Chapter 10 – THE LAST JOURNAL

Luca moved faster than I’d ever seen. He crossed the room and gently took the journal from Grace’s shaking hands.

“May I?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

Grace nodded, tears already welling in her eyes.

Luca sat on the edge of the coffee table, his large hands carefully holding the fragile book. I stood beside Grace, while Mrs. Higgins watched quietly from the armchair.

“October 14th,” Luca read aloud, his voice echoing in the quiet room. The exact date of Marco’s death.

“I followed Marco to the docks tonight,” Luca read. “He told Isabella he was meeting with the Senator, but I didn’t trust the Bellini woman. I knew she was planning something. I hid behind the freight containers.”

Luca stopped reading. His knuckles were white.

“Keep going,” Grace urged softly.

Luca took a deep breath.

“I saw Vanessa and her men carry Marco onto the boat. I saw them rig the engine. When the boat sped off into the lake and exploded, I didn’t wait. I dove into the water.”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

For seven years, the Moretti family believed Marco had died alone in the freezing waters of Lake Michigan.

“I swam for twenty minutes,” Luca continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I found him clinging to a piece of debris. He was burned. Bleeding. I pulled him to the shore, away from the docks, away from Vanessa’s men.”

I covered my mouth. Thomas Bennett, a simple music teacher, had risked his life to save a mafia boss’s son.

“He was dying,” Luca read, a tear finally escaping his dark eyes and falling onto the aged paper. “I tried to call an ambulance, but Marco stopped me. He told me Vanessa would kill Isabella and the baby if they knew he had survived the blast. He knew he wouldn’t make it to the hospital.”

Grace sobbed softly, burying her face in her hands.

Luca cleared his throat, struggling to maintain his composure.

“Marco took his rosary from his pocket,” Luca read. “He told me to give it to his daughter. He made me swear to take Isabella and the baby and hide them. He said his brother, Luca, was a good man, but he was too young to protect them from the Bellinis.”

Luca closed his eyes. The guilt of those words hit him like a physical blow. He had been twenty-nine when Marco died. He had thought he was invincible. But Marco had known the truth—the family wasn’t ready for a war.

“Marco died in my arms on the sand,” the journal concluded. “I left him there for the police to find, so Vanessa would believe she had won. I went home, packed my car, and took Isabella and baby Sophie to Vermont that very night. I will protect them, Marco. I swear it.”

Luca slowly closed the journal.

He didn’t speak. He just sat there, staring at the leather cover.

Grace wiped her eyes. “My father never told me. He carried that secret, that trauma, all by himself.”

“He was a hero,” I said softly. “He gave up his entire life to protect a child that wasn’t even his.”

Luca stood up. He walked over to Mrs. Higgins and gently took her frail hands in his.

“Thank you,” Luca said, his voice raw. “You have given my family peace. You will never pay rent or a medical bill for the rest of your life. That is a Moretti promise.”

Mrs. Higgins smiled warmly. “He loved that little girl, Mr. Moretti. That’s all that matters.”

After the old woman left, Luca turned to Grace.

“Thomas Bennett is a true member of this family,” Luca said firmly. “Tomorrow, we are moving his remains to the Moretti family mausoleum. He will rest beside Marco. And Isabella.”

Grace looked at him, overwhelmed by the gesture. In the old world traditions, burial in the family crypt was the highest honor.

“Thank you, Luca,” Grace cried, pulling him into a hug.

For the first time since I had met him, Luca Moretti fully returned the embrace, holding his new sister tightly.

I looked at the wooden box on the table. The secrets were finally out. The ghosts were finally laid to rest.

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