Chapter 2 - The Uncle Who Vanished With Lily

The ballroom screens stayed black except for one live image.

Gray-haired man.

Dark coat.

Open archive vault.

The folder in his hand read:

LILY MORETTI — ALIVE.

Emma stared at it.

Then at Luca.

“Who is he?”

Luca did not answer immediately.

His face had gone still in a way Emma was beginning to understand meant the opposite of calm.

“Enzo Moretti,” Marco said quietly.

Luca’s father’s younger brother.

The uncle who disappeared the same night five-year-old Lily vanished from the wreck.

Enzo looked directly into the archive camera.

“Luca.”

His voice was older than Luca remembered.

But unmistakable.

“Bring Emma downstairs.”

Belini stepped forward.

“No.”

Every head turned.

Luca looked at her.

“You seem determined to answer invitations that are not yours.”

Belini’s face tightened.

“Enzo Moretti disappeared twenty years ago. You have no idea who that man is now.”

Luca’s eyes narrowed.

“You do?”

Silence.

There it was again.

Too much knowledge.

Luca turned to Marco.

“Archive access?”

“Locked internally.”

“Other exits?”

“None officially.”

“Unofficially?”

Marco looked uncomfortable.

“This is a Moretti estate.”

“Fair.”

Emma touched the pendant at her throat.

“I’m not going into a basement with a man I’ve never met because he called me his niece.”

Luca looked at her.

“You’re right.”

Belini blinked.

Emma did too.

Luca continued.

“He comes up.”

Marco spoke into his radio.

Ten minutes later, guards escorted Enzo into the private library beside the ballroom.

He did not resist.

He looked sixty.

Tired.

Elegant in the old Moretti way.

And when he saw Emma without the cloth covering her scar, he stopped walking.

“Lucia’s eyes,” he whispered.

Emma’s skin went cold.

Luca stepped between them.

“Do not decide who she is before she does.”

Enzo looked at him.

“You sound like Antonio.”

“That is not a compliment tonight.”

Something passed across Enzo’s face.

Grief.

Real.

He placed the folder on the table.

Inside were photographs.

Not of Emma now.

Of a little girl.

Five years old.

Silver pendant.

Scar near the temple.

Then hospital intake forms.

No readable details mattered.

Only the photograph attached.

Emma.

Younger.

Bruised.

Bandaged.

Alive.

Emma gripped the chair.

“That’s me.”

Enzo nodded.

“Taken three days after the crash.”

Luca’s breathing changed.

“Where?”

“Albany.”

Emma looked at him sharply.

Saint Agnes.

The orphanage.

Luca turned back to Enzo.

“You found her.”

“Yes.”

“Then why was she in an orphanage?”

Enzo looked down.

“Because I was trying to keep her alive.”

Belini laughed once.

“No. You were trying to keep control of the trust.”

Enzo’s gaze snapped toward her.

“So Vittorio told you.”

Luca heard the name.

“Your father.”

Belini said nothing.

Enzo continued.

“Vittorio Bellini was trustee counsel when Antonio created the succession documents.”

Luca’s jaw tightened.

“What documents?”

“The ones your father sealed after the crash.”

Marco opened the folder.

A trust summary.

If both Moretti children survived:

control divided equally.

If one died:

the survivor inherited the family voting block.

Emma stared.

“I don’t want it.”

Enzo looked at her.

“That never mattered to the people who wanted you missing.”

Luca’s eyes hardened.

“Who?”

Enzo looked toward Belini.

She went pale.

Not guilty.

Afraid.

“That is why I came back,” Enzo said.

“Because the person who ordered the crash is still connected to this house.”

Silence.

Luca looked at Belini.

She whispered:

“My father did not order it.”

Enzo’s expression changed.

“I didn’t say he did.”

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And in that instant Luca understood something worse.

Belini knew who they were talking about.