Chapter 5 - THE BOX MY MOTHER LEFT BEHIND
The safety-deposit box was inside a private bank in downtown Chicago.
Luca offered to accompany me.
I almost refused.
Then I realized I didn't have to choose between trusting him completely and shutting him out entirely.
"Come with me," I said.
His expression softened.
"Of course."
We traveled with an independent attorney named Rebecca Ellis.
She had no connection to either family.
I'd insisted on that.
For the first time in my life, I wanted someone whose loyalty belonged to the law rather than my father's reputation.
The bank manager verified the documents.
Then led us into a secure room.
Box 214 was small.
Ordinary.
Nothing about it suggested it could destroy two powerful families.
I inserted the key.
The lock turned.
Inside were three envelopes.
A photograph.
And a flash drive.
The first envelope contained a letter addressed to me.
My darling Eleanor,
If you're reading this, I hope you have grown into the brave woman I always knew you could become.
My eyes filled.
I hadn't heard my mother's voice in eleven years.
But I could hear it in the words.
Your father has been using Bennett Maritime to move money for men who hurt innocent people.
I swallowed.
I discovered transfers connected to the Moretti family, but not all Morettis were involved.
I looked toward Luca.
He remained silent.
I continued.
Matteo Moretti helped me collect evidence. He wanted to expose the crimes.
My heart stopped.
Matteo.
Luca's older brother.
The man Andrew Keller allegedly murdered.
If anything happens to me, tell Matteo's family the truth. He was trying to protect us.
I pressed the letter against my chest.
Luca looked devastated.
"My brother knew your mother."
I nodded through tears.
Then I opened the second envelope.
It contained financial records.
Transfers.
Shell companies.
Property deeds.
And a list of names.
Andrew Keller.
Richard Bennett.
Several former Moretti executives.
And one name I didn't recognize.
Victor Salazar.
Luca leaned closer.
His expression changed.
"Victor Salazar."
I looked up.
"Who is he?"
Luca's jaw tightened.
"He's the man who handled security for Matteo the night he died."
The room went cold.
I opened the third envelope.
Inside was a photograph of my mother standing beside Matteo Moretti.
A small child stood between them.
A little girl.
Maybe five years old.
Dark hair.
Brown eyes.
I stared.
"Who is that?"
Luca leaned closer.
Then went completely still.
The little girl looked exactly like me at that age.
But the photograph was dated only six years earlier.
Five years after my mother supposedly died.
I couldn't breathe.
Because the child wasn't me.
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And on the back, my mother had written:
Eleanor must never know about her sister until it's safe.
