Chapter 6 - THE NIGHT MY MOTHER SAVED A MORETTI

I spent three years believing my mother died without leaving me anything except debt.

Now I was discovering she'd once helped a missing girl escape one of New York's most dangerous families.

The revelation terrified me.

But it also made something inside me ache.

Because that was exactly the kind of person my mother had been.

When I was seven, she brought home a woman who'd been sleeping at the bus station.

When I was twelve, she volunteered to translate for immigrant families who couldn't afford attorneys.

And when I was nineteen, she used our grocery money to help a neighbor pay for emergency medicine.

She always said:

"Language is a bridge, Tessa. Never let someone turn it into a wall."

Now I understood she might have used that belief to save Lucia Moretti.

Matteo stared at the groundskeeper's statement.

"My sister left with Evelyn?"

Sofia nodded.

"That's what the witness recalls."

"Where did they go?"

"He saw a car leave through the service gate."

Matteo leaned forward.

"Who was driving?"

Sofia hesitated.

"Professor Lorenzo Bellini."

The room went silent.

I closed my eyes.

My mentor.

The man who had supported my scholarship.

The man who helped me study in Florence.

Had been involved from the beginning.

Matteo looked toward me.

"Tessa..."

I shook my head.

"Don't."

He stopped.

"I need a minute."

I stepped into the hallway.

My hands trembled.

I thought about the Florence years.

Professor Bellini's kindness.

The way he insisted I learn Sicilian dialects.

The unusual exercises.

The conversations he asked me to translate.

Had he been helping me honor my mother's work?

Or using me for something I didn't understand?

My phone rang.

Professor Bellini.

I answered immediately.

"Professor."

His voice was quiet.

"You found the chapel reference."

I closed my eyes.

"Yes."

A pause.

"Then it's time."

"For what?"

"To tell you what happened to Lucia."

I leaned against the wall.

"Is she alive?"

The silence lasted too long.

Then Bellini answered.

"Yes."

My knees nearly gave out.

"Where?"

"Florence."

I covered my mouth.

"She lived there?"

"Under another name."

I thought about all the people I'd met.

The students.

The teachers.

The musicians.

The librarians.

Then a memory struck.

A woman who taught violin at the university.

Dark curls.

A quiet smile.

A small scar near her left eyebrow.

Her name had been Laura Bellini.

The professor's niece.

Or so he told everyone.

My heart stopped.

"Laura?"

The professor exhaled.

"Yes."

I began crying.

For three years, I'd shared coffee with her.

Discussed literature.

Listened to her play music.

And never knew she was Matteo Moretti's missing sister.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because your mother asked me not to expose her identity until it was safe."

I swallowed.

"Does Lucia know who I am?"

A pause.

"Yes."

I covered my face.

Then whispered:

"Why did she stay away?"

Bellini's voice broke.

"Because the people searching for her threatened your mother."

My stomach turned.

"And when Mom got sick?"

He hesitated.

"Lucia wanted to return."

"What stopped her?"

Bellini took a shaky breath.

"The same man who arranged the six suspicious deaths."

I looked toward Matteo through the glass wall.

Then Bellini whispered:

"There's another reason Lucia couldn't come home."

"What?"

His answer made my blood run cold.

"She has a daughter."

I stopped breathing.

"And the child was born after she disappeared."

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Then he added:

"The girl's father is the man Matteo Moretti trusts more than anyone."