Chapter 10 - The Man Who Stole the Moretti Name
For the first time, Aleandro Moretti questioned the history of his own family.
Carlo Moretti wasn't his uncle.
At least, not by blood.
The numbers hidden inside Elena's locket led investigators to an old private bank account.
The account belonged to Carlo Venturi.
A man who had joined the Moretti family business decades earlier.
According to the recovered records, Carlo had changed his name after marrying a distant relative of Isabella's husband.
Following that marriage, he began presenting himself as Antonio's brother.
The relationship had never been legally or biologically accurate.
But within the family's criminal organization, titles mattered more than blood.
Aleandro stared at the documents.
"My father called him family."
Rebecca nodded.
"That seems to have been part of how Carlo gained influence."
Elena felt cold.
"So he wasn't just stealing money."
"No," Rebecca answered.
"He was positioning himself to control family assets and charitable accounts."
Detective Mitchell uncovered additional evidence.
Carlo had arranged transfers through companies connected to medical facilities.
Those companies received payments while Lucia was hidden under the name Laura Mills.
The scheme continued long after Antonio died.
Someone had been maintaining it.
Elena gripped the table.
"Carlo kept paying to hide my mother."
Mitchell nodded.
"That is consistent with the records."
Aleandro looked devastated.
"All those years, I believed my aunt was dead."
Elena turned toward him.
"You were a child when she disappeared."
He shook his head.
"But I became an adult. I inherited the organization. I should have questioned more."
Elena studied him.
He'd spent years being feared.
Yet now he looked like a man realizing fear had blinded him to everything that mattered.
"Then question it now," she said.
He looked up.
Her voice trembled, but she continued.
"Don't defend something just because it carries your family's name."
Aleandro remained silent.
Then nodded.
"You're right."
The following week, investigators traced several final payments to a community medical program in Pennsylvania.
The program had assisted former long-term patients who lacked family support.
One woman had been registered under the name Laura Mills.
The photograph in her file showed a middle-aged woman with dark brown hair.
Her face was thinner than Lucia's old pictures.
There were lines around her eyes.
But Elena recognized the necklace-shaped scar near her collarbone.
Isabella had described it.
Lucia had suffered the injury as a teenager.
Elena stared at the photograph.
"My mother."
Rebecca nodded carefully.
"It may be."
Detective Mitchell arranged contact with the program's caseworker.
Her name was Emily Porter.
She remembered Laura Mills.
"She was quiet," Emily explained. "Very polite. She liked painting trees."
Elena's heart tightened.
"Willow trees?"
Emily looked surprised.
"Yes."
Tears filled Elena's eyes.
"Where is she now?"
Emily hesitated.
"Laura left the program about five years ago."
"Did she have somewhere to go?"
"She said she was looking for her daughter."
Elena covered her mouth.
"She remembered me?"
Emily nodded.
"Not everything. But she remembered a baby. A silver necklace. And the name Elena."
Elena began crying.
For twenty-two years, she'd believed her mother had forgotten her.
But Lucia had been searching.
Just like Elena.
Emily continued.
"We helped her contact a missing-person support organization. Unfortunately, the records were incomplete."
"Where did she go afterward?"
Emily opened an old file.
"The last address we had was in Queens."
Elena froze.
Queens.
The borough where she lived.
Emily read the street name.
Elena's heart began pounding.
The address was familiar.
Too familiar.
She looked at Aleandro.
"That's my street."
He stared.
"What?"
Elena swallowed.
"That building is two blocks from my apartment."
Her mother had been living nearby.
Possibly for years.
Then Emily added one final detail.
"Laura volunteered at a small animal rescue."
Elena's eyes widened.
"Basil?"
Aleandro frowned.
"What?"
"My cat. I adopted him from a woman who ran an animal rescue."
Her hands began trembling.
The woman had been kind.
Quiet.
With dark hair and tired eyes.
She'd hugged Elena before handing over the orange kitten.
And she'd whispered something Elena had never forgotten.
Take care of him, sweetheart. Sometimes the things we save end up saving us.
May you like
Elena looked toward the detective.
"I think I've already met my mother."
