[COMPLETED] The Mafia Boss's Aunt Fired His Maid for Defending a Stranger—Then He Recognized the Woman She Tried to Turn Away

By breakfast, the news had traveled through the house without anyone openly discussing it.

The dining room had been cleared, but a faint smell of candles remained. I arranged Luca's newspaper beside his coffee, then caught myself staring at the familiar routine. Less than twenty-four hours earlier, my job had nearly vanished because I'd offered a chair to a woman no one was allowed to recognize.

Luca came in carrying the blue cloth book. He had not slept much. The pages were open to the photograph of Anna and Grace.

"Has Grace eaten?" he asked.

"She asked for toast upstairs. The cook took it to her."

He nodded. "Good. Don't make her come down for anyone."

I hesitated. "And Anna?"

"She's in the guest suite. She's free to leave whenever she wants. Nobody is to stop her or make promises on her behalf."

He noticed my expression. "You think that's obvious."

"I think it should have been obvious thirteen years ago."

Luca studied me for a second, then set the book down. "So do I."

At ten, he invited Anna and Celia into the library. I wasn't expected to attend, but Anna asked me to sit beside her. Luca agreed. A family lawyer named Daniel Price arrived with a folder Celia had instructed him to bring. His careful manner suggested he'd spent the drive preparing to say as little as possible.

The first page showed an authorization for temporary caregiving, signed at St. Agnes Hospital. Anna recognized her signature. The document allowed Celia to make day-to-day decisions while Anna recovered from surgery. It included a time limit.

"Forty-five days," Luca read.

Anna nodded. "I was told six weeks."

"And what happened after that?" he asked.

Daniel turned to the next sheet. "A petition for extended guardianship was filed."

"By whom?"

"Mrs. Celia Moretti."

"On what grounds?"

The lawyer looked uncomfortable. The petition alleged that Anna had disappeared, refused contact, and abandoned the child. It referred to the temporary arrangement as evidence of an intention never to return.

"I came back," Anna said. "I went to the house where Celia was staying. Her staff wouldn't let me in."

Celia folded her hands. "You were unwell. You kept changing your mind."

"I was recovering from surgery. That's not the same as abandoning my daughter."

Luca turned another page. It listed several attempted notifications sent to an address Anna said she'd stopped using months before Grace's birth. She had never received them. Celia insisted the addresses were the ones on file.

"Who chose where to send those notices?" Luca asked.

Daniel said he'd have to review the original instructions.

"Do that. And preserve every letter, envelope, and receipt."

For the first time, Celia's confidence seemed less certain. She looked at me as though I had introduced this inconvenience by refusing to leave the room.

"Emma has no reason to be here," she said.

"Anna asked her," Luca replied. "That is enough."

I kept my hands folded in my lap. I was relieved to have his support, but I didn't mistake it for a solution. Anna still hadn't been given a chance to explain what happened when she was nineteen, and Grace had grown up believing a woman she could now see was dead.

Daniel continued through the records. The guardianship had never been converted into an adoption, as far as the copies showed. The court's later orders had restricted contact under allegations that Anna might disrupt Grace's stability. Neither Anna nor Luca had been told the complete history of those orders.

"Does that mean she can take Grace home now?" I asked.

"Not automatically," Daniel said. "The court will need to review the facts. More importantly, Grace is thirteen. Her needs and wishes must be heard."

Anna lowered her head. "I'm not asking anyone to carry her out of the house. I want to be allowed to know her."

"I want an independent lawyer for Grace," Luca said. "Not one employed by my family. And Anna should have her own lawyer, paid without conditions."

Celia objected. "You're turning this into a public scandal."

"It became a scandal when a child was told her mother had died."

Daniel removed one final paper from the folder. It was a statement supporting Celia's petition, dated shortly after the original temporary authorization expired. It described Anna as unwilling to parent and said several relatives agreed that Celia should keep Grace.

Luca reached across the desk and took the document.

His eyes moved down the page. Then he stopped.

"What is this?"

"A witness statement," Daniel answered.

"I can read that. I'm asking why my name is on it."

I leaned slightly forward. At the bottom of the page, beneath a paragraph endorsing Celia's account, was a signature written in a firm, slanted hand.

Luca Moretti.

Anna looked at her brother. Her face drained of color.

"You signed that?"

He shook his head immediately. "No."

Celia stared at the document. "That was thirteen years ago. Perhaps you've forgotten."

Luca placed the paper flat on the desk, his fingertips pressing down each corner.

"I remember my own signature," he said. "And I remember where I was that month."

"Luca—" Celia began.

"I have never told a court my sister abandoned her daughter."

The room fell silent.

He looked at Daniel again. "I want the original, not a copy. I want every filing connected to it. Until then, nobody here is going to call my sister a liar."

Anna covered her eyes. I wanted to reassure her, but nothing I could say would undo what she'd endured. The document had placed her brother on the wrong side of a case he hadn't even known existed.