Chapter 4 - The Things Luca Never Cancelled

Luca did not go back downstairs immediately.

He sat on the edge of Sophie’s bed with her beside him.

The wedding behavior cards were spread across the blanket.

Sarah’s photographs were back where they belonged.

One on the nightstand.

One on the dresser.

One beside Sophie’s lamp.

Luca looked at each of them.

Then he asked:

“Friday movies.”

Sophie’s shoulders tightened.

“What about them?”

“How many did we miss?”

She counted silently.

“Five.”

Luca frowned.

“I was home for four.”

“Vanessa said you were busy.”

“I was never too busy.”

Sophie looked at him.

“I thought you didn’t want them anymore.”

He flinched.

“I thought you didn’t.”

They stared at each other.

Same lie.

Told in opposite directions.

That was how Vanessa had done it.

Not by building one wall.

By moving Luca and Sophie one inch apart at a time until both thought the other had stepped away.

Luca stood.

“Claire.”

“Yes?”

“Bring me my calendar.”

It was in his study downstairs.

Marco retrieved it.

Luca compared five Fridays.

Each one had a dinner.

A meeting.

A wedding appointment.

All arranged by Vanessa.

Then Maria checked Sophie’s school calendar.

Each Friday contained a handwritten note.

DAD WORKING LATE.

“Vanessa wrote that,” Sophie said.

Luca looked at me.

“Sunday breakfast?”

“Cancelled twice,” Sophie whispered.

“Tuesday homework?”

“Three times.”

“Pancakes?”

She looked down.

“Since April.”

Luca sat again.

It was June.

Two months of little disappearances.

Not enough to look like abandonment.

Enough to feel like it.

Then I remembered something.

“The kitchen notebook.”

Luca looked up.

“What?”

“The household schedule.”

Every major family meal went into a leather-bound planner near the service pantry.

I went downstairs with Marco.

Vanessa was still in the dining room.

She stood when she saw me.

“Enjoying yourself?”

I ignored her.

That seemed to make her angrier.

“You think he’s going to reward you for this?”

I stopped.

“No.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

I looked at her.

“Because Sophie is ten.”

For once, Vanessa had nothing to say.

I found the notebook.

Friday movie snacks.

Crossed out.

Sunday waffles.

Crossed out.

Saturday pancakes.

Crossed out.

Beside each entry:

REQUESTED BY SOPHIE.

Cancelled.

I carried the notebook upstairs.

Luca read it.

Then Sophie shook her head.

“I didn’t request that.”

“I know.”

He turned the page.

There were new entries.

Wedding etiquette lesson.

Formal posture practice.

Public introduction rehearsal.

Luca looked at his daughter.

“What is public introduction rehearsal?”

She hesitated.

“Vanessa made me practice saying, ‘This is my mom, Vanessa.’”

Maria covered her mouth.

Luca stayed very still.

“Did she ever make you say it to anyone?”

“Not yet.”

“Did she threaten you?”

Sophie looked toward the door.

Then nodded.

“With what?”

“My room.”

Luca frowned.

“She said after the wedding I might move to the third floor.”

I knew the third floor.

Guest rooms.

Far from Luca’s suite.

Far from the family rooms.

Luca stood so quickly the chair hit the wall.

“Why?”

“She said newly married people need privacy.”

He stared at the hallway.

Then at me.

“Did you know?”

“No, sir.”

Maria’s eyes hardened.

“Luca, she wasn’t preparing to join this family.”

He looked at his sister.

“She was reorganizing it.”

Nobody said anything.

Then Marco appeared in the doorway.

“Mr. Moretti.”

“What?”

“We found something in Mrs. Bellini’s sitting room.”

Vanessa had been given a private sitting room beside the bridal suite.

Marco held a thin black folder.

He handed it to Luca.

Inside were printed floor plans of the mansion.

One room was circled.

Third floor.

Beside it, in Vanessa’s handwriting:

SOPHIE — AFTER WEDDING.

Luca flipped the page.

Another note.

CLAIRE — TERMINATE AFTER HONEYMOON.

My stomach dropped.

Sophie grabbed my hand.

Then Luca turned one more page.

This one was worse.

SARAH ITEMS — STORAGE.

Every photograph.

Every dress.

Every letter.

Every piece of Sophie’s mother that could be boxed, labeled, and moved out of sight.

Luca shut the folder.

Then he looked at Marco.

“Bring Vanessa upstairs.”

Marco nodded.

Luca’s voice stopped him.

“And bring her father too.”

I looked at him.

“Her father?”

Luca stared at the black folder.

“He paid for half this wedding.”

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Then he looked toward Sophie.

“I want to know whether he was also paying for my daughter to disappear from her own home.”