Chapter 7 - The Letter Beneath the Floorboards
Marco Bellini had vanished.
By sunrise, every train station, airport and highway camera available to Rico’s network had been checked.
Nothing.
His phone was off.
Bank accounts untouched.
Apartment empty.
It was as if the nervous restaurant manager had stepped outside reality.
Clara sat at Rico’s kitchen island drinking coffee.
She had slept approximately forty minutes.
Leo sat beside her eating pancakes.
For reasons nobody understood, he insisted his pancakes be cut into stars.
Clara obliged.
Rico entered.
“You're encouraging him.”
“I'm feeding him.”
“He's going to demand star-shaped food forever.”
“He's three.”
“Exactly.”
Leo pushed one pancake toward Rico.
“Dad star.”
Rico looked at Clara.
She smiled.
“Congratulations. You're encouraging him now.”
Rico ate it.
Leo grinned.
For one tiny moment, the house felt normal.
Then Dante entered.
“Nothing on Marco.”
The normal moment disappeared.
Clara looked at Leo.
“Can Rosa take him to the playroom?”
Rico nodded.
After Leo left, Clara placed Elena’s letter on the counter.
“We’re missing something.”
Rico sat.
“Several somethings.”
“Why would Marco have a photograph calling him Elena’s brother?”
“Maybe they grew up together.”
“With Margaret Santoro?”
“Possibly.”
Dante leaned against the counter.
“Marco's records begin at sixteen.”
Clara looked up.
“What before that?”
“Nothing.”
“Like Elena.”
“Yes.”
Rico's eyes narrowed.
“Altered records.”
“Looks that way.”
Clara studied the photograph.
“Maybe Marco wasn't helping Vittorio.”
Rico frowned.
“Why run?”
“Because somebody wanted him to.”
Dante shook his head.
“He stole Elena’s drive.”
“We don't know that.”
“He had access.”
“So did many people.”
Clara pointed to Elena’s letter.
“She trusted Gabriel enough to leave him this. She trusted Sofia. She left instructions for me.”
Rico looked impatient.
“Your point?”
“She knew Marco.”
“So?”
“If he was the enemy, why meet him the morning she died?”
Rico paused.
Clara continued.
“Maybe she went to him because she trusted him too.”
Dante considered this.
“Then who broke into the penthouse?”
“Someone who wanted us to blame Marco.”
Rico looked at the photo again.
“And someone who conveniently left evidence in his car.”
Clara nodded.
“Exactly.”
Rico’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered without speaking.
A distorted voice said, “You should stop looking.”
Rico signaled Dante.
Trace.
The caller continued.
“You already lost your wife.”
Rico's face changed.
“Who are you?”
“Lose the waitress next?”
Clara went cold.
Rico stood.
“If you touch her—”
The line disconnected.
Dante shook his head.
“Burner.”
Clara stared at Rico.
“You didn't need to threaten them on my behalf.”
“I absolutely did.”
“I can protect myself.”
“From anonymous people who killed my father and possibly my wife?”
“Point taken.”
Rico paced.
“They know you're here.”
“Not surprising.”
“They knew immediately.”
Clara understood.
“Someone is still inside.”
Rico looked toward the hallway.
Staff.
Security.
Housekeepers.
Drivers.
People who had served the Moretti family for years.
One of them might be reporting everything.
Clara suddenly remembered something.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Leo found Elena's hidden compartment.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He saw the star.”
Rico nodded.
“Maybe Elena showed him.”
“He was two.”
“Children remember strange things.”
Clara looked toward the playroom.
“Maybe she showed him other things.”
Rico’s expression shifted.
They found Leo building a tower.
Rico sat on the floor.
“Hey, buddy.”
Leo put a block on Rico’s knee.
“House.”
“Very nice.”
Clara sat opposite.
“Leo, did Mama show you stars?”
Leo nodded.
“Where?”
He pointed randomly upward.
“Stars.”
Clara smiled.
“Not sky stars.”
She drew the four-pointed symbol on paper.
Leo immediately touched it.
“Mama secret.”
Rico looked at Clara.
“Where is Mama’s secret?”
Leo pointed toward the hallway.
Rico followed him.
The boy walked into Elena's bedroom.
Then toward the rug.
He sat.
“Here.”
Rico moved the rug.
Nothing.
Leo tapped the floor.
“Under.”
Dante arrived with tools.
One floorboard was slightly loose.
Rico lifted it.
Inside was a narrow metal case.
Clara exhaled.
“Elena really didn't trust closets.”
Rico almost smiled.
He opened the case.
Letters.
Dozens.
All written to Leo.
One for each birthday.
Age four.
Five.
Six.
All the way to eighteen.
Rico's hands shook.
“She knew.”
Clara whispered, “Knew what?”
“That she might die.”
He sat on the floor.
Clara touched his shoulder.
The first envelope was marked:
For Leo’s father, if I am not there.
Rico stared at it.
Then opened it.
Rico,
If you're reading this, then the future I was afraid of arrived.
He swallowed.
Clara sat beside him.
You will blame yourself.
Don't.
Rico stopped.
He closed his eyes.
Clara felt his entire body tighten.
After six months, Elena had reached through paper and told him the one thing nobody else could.
Don't.
He continued.
The danger existed before you.
I didn't marry you because of your name.
I married you despite it.
A tear slipped down Rico's cheek.
He wiped it quickly.
There are truths I kept because I believed silence protected you.
I was wrong.
Silence protects secrets, not people.
Clara looked away, giving him privacy even while sitting inches beside him.
Find Marco.
Rico immediately looked up.
Dante leaned closer.
He is not your enemy.
Clara whispered, “I knew it.”
Rico continued.
Marco was raised beside me for seven years. Margaret took us both after Samuel died.
He is not my biological brother, but he is my family.
If something happens to me, Vittorio will blame him.
Rico read faster.
Don't believe it.
Marco knows where the complete records are.
But he will only reveal them to Clara.
Clara stared.
“Why me?”
The next line answered.
Because Marco promised our mother he would never give them to a Moretti.
Rico actually laughed once.
“Your family really trusted mine.”
“Can you blame them?”
He couldn't.
The letter continued.
There is another person you must not trust.
Rico slowed.
Someone whose loyalty belongs to Vittorio.
Clara leaned closer.
But the next line had been cut from the page.
Physically cut.
Someone had removed the name.
Dante cursed.
Rico examined the paper.
“This was done recently.”
“How do you know?” Clara asked.
“The edge is clean.”
“Who knew the box existed?”
“Nobody.”
A sound came from the doorway.
They turned.
Rosa, Leo’s longtime nanny, stood there.
She looked pale.
“What happened?” Rico asked.
Rosa stared at the open floor.
Then at the letters.
“I told her not to hide them there.”
Rico rose slowly.
“You knew.”
Rosa began crying.
“I promised.”
“What else did you know?”
“Mr. Moretti—”
“Everything.”
Rosa covered her mouth.
Clara moved closer.
“Rosa, Elena is dead. Secrets aren't protecting her anymore.”
The older woman looked at Clara.
“You look like Evelyn.”
Clara froze.
“You knew my mother?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I worked for Margaret.”
The room fell silent.
Rico whispered, “How long have you been inside my family?”
“Twenty-six years.”
Rico stared.
Rosa had been presented as a nanny after Leo’s birth.
But apparently she had entered their lives long before.
“You were sent to watch Elena.”
“To protect her.”
“By whom?”
“Antonio.”
Rico’s father.
Rico sank back onto the bed.
Rosa continued.
“After Antonio died, I stayed near Vittorio because it was the only way to know what he was planning.”
Dante stepped forward.
“You were spying?”
“Yes.”
“For Elena?”
“For all of you.”
Rico looked at the cut letter.
“Who removed the name?”
Rosa shook her head.
“Not me.”
“Who does Elena warn me about?”
Rosa stared at him.
Fear appeared in her eyes.
“I cannot say.”
Rico’s expression changed.
“Cannot or will not?”
“She'll kill Leo.”
Clara felt cold.
“She?”
Rico leaned forward.
“The ghost is a woman?”
Rosa immediately realized her mistake.
Dante moved toward the door.
Rico stopped him.
“Rosa. Name.”
The nanny trembled.
“I promised Elena.”
“ELENA IS DEAD.”
Leo began crying in the hallway.
Rico immediately lowered his voice.
Rosa wiped her face.
“Exactly.”
Clara put the pieces together.
Someone female.
Someone close to the family.
Someone who knew the house.
The routes.
Elena’s secrets.
Someone who had been around for years.
“Sofia?” Clara whispered.
Rosa shook her head.
“No.”
Rico stared.
“Then who?”
Rosa looked toward the family photographs on the dresser.
One photograph showed Rico as a teenager.
His father.
His mother.
Vittorio.
And another woman standing slightly behind them.
Rico followed Rosa’s gaze.
His face became white.
“No.”
Clara pointed.
“Who is she?”
Rico’s voice barely worked.
“My aunt.”
“Vittorio’s wife?”
“No.”
He stared at the smiling woman.
“His daughter.”
Rosa whispered her name.
“Isabella.”
Clara frowned.
“Where is she now?”
Rico didn't answer.
Dante did.
“She died fifteen years ago.”
Rosa shook her head.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
Rosa's voice trembled.
“Isabella Moretti never died.”
And then Rico’s phone rang.
He answered.
A woman's voice said only:
“Hello, cousin.”
Rico's blood turned cold.
The caller continued.
“You've been digging through dead people's secrets.”
A pause.
“Now I'm going to give you one chance to stop before I take something living.”
From the playroom came the crash of a door.
Then silence.
Rico ran.
Clara followed.
They reached the room.
The window was open.
Rosa screamed.
May you like
And Leo Moretti was gone.
---
