Chapter 2 - The Letter Elena Never Sent
Isabella’s hand closed around the small brass key.
Rosa caught her wrist.
"Hide the box."
The knock came again.
"Mrs. Romano," Dominic called. "Mr. Moretti sent me."
Rosa whispered, "He is lying."
Isabella stared at her.
"How do you know?"
"Because Elena warned me about the Ferraros thirty years before you were born."
The doorknob moved.
Isabella grabbed the metal box and rushed toward the pantry.
She shoved it behind a row of cleaning supplies seconds before the front door opened.
Dominic stepped inside.
He was smiling.
That somehow made him more frightening.
"I believe knocking is still considered polite," Isabella said.
"The door was open."
"That wasn’t an invitation."
"No harm intended."
Rosa remained seated.
"Get out."
Dominic looked at her.
"Rosa Romano."
"You remember me."
"I was a boy."
"Old enough."
His smile faded.
Isabella moved between them.
"What do you want?"
"To prevent a misunderstanding."
"Which misunderstanding?"
"The one involving Luca."
Rosa laughed bitterly.
"Your family still calls murder a misunderstanding?"
Dominic’s jaw shifted.
"I don’t know what you think happened."
"I know exactly what happened."
"Then perhaps we should speak privately."
"We are speaking privately."
Dominic looked at Isabella.
"She doesn’t need to hear this."
"She needs to hear everything."
That seemed to concern him.
He took a step closer.
"Rosa, old stories can become dangerous when people remember them incorrectly."
"Then it’s fortunate I kept proof."
Isabella’s pulse jumped.
Dominic’s eyes changed.
There.
For half a second.
Fear.
"Proof of what?"
Rosa leaned back.
"Why do you care?"
"I care about Luca."
"No. You care about what Luca might learn."
Dominic exhaled.
"Where is the box?"
Isabella said, "What box?"
His gaze moved to her.
"Your grandmother and I are discussing family matters."
"So am I."
"Isabella."
The fact that he knew her first name made her skin crawl.
"Leave."
Dominic’s voice lowered.
"If Luca sees certain things without context, he could make decisions that cannot be undone."
Rosa stood.
"My sister died because everyone around her kept giving murder a context."
Dominic froze.
Isabella did too.
"Sister?" Isabella whispered.
Rosa looked at her.
The truth had slipped out.
Dominic recovered first.
"Rosa—"
"You heard me."
Isabella felt the room tilt.
"Elena Moretti was your sister?"
Rosa’s eyes stayed on Dominic.
"Yes."
"And you never told me?"
"I was protecting you."
"From what?"
Dominic stepped toward the door.
"I should go."
Isabella blocked him.
"No. You wanted to prevent a misunderstanding. Prevent it."
"Move."
"Not until you explain why my grandmother thinks your family killed her sister."
His politeness vanished.
"That is not what she said."
"It’s exactly what she said."
Rosa walked closer.
"Tell Luca I still have Elena’s letter."
Dominic’s face emptied.
"What letter?"
"The one she wrote for her son."
"I don’t know anything about a letter."
"You were always a poor liar."
He looked at the pantry.
It was quick.
But Isabella saw it.
He knew.
"Goodnight," Dominic said.
He reached the door.
Then paused.
"Be careful whom you trust, Isabella. Your grandmother spent fifty years hiding things from you."
"And you spent ten minutes breaking into her house."
Dominic left.
Isabella locked the door behind him.
Then turned.
"You have about thirty seconds before I lose my mind."
Rosa lowered herself into the chair.
"Elena was my sister."
"I understood that part."
"We were born in Sicily. She was seven years older. Our father owned a small olive farm and a building here in Brooklyn that his brother managed."
"What building?"
Rosa looked at her.
"Bellaforte."
Isabella stared.
"The restaurant?"
"The entire building."
"That’s impossible."
"It was ours."
"Was?"
"Until it was stolen."
By whom did not need to be said.
Rosa continued.
"Elena met Carlo Moretti after our family came to America. He was charming. Ambitious. Dangerous in ways she did not understand until it was too late."
"Luca’s father."
"Yes."
"Did he steal Bellaforte?"
"He took much more than that."
Rosa’s gaze fell to her hands.
"Our father died suddenly. Documents disappeared. Carlo produced papers claiming the property had been sold to one of his companies."
"And Elena?"
"She believed him at first. Later she learned the signatures were forged."
Isabella sat opposite her.
"Why didn’t you go to the police?"
Rosa smiled sadly.
"We did."
"What happened?"
"The detective we spoke to retired unexpectedly three days later."
"That sounds like a bad movie."
"It was worse when you had to live through it."
Isabella thought of Luca.
"He knows none of this?"
"Elena tried to tell him."
"Why didn’t she?"
"Because Carlo threatened you."
Isabella stopped breathing.
"Me?"
"You were a baby."
Rosa looked toward the pantry.
"Elena discovered financial records showing Carlo had used our family property to hide money. She wanted to expose him. Carlo told her that if she did, your mother and her baby girl would disappear."
Isabella’s throat tightened.
"Mom knew?"
"Only that danger existed. Not why."
"And Elena stayed silent."
"For years."
"Then what changed?"
"Carlo died."
Isabella remembered the Moretti patriarch had died when Luca was young.
"So she was free."
"She thought she was."
Rosa’s expression hardened.
"But Carlo had men who remained loyal to what he built."
"The Ferraros."
Rosa did not answer.
She did not need to.
Isabella went to the pantry and retrieved the box.
She placed it on the table.
"Open the letter."
"I promised Elena Luca would receive it only if he heard the phrase."
Isabella frowned.
"What?"
"Cu voli beni, nun si scorda mai."
"Why?"
"It was our code when we were girls. Elena said if Luca ever heard those words from my family, it meant the two families had crossed paths again without interference."
"That is bizarrely specific."
"Elena was terrified."
Isabella touched the envelope.
"Then tonight triggered the promise."
"Yes."
"Why did you tell me to run?"
"Because I did not know who was sitting beside him."
"Dominic."
Rosa nodded.
Isabella’s stomach tightened.
"What is in the letter?"
"I never opened it."
"Fifty years?"
"Twenty-one."
"Still."
"It wasn’t mine."
A car stopped outside.
Both women looked toward the window.
Headlights washed across the curtains.
Rosa stiffened.
Isabella peeked through the blinds.
A black sedan.
Luca stepped out alone.
"He’s here."
Rosa closed her eyes.
"Of course he is."
"Should I let him in?"
Her grandmother looked at the envelope.
Then at Isabella.
"Yes."
Luca entered two minutes later.
He removed his coat but refused coffee.
His attention went immediately to the box.
"Dominic was here," Isabella said.
Luca’s gaze snapped toward her.
"When?"
"Ten minutes ago."
"I didn’t send him."
"We know."
His jaw tightened.
"What did he want?"
"The box."
"How did he know about it?"
Rosa answered.
"That is the question you should ask him."
Luca sat slowly.
Rosa pushed the envelope across the table.
He stared at his name.
His fingertips hovered above the paper.
"Is that her handwriting?"
"Yes."
"Why do you have it?"
"Because she trusted me more than she trusted anyone in your house."
Pain crossed his face.
He broke the seal.
Inside were six handwritten pages.
Luca read the first line.
Then stopped.
Isabella saw his knuckles whiten.
"What does it say?"
He did not answer.
"Luca?"
He handed her the page.
The first sentence read:
My son, if Rosa has finally given you this letter, then you have heard the words I prayed would never bring our families together again.
Below that:
Your father did not build the Moretti fortune.
He stole the beginning of it from my family.
Luca took the page back.
He continued reading.
Isabella watched anger build in absolute silence.
Halfway down the second page, he stood abruptly.
"What?"
He looked at Rosa.
"She says there is a ledger."
Rosa nodded.
"Yes."
"Where?"
"I don’t know."
"My mother says you do."
"She was wrong."
Luca read further.
Then his expression changed again.
"What?" Isabella asked.
He looked toward the brass key.
"There’s an address."
Rosa’s face went white.
"What address?"
Luca read it aloud.
"Saint Agnes Cemetery. Family mausoleum 17."
Rosa whispered, "No."
"What?"
"Elena told me never to go there."
"Why?"
"Because that is where Carlo buried the first man who tried to expose him."
Silence filled the kitchen.
Luca folded the letter.
"I’m going."
Isabella stood.
"So am I."
"No."
"You came into my grandmother’s house because of my family."
"Exactly why you’re staying here."
Rosa picked up the brass key.
"She goes."
Luca looked at her.
"Mrs. Romano—"
"Elena left the key with me. Isabella carries it."
Luca’s eyes moved toward Isabella.
"Then we leave now."
They stepped outside.
The street was empty.
Too empty.
Luca’s sedan waited at the curb.
His driver opened the rear door.
Isabella was halfway inside when Luca suddenly stopped.
He stared at the windshield.
A white envelope had been tucked beneath the wiper.
He pulled it free.
There was no name on the front.
Inside was a single photograph.
It showed Isabella leaving Bellaforte less than an hour earlier.
A red circle had been drawn around her face.
May you like
On the back were five words.
Do not open the grave.
