Chapter 14 - THE HOUSE BECAME A HOME AGAIN
Three months later, Teresa Moretti had her bedroom back.
Not remodeled.
Not modernized.
Exactly as she wanted it.
Her old walnut bed.
Her wedding photograph.
Her late husband’s watch in the top drawer.
The pale-blue blanket folded across the foot.
I wasn’t technically a maid anymore.
After resigning, I spent six weeks helping my mother recover and assisting federal attorneys organizing my father’s papers.
Then Teresa offered me a job.
Not as staff.
As director of the Moretti Family Foundation’s new elder advocacy program.
“You bossed everyone around when I was kidnapped,” she told me. “Clearly management suits you.”
The foundation funded legal help for elderly people facing financial exploitation.
Teresa insisted the first office have blankets in every room.
Luca pretended not to be sentimental about it.
Nobody believed him.
Adrian moved back to Chicago.
Slowly.
Carefully.
He and Luca argued almost every day and had dinner together almost every Sunday.
Some wounds healed loudly.
Matteo accepted a plea agreement after prosecutors confronted him with my father’s ledger and Adrian’s files.
Carlo went to trial.
Vanessa cooperated for a reduced sentence.
She never apologized to me.
She did write Teresa one letter.
Teresa read it once.
Then placed it in a drawer.
“Are you forgiving her?” I asked.
Teresa considered.
“Eventually.”
“Does that mean you want her back in your life?”
“Good heavens, no.”
I laughed.
Teresa smiled.
“Forgiveness is not a spare key.”
That evening, the Moretti mansion hosted its first dinner since the engagement disaster.
No politicians.
No investors.
No chandeliers filled with strangers.
Just family.
My mother came.
Adrian brought dessert.
Marco brought terrible wine.
Teresa complained until Luca opened something better.
I was carrying dishes into the kitchen when Luca followed me.
“You keep avoiding me.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“For three months?”
“Yes.”
“That’s impressive.”
I smiled.
He leaned against the counter.
“Dinner with me.”
“We just had dinner.”
“Alone.”
My heartbeat changed.
“Luca…”
“Hannah.”
He stepped closer.
No threats.
No billionaire confidence.
No mafia-boss command.
Just a man waiting for an answer.
“You were my employer.”
“Past tense.”
“Your family is complicated.”
“So is yours.”
“You’re older than me.”
“I noticed.”
“That doesn’t bother you?”
“Does it bother you?”
I tried to answer.
Nothing came.
He smiled.
“Tomorrow. Seven.”
“That sounded like an order.”
“Six thirty?”
I laughed.
“Seven.”
His smile changed.
Softer.
Real.
Then Teresa shouted from the dining room.
“Hannah, if he’s proposing in there, tell him absolutely not. He hasn’t even taken you on a proper date!”
I covered my face.
Luca closed his eyes.
“Mother.”
She yelled back.
“I’m seventy-eight, not deaf!”
I laughed until my stomach hurt.
Then Luca looked at me.
And something warm settled between us.
Not danger.
Not obligation.
Possibility.
But just before we returned to dinner, Marco appeared in the doorway holding an envelope.
His expression was strange.
“Boss, this came for Hannah.”
I opened it.
Inside was a handwritten note from my father.
Not a copy.
Not from the bank box.
An original letter nobody had ever found.
May you like
The first line read:
IF HANNAH EVER MEETS LUCA MORETTI, TELL HER I ONCE TRUSTED HIS FATHER WITH MY LIFE.
