Chapter 2 – THE NAME ON THE FORM

“Vanessa said that was the only way you wouldn’t come looking for me.”

Luca stared at his mother.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then he placed the welcome card facedown.

“Mom, why would you think I wouldn’t want to find you?”

Teresa wiped her cheeks.

“Because you’d feel guilty.”

“About what?”

“About finally having a life of your own.”

He lowered his head.

I had seen Luca Moretti frighten grown men simply by entering a room.

But that night, he looked like a little boy trying to understand why his mother believed he’d stopped needing her.

“Mom,” he said quietly, “I was looking forward to being married. I wasn’t looking forward to losing you.”

Teresa nodded.

But I could see she wasn’t convinced.

Four months of fear couldn’t disappear because of one conversation.

Mrs. Carter picked up the welcome card.

“Mr. Moretti, there may be more paperwork.”

Luca looked at her.

“What paperwork?”

“Miss Bellini left a folder in the household office. She said it contained your mother’s arrangements.”

“Bring it here, please.”

Mrs. Carter hesitated.

“Some of it concerns the staff.”

I felt a strange chill.

Luca noticed.

“Bring everything.”

While we waited, he pulled his mother’s chair closer to the table.

The six hundred dollars still lay inside her purse.

He didn’t touch it.

Instead, he asked, “Mom, did anyone from Briarwood speak to you directly?”

“A woman came here last week.”

“What did she ask?”

“Whether I could dress myself. Whether I remembered my medication. Things like that.”

“Were you alone?”

“Vanessa stayed.”

Teresa looked uncomfortable.

“She answered some questions for me.”

“Why?”

“Because I got nervous.”

I understood that.

Teresa had always disliked strangers asking about her health.

But I remembered the afternoon Vanessa had ordered us to keep the sitting room empty.

She’d called it a private consultation.

At the time, I’d assumed it concerned wedding arrangements.

Now I knew otherwise.

“Mrs. Moretti,” I asked, “did the woman ask whether you wanted to leave this house?”

Teresa thought for a moment.

“Yes.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her I didn’t want to cause trouble.”

Luca exhaled slowly.

“That isn’t the same as wanting to leave.”

Teresa stared at her hands.

“Vanessa said the woman would understand what I meant.”

Mrs. Carter returned with a blue folder.

She placed it on the table.

Inside were appointment notes, clothing instructions, a household inventory, and several pages from Briarwood House.

Nothing looked especially dramatic.

That somehow made it worse.

Teresa’s entire life had been reduced to a collection of ordinary forms.

Luca opened the first page.

“Residential support assessment,” he read.

His eyes moved down the paper.

“Frequent confusion. Increasing dependence. Social withdrawal.”

He stopped.

“Who gave them this information?”

Mrs. Carter looked uncomfortable.

“Miss Bellini, I believe.”

Teresa frowned.

“I’m not frequently confused.”

“I know, Mom.”

“I forget where I put my glasses sometimes.”

“So do I.”

She almost smiled.

Then Luca read another line.

“Difficulty managing daily living independently.”

He looked at me.

“Emily?”

“Your mother dresses herself, chooses her meals, handles her medication, and still reminds the kitchen when supplies are running low.”

Teresa glanced up.

“And I balanced my checking account yesterday.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Luca looked back at the page.

“Then why does this say she can’t manage money?”

Teresa’s expression crumpled.

“Because I fell behind on the rent.”

Nobody spoke.

Then Luca closed his eyes.

Vanessa had made Teresa believe she couldn’t manage money by inventing a debt she never owed.

And that supposed failure had become evidence she needed professional supervision.

I could see Luca putting those pieces together.

He opened another page.

“Designated transition contact.”

His eyes narrowed.

Then he looked at me.

“Emily.”

Something in his voice frightened me.

“What is it?”

He turned the paper around.

My full name was printed beneath the heading.

Emily Parker — Personal Companion and Transition Escort.

I stared.

“I never agreed to that.”

Teresa looked startled.

“But Vanessa said you would come with me.”

I slowly turned toward her.

“What?”

“She said you could help me settle in.”

“Mrs. Moretti, nobody asked me.”

Teresa’s face went white.

I reached for her hand.

“Please don’t worry. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

But she was already crying.

“I thought at least I’d have someone I knew.”

Luca looked at Mrs. Carter.

“Who authorized Emily to accompany my mother?”

“Miss Bellini gave the instructions.”

“And who agreed to pay Emily?”

Mrs. Carter frowned.

“There was no separate pay arrangement.”

Luca’s voice hardened.

“Then what exactly was the plan?”

She looked down at the folder.

“I wasn’t told.”

I stared at my name.

I had spent four years helping Teresa through her husband’s death, difficult mornings, and the quiet loneliness that sometimes followed.

Vanessa had used that relationship to persuade her to leave.

And she’d used my name without asking.

Luca turned another page.

There was a packing list.

Six nightgowns.

Four sweaters.

Two pairs of shoes.

Medication.

Personal toiletries.

No family photographs.

No valuable jewelry.

I thought about Antonio’s photograph on Teresa’s dressing table.

The worn silver frame she’d polished every Sunday.

“Mrs. Moretti, why aren’t your family photographs included?”

She looked ashamed.

“Vanessa said I’d need to get used to my new room.”

Luca’s expression hardened again.

“And who gets to decide what makes my mother comfortable?”

Nobody answered.

Mrs. Carter cleared her throat.

“Mr. Moretti, there is something else.”

He turned.

She held a white envelope.

“I was instructed to prepare this for Emily.”

My stomach dropped.

Luca took it.

Across the front, in Vanessa’s neat handwriting, were three words.

He opened it.

Inside was a typed notice stating that my household position would end when Teresa entered residential care.

It wasn’t signed.

It wasn’t official.

But it contained my full name and the exact date of Teresa’s planned admission.

I felt my knees weaken.

Luca read the first paragraph.

Then the second.

His jaw tightened.

“Emily, did you request to leave this household?”

“No, sir.”

“Did anyone discuss ending your employment?”

He turned toward Mrs. Carter.

“Did you approve this?”

She shook her head.

“No, sir. Miss Bellini said it was a decision you had already made.”

Luca looked down.

For the first time, anger completely replaced the shock on his face.

Then he read the final instruction aloud.

“Employee access to the east wing will be withdrawn at nine o’clock Thursday morning.”

Teresa grabbed my hand.

“Emily?”

I couldn’t answer.

Because Thursday was the day Vanessa had arranged for Teresa to leave.

And now we knew she had planned to remove me at precisely the same time.