TAKE THAT COAT OFF HER! SHE'S NOT GOING ANYWHERE, AND I'M TIRED OF HER PRETENDING SOMEONE IS COMING!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 25-YEAR-OLD MAID IN FRONT OF FORTY DINNER GUESTS
"**“TAKE THAT COAT OFF HER! SHE'S NOT GOING ANYWHERE, AND I'M TIRED OF HER PRETENDING SOMEONE IS COMING!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 25-YEAR-OLD MAID IN FRONT OF FORTY DINNER GUESTS—BUT WHEN HIS 78-YEAR-OLD MOTHER GRABBED THE MAID'S HAND AND WHISPERED, “SHE PROMISED SHE'D COME BACK,” LUCA MORETTI STOOD UP AND ASKED WHO HIS MOTHER HAD BEEN WAITING FOR.**
“Take off her coat, Hannah.”
Vanessa Bellini stood beside the dining table in a fitted red evening gown, staring at the elderly woman sitting near the fireplace.
Forty guests were celebrating Luca Moretti's engagement.
And seventy-eight-year-old Teresa Moretti was wearing her good navy coat over her Sunday dress.
“Mrs. Moretti said she wanted to keep it on,” I explained.
Vanessa laughed.
“Oh, sweetheart. She's been sitting there dressed for a trip that isn't happening. Stop encouraging her.”
Teresa lowered her eyes.
“I might need it.”
“For what, Teresa? You're not going anywhere.”
The old woman's fingers tightened around the coat buttons.
“Someone said they'd come.”
Vanessa sighed loudly.
“Honestly, this is getting embarrassing.”
Several guests looked away.
I felt Teresa's hand searching for mine.
And I knew exactly why she wouldn't take off that coat.
My name is Hannah Collins. I'm twenty-five years old, and I've worked at the Moretti mansion in Chicago for eleven months.
I needed this job.
My mother's recovery from surgery had been slow, and every paycheck helped cover the care she needed at home.
Vanessa knew that.
She'd already threatened to dismiss me for spending too much time with Teresa.
But for the past four Thursdays, the old woman had done something strange.
She put on her best coat at six o'clock.
Sat beside the downstairs window.
And waited.
Every Thursday, she asked me to check the front door.
Every Thursday, nobody came.
Until tonight, I thought.
“Take the coat, Hannah.”
Vanessa extended her hand.
Teresa pulled away.
“Please don't.”
Vanessa's smile disappeared.
“Teresa, you're behaving like a child.”
I looked at the old woman.
Her eyes were filling with tears.
“Mrs. Bellini,” I said quietly, “she isn't bothering anyone.”
Vanessa turned toward me.
“Excuse me?”
“She's comfortable wearing it.”
“Then perhaps you should take her upstairs, where she can be comfortable without making a spectacle of herself.”
Teresa's face fell.
“I wanted to have dinner with Luca.”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“Then stop making everyone uncomfortable.”
I couldn't bear it anymore.
I gently straightened Teresa's collar.
And left the coat where it was.
Vanessa stepped closer.
“Hannah, if you cannot follow simple instructions, you can pack your bags tonight.”
My stomach tightened.
I thought of my mother's medical bills.
Then Teresa squeezed my hand.
“Don't leave me alone, sweetheart.”
A chair moved at the head of the table.
“Why would Hannah be leaving?”
Luca Moretti had stood.
Thirty-five years old. Dark hair. Black tailored suit.
His voice was calm, but the room immediately quieted.
Vanessa smiled.
“Darling, your mother is having another confused evening. Hannah keeps encouraging her to wait for someone who isn't coming.”
Luca looked toward Teresa.
“Mom?”
She tried to smile.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
He walked around the table.
“Why are you wearing your coat?”
Teresa touched the collar.
“Because it's Thursday.”
Luca frowned.
“What's special about Thursday?”
The old woman's eyes filled.
“She always came on Thursdays.”
Vanessa interrupted.
“Teresa, please. We've explained this.”
But Luca raised one hand.
“Who came on Thursdays, Mom?”
Teresa looked toward me.
I felt my heart pounding.
Because she had told me the name that morning.
And Vanessa had warned me never to mention it.
“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, “your mother has been waiting for your sister.”
Luca stopped moving.
“Sofia?”
Teresa nodded.
“My little girl.”
The room went silent.
Luca slowly pulled out a chair.
“Mom, Sofia hasn't visited in almost eight months.”
Teresa stared at him.
“Because you told her not to.”
His expression changed.
“What?”
Vanessa immediately reached for his arm.
“Darling, you know Sofia has been difficult since the disagreement.”
Luca didn't look at her.
“Mom, who told you I didn't want Sofia here?”
Teresa's hands trembled.
“Vanessa.”
Nobody moved.
Luca turned.
“Vanessa?”
She sighed.
“I was trying to protect your mother from another disappointment.”
He studied her face.
“What disappointment?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“Sofia made it very clear she wanted distance from this family.”
Teresa suddenly shook her head.
“No.”
Her voice was small.
But firm.
“She promised me.”
Luca leaned closer.
“Promised you what?”
“That she'd come back for my birthday.”
His expression softened.
“Mom, your birthday was last month.”
Teresa began crying.
“I know.”
Then she looked at me.
“Hannah, tell him.”
My throat tightened.
Because I'd been there on Teresa's birthday.
I'd watched her sit beside the window until nearly midnight.
She'd refused to change out of her dress.
And she'd asked me six times whether the front doorbell was working.
“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, “your mother waited for Sofia until eleven-thirty that night.”
Luca looked stunned.
“Why didn't anyone tell me?”
“Because I was told Sofia had already explained she wasn't coming.”
“Who told you?”
I looked toward Vanessa.
She went pale.
Luca followed my eyes.
Then he asked quietly, “Did you speak to my sister?”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“Of course I did.”
“When?”
“Several times.”
“What did she say?”
Vanessa looked around the table.
“Luca, must we do this in front of our guests?”
He didn't move.
“What did Sofia say?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“She said she needed more time.”
Teresa suddenly gripped his wrist.
“No, sweetheart.”
Luca turned.
“Mom?”
“She came.”
The old woman's voice broke.
“On my birthday. She came.”
Nobody breathed.
Vanessa stepped backward.
Luca stared at his mother.
“How do you know?”
Teresa reached into her coat pocket.
And pulled out a small yellow knitted glove.
The kind a woman might wear in early autumn.
Its thumb had been repaired with blue thread.
I recognized it.
I'd found the matching glove outside Teresa's bedroom door three weeks earlier.
Teresa held it against her chest.
“Sofia left this for me.”
Luca took the glove.
His expression changed.
“Mom made these for her when she was seventeen,” he whispered.
Teresa nodded.
“She still wears them.”
Vanessa forced a laugh.
“That doesn't prove anything.”
But Luca wasn't looking at her.
He was looking at me.
“Hannah, where did you find the other glove?”
I swallowed.
“Outside Mrs. Moretti's bedroom.”
“Who was there?”
I hesitated.
“Vanessa.”
Silence.
Vanessa's face hardened.
“Luca, are you seriously going to believe a maid over your future wife?”
He didn't raise his voice.
“I asked Hannah a question.”
My hands trembled.
“She was coming out of your mother's room. She told me Sofia had stopped by but didn't want to see anyone.”
Teresa began crying harder.
Luca slowly turned toward Vanessa.
“You told me Sofia never came.”
Vanessa said nothing.
Then Teresa caught his sleeve.
“Luca, there's something else.”
He knelt beside her.
“What is it, Mom?”
The old woman looked frightened.
“Sofia wasn't crying because you didn't invite her.”
Luca frowned.
“Then why?”
Teresa swallowed.
“Because she said someone had told you a terrible lie about her.”
Vanessa went completely still.
Luca looked up.
“What lie?”
Teresa shook her head.
“She wouldn't tell me. She just kept saying she hadn't done it.”
The room became silent.
Then Teresa whispered:
“She said you would understand if you knew what happened to Catherine.”
Luca froze.
Catherine.
His first wife.
The mother of his daughter.
The woman who had died three years earlier.
Vanessa reached for her glass.
But her hand was shaking.
Luca slowly stood.
“What does Sofia know about Catherine?”
Teresa began crying.
“She said she tried to tell you before the funeral.”
Vanessa whispered, “Teresa, please.”
The old woman looked directly at her.
“You told me she was making things up.”
Luca turned toward his fiancée.
“Vanessa?”
She shook her head.
“Luca, your sister was emotional. She was blaming herself.”
“Blaming herself for what?”
Vanessa couldn't answer.
Then Teresa reached for my hand.
“Hannah, tell him what Sofia said when she came back yesterday.”
My breath caught.
Yesterday?
I'd been helping Teresa into bed when I heard someone speaking outside her door.
A woman's voice.
Soft.
Familiar.
I'd assumed it was a guest.
But now I remembered what she'd said.
Please tell Luca I never stopped trying.
“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, “someone came to see your mother yesterday.”
Luca looked at me.
“Was it Sofia?”
I nodded slowly.
“I think so.”
Teresa squeezed my hand.
“She promised she'd come tonight.”
Vanessa's face turned white.
Luca asked, “Why tonight?”
The old woman's lips trembled.
“Because she said you were about to marry the woman who ruined your first marriage.”
Nobody moved.
Vanessa gripped the edge of the table.
Luca stared at his mother.
“Mom… Catherine died before I met Vanessa.”
Teresa slowly shook her head.
“No, sweetheart.”
Luca's expression changed.
“What?”
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
“That's what Vanessa wanted you to believe.”
A sudden knock came from the dining room doors.
Every guest turned.
Vanessa whispered, “Don't open them.”
But Luca was already standing.
“Why not?”
She looked frightened.
For the first time all evening, genuinely frightened.
Then Teresa slowly removed her coat.
She folded it across her lap.
And whispered:
“Because Sofia said she wouldn't come back alone this time.”
Luca looked toward the doors.
“Who is with her?”
Teresa's eyes filled.
“The woman Catherine begged me to find before she died.”
Vanessa stepped toward Luca.
“Please. You don't understand what they'll tell you.”
He turned.
“They?”
But before she could answer, a woman's voice called from the other side of the doors.
“Luca, before you marry Vanessa, ask her where she was the night Catherine died.”
And when Luca looked at his fiancée, she didn't deny knowing the voice.
May you like
She only whispered:
“I thought she was never coming back.”"
