Chapter 2 - The Boy Behind the Red Door

Luca kept the mitten in his fist.

Not tight enough to crush it.

Just tight enough to keep anyone from taking it away.

Vanessa stood across from him with thirty people watching.

Her face had gone pale beneath the chandelier light.

“Tell me his name.”

She shook her head.

“Luca, not here.”

He looked around the dining room.

Then at the engagement cake.

Then at the ring on her hand.

“Apparently here is where I find out everything.”

Nobody moved.

Sal looked at me.

I understood.

This wasn’t about a child anymore.

It was about every lie that had been placed around him before dinner.

Vanessa lowered her voice.

“His name is Noah.”

Luca stared at her.

“How old?”

“Six.”

He looked at the mitten again.

Six.

The room seemed to shrink around that number.

“You have a six-year-old son.”

“Yes.”

“And you told me you had never had children.”

Tears slipped down her face.

“I was afraid.”

“Of me?”

“No.”

She looked toward the long windows.

“Of my father.”

That changed something.

Luca stopped looking angry.

He started looking careful.

“Why would your father care whether I knew about your son?”

Vanessa swallowed.

Before she could answer, one of the guests stood near the fireplace.

Victor Bellini.

Her father.

He was sixty-two.

Silver at the temples.

Perfect tuxedo.

A man who had spent the entire evening smiling like he owned the room.

“Vanessa,” he said.

Just her name.

She flinched.

Luca noticed.

So did I.

Victor walked toward us.

“This has gone far enough.”

Luca turned.

“It hasn’t even started.”

Victor looked at Sal.

“You were told to leave.”

Sal straightened.

“I was.”

“And yet here you are.”

Luca stepped between them.

“Careful.”

Victor gave a thin smile.

“You’re defending a driver over your fiancée?”

“No.”

Luca looked at Vanessa.

“I’m defending the truth from whoever keeps trying to move it out the service entrance.”

For the first time that night, Victor’s smile disappeared.

Vanessa pressed both hands together.

“Noah’s father is dead.”

Luca looked back at her.

“How?”

She said nothing.

Victor answered.

“Car accident.”

Vanessa closed her eyes.

That was when I knew the answer was wrong.

Not because I knew anything.

Because she looked like someone listening to a lie she had heard too many times.

Luca saw it too.

“When?”

“Five years ago,” Victor said.

Vanessa whispered, “Four.”

Her father turned toward her.

Only slightly.

But the look was enough.

Luca’s voice dropped.

“Which is it?”

Victor’s jaw tightened.

“Vanessa is emotional.”

“She seems more accurate than you.”

No one smiled.

Sal stepped forward.

“Mr. Moretti.”

Luca looked at him.

“There’s something else.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened.

“Sal, please.”

The old man ignored her.

“When I drove her Tuesday night, she wasn’t alone when she came back.”

Luca’s face changed again.

“Who was with her?”

“A woman.”

Vanessa stared at him.

Sal continued.

“Mid-thirties. Dark hair. She carried the boy inside.”

Victor’s hand tightened around his glass.

Luca looked at Vanessa.

“Who was she?”

Vanessa wiped her cheek.

“My sister.”

Victor said, “Enough.”

Luca turned slowly.

“I didn’t know Vanessa had a sister.”

“You don’t,” Victor said.

Vanessa began crying harder.

“Yes, I do.”

Silence.

Her father stared at her.

She looked at Luca.

“My sister’s name is Elena.”

Victor’s voice turned cold.

“Vanessa.”

But she kept going.

“She disappeared eight years ago.”

Luca frowned.

“Disappeared?”

Vanessa shook her head.

“No.”

Then she looked directly at her father.

“She was made to disappear.”

Victor stepped toward her.

Luca stepped between them.

Sal’s hand moved toward his old coat without thinking.

Not because there was anything inside it.

Because thirty-four years of protecting Morettis had become muscle memory.

Vanessa looked at the mitten in Luca’s hand.

“Elena has been raising Noah.”

“Why?”

“Because my father told everyone I wasn’t fit to be his mother.”

Luca’s expression hardened.

Victor laughed once.

“That is not what happened.”

“Then tell him.”

Vanessa turned on him.

“Tell him why you took my son.”

Victor’s face went still.

I felt cold despite the warm room.

Luca looked from father to daughter.

Then at the mitten.

He asked one question.

“Was Noah taken from you legally?”

Vanessa shook her head.

“No.”

Victor said, “She gave him up.”

Vanessa looked at Luca.

“I never signed anything.”

Nobody spoke.

Then Sal reached into the cardboard box again.

He removed a folded receipt.

“I stopped for gas Tuesday night.”

He placed it on the table.

“West Addison. 12:43 a.m.”

Victor stared at it.

Sal looked at Luca.

“And I remember the house number.”

Luca’s eyes lifted.

“What number?”

Sal answered quietly.

“2417.”

Vanessa stopped breathing.

Victor’s face lost all color.

And Luca understood before I did.

He looked at Vanessa.

“That house belongs to your father, doesn’t it?”

She nodded.

“No.”

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Her voice broke.

“It belongs to you.”