Chapter 6 - The Woman Who Kept the Copies

Celia Grant arrived at Naomi's office with a canvas bag clasped against her chest.

I hadn't expected to attend. But Celia had specifically asked to speak with the housekeeper who understood Italian. She said I might recognize the instructions recorded in her notes. Luca agreed only after Naomi explained that I was free to refuse and could leave at any time.

Celia was younger than I'd imagined, with tired eyes and a careful way of setting objects down. She placed a folder on the conference table and looked at me.

"I saw the dinner footage," she said. "Someone sent it to my phone. When you refused to kneel, I realized I wasn't the only one afraid of losing my job."

I did not know what to say.

Celia continued, "I wasn't brave. I stayed because I needed health coverage for my father. I told myself the documents were just business."

Her lawyer asked her to explain only what she personally knew. It was a sensible boundary, and the room grew quieter because of it.

Celia had scheduled consultations, downloaded progress summaries, and routed emails to Vanessa. She had not treated Sofia or altered any clinical findings. But she could identify messages in which Vanessa directed her to keep the reports out of Luca's inbox.

"This one is from five weeks ago," Celia said, pointing to a printed message. "She wrote: 'If he sees the standing numbers before the wedding, he'll cancel the arrangements.'"

"Did you ask what arrangements?" Naomi said.

"I did. She said the Italian consultant and the overseas placement."

Luca's hands lay flat on the table. I could see the tattoo across his knuckles shift as he pressed them against the wood.

Celia turned a page. "Then she instructed me to send Dr. Bianchi the earliest hospital discharge report instead of the latest outpatient assessment. I didn't know why at first."

Dr. Bianchi had never claimed Sofia's recovery was guaranteed. He had asked for current information precisely because old records would be insufficient. Vanessa had denied him the very details needed for an honest recommendation.

"Why did you resign?" I asked.

Celia looked down. "Because she asked me to prepare the cancellation letter with Mr. Moretti's signature from an old scanned form. I typed the letter. I refused to apply the image of his signature. The next day the letter had been sent anyway."

She did not claim to know who added it. That was important. A person could suspect wrongdoing without being able to prove every part of it.

Naomi asked Celia to preserve her original electronic messages and devices. Her attorney agreed to arrange a verified collection. The printed copies helped us understand events, but nobody wanted the case to depend on loose pages that could be dismissed as edited.

Then Celia produced an appointment note about a Swiss residential facility. The note described an evaluation for rehabilitation, but an internal email from Vanessa's office described the placement as "long-term separation from household decision-making." There was no evidence that the facility itself knew that phrase or had agreed to anything improper.

"Why write that?" Luca asked, his voice low.

"Vanessa said Sofia's constant presence made you sentimental," Celia replied. "She said once the wedding happened and Sofia was overseas, you would focus on the development project."

I watched Luca absorb each word. Anger would have been easy. Shame was what held him silent.

"She told me the child was deteriorating," he said finally. "When I asked questions, she brought me lists of medical terms and said the specialists were handling everything. I wanted to believe someone capable was helping."

"Your daughter wanted you to listen," I said.

He looked at me, and I saw he knew it was true.

We returned to the mansion near sunset. Dr. Ellis had already finished Sofia's session, and she had left a careful note: the exercises had gone well, but Sofia was tired and needed rest. No miraculous change. No new demand to perform. Simply another day of cautious work.

Sofia sat in the kitchen eating soup. She waved her spoon at me. "Emily! I did the transfers with less help today."

"That's wonderful," I said. "Did it feel easier?"

"A little. Dr. Ellis says not to count how fast."

"She's right."

Luca joined us and asked Sofia if she'd like him to attend the next appointment. She looked surprised that he was asking instead of announcing.

"You can come," she said. "But don't look worried the whole time."

"I'll try."

He sat beside her, loosening his tie. The scene was ordinary enough to hurt: a father and daughter eating soup at home. Nobody should have had to uncover a conspiracy to make it possible.

That night my mother called. She asked whether I'd received the money I needed for her prescription refill. I had sent it before dinner, using savings I'd kept for emergencies. I told her not to worry. Then I sat on the edge of my narrow bed in the staff wing and calculated how long I could survive without a paycheck.

The following morning Luca called me into his office. I expected questions about Celia or a new list of household instructions.

Instead he offered a revised employment arrangement. The salary was fairer, time off to support my mother was written into it, and any medical-care decisions about Sofia were explicitly reserved for the family and qualified professionals. There was also a procedure for staff to raise concerns without going through a person implicated in those concerns.

"I don't want a reward for saying the truth," I told him.

"It's not a reward. It's an overdue correction," he answered. "You can have the contract reviewed before accepting."

That last sentence persuaded me more than the number on the page. I could say no.

Before I signed anything, Naomi called again. A certified transfer log showed that the altered memorandum had not originated on Luca's computer or within the Moretti family office. It had been created on a system controlled by the Bellini group.

"That proves where the file was made," she explained. "Not who altered it. But Celia's materials are beginning to show a pattern."

"And the signature?" Luca asked.

"The originals are being examined. There's another thing: Arturo's financing application includes a statement that the Moretti family has already committed its support."

"They haven't."

"Then the lenders will need to know."

After the call, I found Luca standing in front of Sofia's drawing of the blue bedroom door.

"They're not just trying to take her away," he said. "They used her suffering to make lies about my consent sound reasonable."

I waited, because he hadn't finished.

May you like

[COMPLETED] She waited ten years for her fiancé, but the night she marri...

[COMPLETED] Five Years After My Mafia Husband Chose Another Woman, He Me...

[COMPLETED] I CALLED MY HUSBAND 18 TIMES WHILE OUR SON WAS DYING. EIGHT...

"And I nearly allowed it by choosing not to look."

This time I did not try to make him feel better. That understanding was painful, but it was the beginning of something Sofia needed more than protection from one deceitful woman: a father willing to pay attention.