked away.
The contradiction was small, but it mattered.
If her father had told her everything about the Moretti history, why had that surprised her?
Daniel returned.
“I reached Samuel Price.”
Luca put the call on speaker.
An elderly man answered after three rings.
“Luca?”
“Yes, Mr. Price.”
“I wondered how long it would take.”
Rebecca stared at the phone.
Luca said, “You knew about the recording?”
“No. But I knew about Ellen Miller’s instructions.”
I leaned forward.
“What instructions?”
The lawyer paused.
“Is Hannah there?”
“Yes.”
“Miss Miller, I’m sorry we’re meeting this way.”
“What did my mother leave?”
“Not money.”
Vanessa gave a soft, satisfied laugh.
Luca looked at her until she stopped.
Price continued.
“Your mother deposited a sealed archive with Lakeshore National Bank. The bank was instructed to release it to you on your thirtieth birthday, or earlier if two conditions occurred.”
“What conditions?”
“The death of Vittorio Bellini or the announcement of a marriage between Luca Moretti and any Bellini descendant.”
Everyone went quiet.
Luca’s engagement had been announced six weeks earlier.
“So I can get it now?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t anyone contact me?”
“They tried.”
My stomach dropped.
“Who?”
“The bank sent certified notices to the address on file.”
“I moved last year.”
“Your mother included a secondary contact.”
I looked at Mrs. Carter.
She shook her head.
Price said, “Rebecca Moretti.”
Rebecca went pale.
“I never got anything.”
Vanessa started toward the door.
Daniel moved in front of it.
Luca’s voice became very quiet.
“Sit down, Vanessa.”
She stopped.
“You cannot seriously think I stole bank notices.”
Rebecca stood.
“You stole my letters.”
“I intercepted private correspondence because you were sabotaging my engagement.”
“Thank you for admitting that.”
Vanessa’s face tightened.
Luca returned his attention to the phone.
“What does Hannah need to access the archive?”
“A key and her identification.”
“What key?”
“Ellen kept it.”
I laughed helplessly.
“My mother has been dead nine years.”
Price sounded almost amused.
“Then look in the one place she told me you would never willingly open.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“She said you would understand.”
I didn’t.
Not until Mrs. Carter whispered, “The Bible.”
My mother’s Bible.
It sat in a cardboard box at the top of my bedroom closet. I had moved it through three apartments without opening it because the last time I saw my mother alive, she had been reading from it in a hospital bed.
Two hours later, Luca’s driver stopped outside my building.
I insisted I could go alone.
Luca ignored me.
Rebecca came too.
So did Daniel.
My landlord watched from the lobby as three black SUVs blocked half the curb.
“Hannah,” he called. “Rent.”
My face burned.
“I know.”
“You said Friday.”
“I’ll have it.”
He looked at Luca’s suit, Rebecca’s coat, Daniel’s earpiece, then back at me.
“You can afford cars like this but not seven hundred dollars?”
The humiliation landed exactly where Vanessa’s had.
Before Luca could speak, I said, “They’re not mine.”
My landlord snorted.
“Of course not.”
Luca reached for his wallet.
I caught his wrist.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I said I’ll pay Friday.”
Something in his expression softened.
He put the wallet away.
Upstairs, my apartment looked painfully small with all of them inside it.
I dragged a chair toward the closet.
Daniel immediately took it from me.
“Absolutely not.”
Rebecca climbed instead.
She pulled down the box marked MOM.
My hands shook when I opened it.
The Bible lay beneath a scarf and two birthday cards.
I touched the worn leather cover.
Then opened it.
Nothing.
I flipped through Psalms.
Nothing.
Genesis.
Nothing.
Rebecca watched quietly.
“Maybe inside the binding?”
I turned the book over.
A thin line ran beneath the back cover.
Daniel handed me a pocketknife.
I lifted the leather.
A small brass key dropped into my palm.
Attached to it was a paper tag.
LAKESHORE NATIONAL — BOX 314.
Rebecca exhaled.
“We found it.”
Then Luca picked up the Bible.
“There’s something else.”
A photograph had been hidden beneath the same leather.
My mother stood outside Moretti Holdings beside Antonio Moretti.
Between them was a little girl.
Me.
Eleven years old.
I remembered the day.
My mother had told me we were visiting a dentist downtown.
On the back, in Antonio’s handwriting, were six words.
HANNAH MUST NEVER TRUST SALVATORE MORETTI.
Rebecca stared at the message.
“My uncle died twelve years ago.”
Luca turned the photograph over again.
“No.”
His face had changed.
“Salvatore died under another name.”
I looked at him.
Rebecca stared at him as if the dead had just walked through the apartment door and spoken to us all.
“What?”
May you like
Luca’s voice was barely audible.
“My uncle is alive.”
