Chapter 2 – THE FOLDER IN THE FIREPLACE
“What folder?” Luca’s voice was dangerously calm.
The engagement dinner had completely unraveled. Guests were standing up, whispering frantically, some edging toward the walls to distance themselves from the explosion they knew was coming.
Victor looked like a cornered rat. “The… the blue folder. From your study.”
Vanessa lunged forward, grabbing Luca’s arm. “Darling, he’s lying! He’s trying to drag me down to save himself! Hannah probably planted that watch to frame us because she hates me!”
Luca didn’t even look at her. He simply shrugged off her hand with a movement so cold and dismissive that Vanessa stumbled back.
He looked at me. “Hannah. Where is my son?”
“He’s locked in his bedroom, sir,” I said quickly. “He said he wouldn’t come out until the party was over.”
Luca turned to his head of security. “Clear the room. Everyone goes home. Now.”
Within seconds, the guards were ushering the shocked guests out of the dining room.
Luca turned back to his mother. His expression softened instantly. He knelt beside Teresa’s chair and gently took her trembling hands.
“Mom, you’re safe,” he whispered fiercely. “Nobody is going to send you away. I promise you.”
Teresa sobbed, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. “I was so scared, Luca. I tried to tell you, but Vanessa said you were the one who signed the papers.”
Luca went completely still.
“What papers?”
Teresa pulled back, wiping her eyes. “The papers to send me to Sunset Pines.”
My blood ran cold. Sunset Pines wasn’t a retirement home. It was a high-security psychiatric facility on the outskirts of Chicago, known for keeping its patients heavily sedated and entirely isolated.
“I never signed any papers,” Luca said, his voice vibrating with suppressed rage.
Vanessa laughed nervously. “Of course you didn’t! Teresa is imagining things again. Please, Luca, let’s just sit down and—”
“Hannah,” Luca interrupted, standing up. “Take my mother to the living room. Stay with her. Do not let Vanessa or Victor out of your sight.”
“Wait,” I said, stopping him as he turned toward the stairs. “Mr. Moretti, Daniel won’t open the door for you.”
Luca frowned. “He’s my son.”
“I know,” I said softly, my chest aching for the misunderstanding between them. “But Daniel thinks you signed those papers. He thinks you chose Vanessa over your mother. That’s why he was hiding the folder.”
Luca closed his eyes for a brief second, the pain of a father realizing he had been painted as a monster to his own child crossing his face.
“Come with me, Hannah,” he commanded.
I helped Teresa to one of the velvet armchairs by the fireplace. I told the guards to watch the door, then I followed Luca up the grand mahogany staircase.
We reached Daniel’s door at the end of the hall. Luca knocked gently.
“Danny? It’s Dad.”
Silence.
“Danny, please open the door. You’re not in trouble.”
“Go away!” a muffled, tear-choked voice yelled from inside. “You’re just going to send me away too!”
Luca looked at me, completely heartbroken.
I stepped up to the door. “Daniel? It’s Hannah.”
The silence stretched. Then, I heard the soft click of the lock turning.
The door opened an inch. Daniel’s pale, tear-stained face peered out. His left arm was still in a heavy cast.
“Hannah?” he whispered.
“Can we come in, sweetie?” I asked. “Your dad wants to see what you found. The blue folder.”
Daniel’s eyes darted to his father, full of distrust. He slowly opened the door.
His room was dark. But what caught my eye immediately was the fireplace in the corner of his bedroom.
There were charred pieces of paper sitting in the ashes.
Luca rushed forward, falling to his knees in front of the cold hearth. He carefully pulled out a half-burned piece of thick, legal document paper.
He held it up to the light.
It was the admission form for Sunset Pines Psychiatric Facility. Patient name: Teresa Moretti.
At the bottom of the page was a signature.
Luca’s breath hitched.
He turned around, holding the burned paper up for Daniel to see.
“Danny,” Luca whispered, his voice trembling. “Who told you I signed this?”
Daniel sniffled, wiping his nose with his good arm.
“Vanessa did,” the boy cried. “She showed it to me the night of the party. She said if I didn’t stop visiting Grandma, she was going to use this paper to lock her up forever.”
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