Chapter 4 - THE HEADMISTRESS
The drive to the city felt like a descent into madness.
I wasn’t in the car. I was locked in Lily’s bedroom at the estate, holding the little girl as she slept, my mind racing with the horrific revelations of the night. But Marco’s frantic radio updates echoing from the security desk downstairs painted a terrifying picture of what was happening miles away.
Luca Moretti had descended on St. Jude’s Orphanage with twelve heavily armed men.
According to Marco’s radio chatter, they didn't knock. They shattered the heavy wooden doors of the gothic building at 11:45 PM, sweeping the dark, quiet halls with flashlights and drawn weapons.
I sat on the edge of Lily’s bed, listening to the static crackle on the emergency radio I had taken from the kitchen.
“First floor clear,” a guard’s voice crackled.
“Second floor clear,” another replied.
Then, Marco’s voice cut through the static, urgent and tight.
“Boss, we found the headmistress’s office. She’s locking the door from the inside.”
“Break it down,” Luca’s voice answered. It sounded cold. Lethal.
There was a loud crash over the radio, followed by the sound of splintering wood and a woman’s terrified scream.
I pulled the blanket tighter around Lily, my heart pounding against my ribs.
“Where is the boy, Sister Agnes?” Luca’s voice demanded. “The three-year-old boy Vincent Bellini pays you to hide.”
“I don't know what you’re talking about!” the woman cried. “This is a sanctuary! You can’t bring guns in here!”
“I’ll burn this sanctuary to the ground with you inside it if you lie to me again,” Luca promised. “Where is he?”
There was a long pause, broken only by the sound of heavy breathing.
“He’s not here, Mr. Moretti,” Sister Agnes finally confessed, her voice trembling.
“Where is he?”
“He was taken this morning,” the headmistress sobbed. “A woman came with the proper paperwork. She had Vincent Bellini’s signature of release. She took the boy.”
“What woman?” Luca roared. “Vanessa Bellini?”
“No! Not Vanessa!”
“Then who?!”
“She said her name was Isabella.”
The radio went completely dead.
I stared at the small black box in my hands, my blood turning to ice in my veins.
Isabella?
Isabella was dead. She had died in a burning car three years ago. I had seen the closed casket. I had stood next to Luca at the funeral while he wept.
It was impossible.
I waited for ten agonizing minutes, praying the radio would crackle back to life, but there was only silence. The security team had switched to a private channel.
Suddenly, the heavy oak door of Lily’s bedroom rattled.
Someone was trying the handle from the outside.
I froze, instinctively shielding Lily’s sleeping body with my own.
“Who is it?” I called out, my voice shaking.
“Hannah, it’s me. Open the door.”
It was Luca.
I quickly unlocked the door. Luca stepped inside. He looked like he had aged ten years in the last hour. His tailored suit was wrinkled, his tie discarded. He looked completely shattered.
“Mr. Moretti, I heard the radio,” I whispered, not wanting to wake Lily. “The headmistress… she said…”
“I know what she said,” Luca interrupted softly. He walked over to the bed and stared down at his sleeping daughter. He gently brushed a strand of dark hair from her face.
“Is it true?” I asked, my voice barely audible. “Could Isabella still be alive?”
Luca slowly reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. It looked like a receipt from the orphanage.
He handed it to me.
I unfolded it carefully. It was the release form Sister Agnes had mentioned. At the bottom of the page, signed in bright blue ink, was a signature.
Isabella Moretti.
I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand. I knew Isabella’s handwriting perfectly. I had sorted her mail and organized her desk for years. The sweeping ‘I’, the sharp cross of the ‘t’s.
It was identical.
“Someone forged it,” I breathed, staring at the paper. “Someone is using her name.”
“Or,” Luca said, his voice cracking with a terrifying mixture of hope and horror, “my wife didn't die in that car three years ago.”
I looked up at him. “But… the police. The coroner. They confirmed it was her vehicle. They found her wedding ring in the ashes.”
“Vincent Bellini is a powerful man, Hannah,” Luca said, pacing the room like a caged animal. “He owns judges, police chiefs, coroners. If he wanted to fake Isabella’s death to hide the boy and use my grief to marry his daughter into my family… he had the resources to do it.”
“But why would Isabella agree to fake her own death?” I asked, trying to piece the impossible puzzle together. “Why would she leave Lily behind?”
Luca stopped pacing. He looked at me, the dark circles under his eyes reflecting an agonizing realization.
“Because Vincent threatened Lily,” Luca whispered.
My heart dropped into my stomach.
“Think about it,” Luca continued, his voice picking up speed as the horrible truth snapped into place. “Isabella goes to the clinic. She delivers the boy. Vincent realizes she’s vulnerable. He tells her that if she ever tries to contact me, or if she ever tries to take the boy, he’ll have his men eliminate Lily. He stages the car crash, plants her ring, and forces her into hiding.”
I felt physically sick. The thought of Isabella, the kindest woman I had ever known, living in hiding for three years, believing her daughter’s life was in danger if she ever came home, was unbearable.
“But why did she take the boy today?” I asked. “Why now, after three years?”
“Because of the engagement dinner,” Luca said, his jaw tightening. “The press announced my engagement to Vanessa yesterday morning. Isabella must have seen it. She realized Vincent had finally won. He was moving his daughter into my house. Isabella knew Lily wouldn't be safe with Vanessa acting as her mother.”
Luca turned toward the door.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“I’m going to the wine cellar,” Luca said, pulling his gun from his holster. “Vincent Bellini is going to tell me exactly where he’s been keeping my wife for the last three years. And if he doesn't…”
Luca didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
I followed him to the door. “Mr. Moretti, wait.”
He turned around.
“I need to tell you something else,” I said, my hands trembling as I reached into my apron pocket. “While you were gone, I went to Vanessa’s suite to pack her bags, just in case.”
Luca frowned. “And?”
I pulled out a small, heavy object. It was a man’s silver pocket watch, heavily tarnished and deeply scratched.
“I found this hidden at the bottom of Vanessa’s jewelry box,” I said, handing it to him.
Luca took the watch. He stared at the scratched surface, his brow furrowing in confusion.
May you like
“This isn’t Vincent’s,” Luca muttered. “This belonged to my chief accountant. Arthur Rossi. The man who supposedly embezzled four million dollars from the family and vanished three years ago.”
“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, “Arthur Rossi vanished the exact same week Isabella died.”
