Chapter 5 - The Little Boy in the Photograph
The following morning, Dante took me to the old Moretti estate.
It was a sprawling property in Westchester, surrounded by iron fences and ancient trees.
The house had been closed for years.
Inside, dust covered the furniture. The children's playroom remained untouched, as if everyone had simply walked away one afternoon and never returned.
Orion followed me everywhere.
When I entered the playroom, he stopped beside a small wooden rocking horse.
His nose moved along the floor.
Then he began scratching at the carpet.
"Dante!"
He appeared in the doorway.
"What is it?"
"He's found something."
Dante crouched beside the dog and pulled back the carpet.
A small brass key was taped beneath the wooden floorboard.
There was a number engraved on it.
314\.
Dante called Vincent.
"Find out what this opens."
While they investigated, I wandered toward a shelf containing old family photographs.
One picture caught my attention.
A woman in a nurse's uniform stood beside Matteo's crib.
My mother.
She looked happy.
Not frightened. Not guilty.
Happy.
Behind her stood another woman holding a baby.
I turned the photograph over.
There was a handwritten date and a name.
Isabella — September 1999.
"Who's Isabella?" I asked.
Dante approached.
"My father's personal assistant."
"Do you know what happened to her?"
"She died shortly after Matteo disappeared."
I studied the photograph.
"She looks familiar."
Dante frowned.
"How?"
I couldn't explain it.
Something about the woman's face reminded me of an old photograph in the box of my mother's belongings.
Then I remembered.
My mother had kept a small silver locket inside her bedside drawer. After her death, I had taken it with me whenever I moved.
I still had it.
I pulled it from my handbag.
When I opened it, a tiny photograph appeared.
It showed my mother holding a baby.
On the other side was the same woman from the photograph.
Isabella.
Dante stared at the locket.
"Where did you get that?"
"It belonged to my mother."
He carefully examined the photograph.
Then Vincent rushed into the room.
"Boss. The key opens a private storage locker at an old bank in Manhattan."
"What's inside?"
Vincent hesitated.
"A sealed medical file. And a letter addressed to Olivia."
My heart began racing.
We drove to the bank under heavy security.
The locker contained a metal box, several medical documents, and a cassette tape.
Dante handed me the letter.
My hands trembled as I opened it.
My dearest Olivia,
If you're reading this, then the truth has finally found its way to you. I need you to know that I never stole a child. I saved one.
I stopped.
Dante moved closer.
I continued reading.
The little boy everyone believed was dead was not Matteo. The real Matteo was already gone when I arrived at the estate.
My eyes filled with tears.
The letter continued.
Your father knows what happened. He helped me hide the child. But the man who ordered the disappearance is still alive.
I looked up.
"Your father?"
Dante went completely still.
"My father died twelve years ago."
I turned the page.
There was one final sentence.
The person who paid for the crime was Victor Moretti.
Dante's phone rang.
He answered without taking his eyes off the letter.
A man's voice came through the speaker.
"Hello, nephew."
Dante's expression hardened.
Victor.
"I hear you've been digging into old family business," the older man said pleasantly.
Dante's voice was ice.
"You have ten minutes to tell me where Matteo is."
Victor laughed.
"Matteo?"
Then his voice became cold.
"Look at the girl standing beside you, Dante. Ask yourself why Eleanor raised her under a false identity."
The call ended.
I looked down at the medical records.
And finally understood.
May you like
The truth wasn't that my mother had hidden Matteo.
It was that somebody had hidden me.
