Chapter 5 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Luca spent the night in custody.
Elena spent the night refusing to believe the evidence.
"He was fourteen," she told Marco.
Marco paced Luca's library.
"Old enough to touch a gun."
"Not old enough to murder Adrian's mother and hide her beneath a church."
"Tell that to a jury."
Thomas sat nearby, still pale from surgery.
"Carlo used Luca's fingerprints."
Elena turned.
"How?"
"Children touch things. Carlo kept weapons everywhere."
Marco nodded slowly.
"He could have planted the gun."
"But why?"
Thomas looked toward Elena.
"Insurance."
Against Luca.
Against Adrian.
Against anyone who someday asked questions.
Carlo Moretti had built his empire on leverage.
Even against his own children.
Elena looked toward Isabella's photograph.
"We need her."
Thomas sighed.
"If she's alive."
"She is."
"How can you know?"
Elena picked up the portrait Isabella had painted of her.
"The paint."
Everyone looked at her.
"This pigment wasn't manufactured until 2021."
Thomas stared.
"You're sure?"
"I'm an artist."
Marco leaned closer.
"So Isabella was alive within the last five years."
"More recent."
Elena scraped a tiny area near the edge.
"The varnish is less than two years old."
Thomas whispered, "My God."
Elena looked at him.
"You said Isabella sent you a note twenty-eight years ago. If she survived, where would she go?"
Thomas thought.
"Somewhere Carlo couldn't reach."
"Outside the country?"
"Maybe."
Marco's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
"What?"
He handed the phone to Elena.
A woman spoke.
"Ms. Brooks?"
"Yes."
"My name is Sister Catherine."
Elena froze.
"I'm calling from St. Agnes Hospice in Wisconsin."
"Why?"
"We have a patient asking for you."
Elena's pulse raced.
"Name?"
The woman hesitated.
"Isabella Moretti."
They drove three hours.
Luca remained in custody.
Elena hated leaving Chicago without him.
But if Isabella could prove what happened, she was his best chance.
The hospice sat beside a lake.
Sister Catherine led Elena into a quiet room.
An elderly woman lay near the window.
Dark gray hair.
Thin face.
Those eyes.
Elena stopped breathing.
Isabella smiled faintly.
"Margaret's granddaughter."
Elena moved closer.
"You're alive."
"Barely."
"Why now?"
"Because Adrian found me."
Elena sat.
Isabella explained everything.
She had survived Carlo's attempt to kill her.
Thomas helped unknowingly by creating a false trail.
Margaret Brooks hid her for months.
Then Isabella moved from state to state.
Every few years, she changed her name.
She watched Luca from a distance.
Newspapers.
Television.
Business magazines.
She saw him become powerful.
Feared.
More like Carlo than she wanted.
But not completely.
"Why didn't you contact him?"
"Because Carlo left orders that would survive him."
"What orders?"
"If I returned, Luca would die."
"Carlo's dead."
"His network isn't."
Elena thought of Adrian.
"Did Adrian know?"
"Eventually."
"Did he threaten you?"
Isabella closed her eyes.
"He found me four years ago."
"What did he want?"
"Proof that I killed his mother."
"But you didn't."
"No."
"Did he believe you?"
"No."
Elena leaned closer.
"We found Celeste."
Isabella's eyes opened.
"Where?"
"Under St. Anne's."
A tear slid down Isabella's cheek.
"Carlo."
"You knew?"
"I suspected."
"We found the gun."
Isabella looked frightened.
"Then Adrian has it."
"The police do."
"No."
Isabella tried to sit up.
"Elena, listen to me. Carlo never killed Celeste with a gun."
Elena froze.
"What?"
"He strangled her."
"How do you know?"
"I saw him."
Elena's blood went cold.
"So the gun was planted recently."
"Yes."
"By Adrian."
"Probably."
That could free Luca.
But Elena needed proof.
"Will you testify?"
Isabella looked toward the lake.
"If I do, everything becomes public."
"Your son could go to prison for murder."
That decided it.
Isabella nodded.
"Take me to him."
Chicago erupted when Isabella Moretti returned.
News helicopters followed the convoy.
Cameras gathered outside the courthouse.
Luca wasn't told.
Elena wanted to see his face.
He was brought into a private conference room.
Handcuffed.
Tired.
Furious.
Then the door opened.
Isabella entered.
Luca stopped.
No sound came from him.
For several seconds, mother and son simply stared.
Then Isabella whispered, "My boy."
Luca's face broke.
He crossed the room.
The guard started to object.
Elena stopped him with one look.
Luca wrapped his mother in his arms.
All the power disappeared from him.
He was fourteen again.
Isabella held his face.
"I'm sorry."
Luca shook his head.
"Don't."
"I should have come back."
"You survived."
"I left you."
"You survived."
He kept repeating it.
As if that alone could rebuild twenty-eight years.
Elena turned away to give them privacy.
Later, Isabella gave a sworn statement.
The gun evidence collapsed.
Security records placed Adrian near St. Anne's two nights before police discovered the weapon.
Luca was released.
But Adrian vanished.
Moretti Development accounts were emptied.
Twenty-seven million dollars disappeared.
And Elena's studio caught fire.
They arrived too late.
Flames poured through the roof.
Elena stood behind the barricade.
"No."
Luca held her back.
"My paintings."
"You can't go in."
"My grandmother's things are inside."
"Elena."
She fought him.
"Let me go!"
The roof collapsed.
She stopped.
Something inside her did too.
Luca wrapped both arms around her.
For the first time since the nightmare began, Elena cried.
Not loudly.
She simply folded against him as the building that had defined her life disappeared.
"I'm sorry," Luca whispered.
She couldn't answer.
Firefighters worked until dawn.
The studio was destroyed.
Almost nothing survived.
At sunrise, an investigator approached.
"Ms. Brooks?"
Elena wiped her face.
"Yes."
"We found something."
Inside a steel storage cabinet, protected from most of the fire, was an old ledger belonging to Margaret Brooks.
Elena opened it.
Page after page contained names.
Isabella.
Thomas.
Carlo.
Then one name appeared repeatedly.
Adrian.
The final entry had been written shortly before Margaret died.
ADRIAN CAME TODAY.
HE KNOWS ELENA EXISTS.
IF HE EVER COMES BACK, LUCA MUST LEARN WHY ELENA WAS CHOSEN.
Elena looked up.
"Chosen for what?"
Isabella read the line.
Her face went white.
Luca noticed.
"Mother?"
Isabella closed the ledger.
"We need to leave."
"Why?"
"Because Margaret wasn't Elena's grandmother by blood."
Elena stared.
"What did you say?"
Isabella looked directly at her.
"Elena, your mother never told you who your real father was."
A black car suddenly stopped across the street.
The rear door opened.
May you like
Adrian stepped out.
And he was holding Elena's mother by the arm.
