Chapter 3 – The Permission He Never Remembered Giving

Luca read the last sentence again.

Then he folded the paper with extraordinary care.

“Isabelle, look at me.”

She lifted her face.

“Your daddy already misses you when you’re at school.”

She blinked.

“Really?”

“Every day.”

“Then why are you always working?”

The question stopped him.

Vanessa shifted near the doorway.

I expected Luca to give Isabelle the answer adults usually gave children.

Something about important responsibilities.

Or making sure the family had everything it needed.

Instead, he said, “Because I’ve been making some bad choices about my time.”

Isabelle considered that.

“Can you make better ones?”

“Yes.”

“Starting tomorrow?”

He nodded.

“Starting tomorrow.”

She leaned against him again.

But her expression remained uncertain.

I knew why.

Children who have been frightened for a long time don’t suddenly feel safe because someone makes a promise.

They need to see what happens afterward.

Susan Palmer appeared in the doorway carrying a flat gray portfolio.

“Mr. Moretti, I brought the renovation documents.”

Luca stood.

“Thank you.”

Isabelle looked toward the drawings.

“Is that my new room?”

Susan hesitated.

“It’s the proposed design.”

“Can I see?”

Luca looked at his daughter.

“Would you like to?”

She nodded.

Susan placed the portfolio on Isabelle’s desk.

The first drawing showed a bedroom with pale-green walls, modern furniture, and a large white bed.

The next showed a nursery.

Soft cream carpeting.

A white crib.

A rocking chair.

Isabelle looked at the chair.

“That’s not Mommy’s.”

“No, sweetheart,” Susan said.

Isabelle studied the drawing.

“Where is mine?”

Susan looked at Luca.

Then at Vanessa.

“It wasn’t included in the new design.”

Luca turned another page.

The nursery occupied Isabelle’s existing bedroom.

The proposed bedroom for Isabelle was in the west wing.

Smaller.

Farther from Luca’s room.

And separated by a long hallway from the rooms the family used every day.

Luca examined the floor plan.

“Why was her room moved to the other side of the house?”

Vanessa answered quietly.

“The west wing is peaceful.”

“It’s also the wing we’ve barely used since Caroline died.”

“I thought Isabelle might like more privacy.”

Isabelle looked at her.

“I don’t.”

Nobody answered immediately.

She pointed at the nursery drawing.

“Does the baby get my window?”

Luca followed her finger.

The nursery windows overlooked the garden.

The same view Caroline had loved.

“Yes,” Susan admitted.

Isabelle swallowed.

“Mommy used to put flowers there.”

Luca closed the portfolio.

“Then the nursery will be somewhere else.”

Vanessa looked upset.

“You haven’t even seen the alternatives.”

“I’ve seen enough to know Isabelle wasn’t included in the decision.”

Susan opened a separate folder.

“Mr. Moretti, I need to clarify something.”

Luca turned toward her.

“Yes?”

“My company doesn’t begin work on an occupied child’s bedroom without written authorization from a parent or legal guardian.”

“Good.”

Susan looked uncomfortable.

“We were told authorization had been obtained.”

Luca frowned.

“By whom?”

“Miss Bellini.”

He looked toward Vanessa.

She folded her arms.

“I told Susan you’d approved the general renovation.”

“I approved work in the guest suites.”

“And the wedding preparations.”

“Yes.”

“We discussed the children’s rooms.”

Luca’s expression hardened.

“There is one child living in this house.”

Vanessa looked away.

Susan reached into the folder.

“There was a signed preliminary approval.”

She passed him a page.

Luca read it.

His face changed.

It was his signature.

I watched him examine the date.

Four weeks earlier.

He looked at Vanessa.

“I remember signing this.”

Vanessa immediately straightened.

“Exactly.”

Luca continued reading.

It was a household renovation authorization.

He’d approved general work and placed the budget under Vanessa’s supervision.

His signature was unmistakable.

For a moment, I saw Isabelle looking at him.

The tiny hope in her face faded.

“Daddy?”

He looked up.

“Yes?”

“Did you say I could go?”

“No, sweetheart.”

“But that’s your name.”

He swallowed.

“Yes. It is.”

Vanessa spoke quickly.

“Luca, I didn’t forge anything. You trusted me to manage the renovations.”

“I trusted you to manage renovations. Not decide where my daughter lives.”

He looked at the document again.

Then at Isabelle.

“But I should’ve read what I signed.”

She stared at him.

“Why didn’t you?”

He couldn’t answer immediately.

Finally, he said, “Because I thought somebody else was taking care of things.”

Isabelle looked down.

“Me?”

Luca’s expression crumpled.

“No, sweetheart. I thought somebody else was taking care of the house.”

He crouched.

“You should never have been one of the things I stopped paying attention to.”

She nodded uncertainly.

Vanessa turned away.

Susan quietly gathered the drawings.

Then something caught my eye.

A second authorization sheet had slipped from beneath the portfolio.

It contained a different heading.

Residential Transition — Child Adjustment Plan.

I had spent fourteen months sorting documents and organizing the Moretti household.

I knew the difference between renovation paperwork and private family correspondence.

This was neither.

I picked it up.

“Mr. Moretti?”

He turned.

I handed him the page.

There was no signature at the bottom.

Only typed instructions.

Temporary residential placement to begin before wedding celebrations.

Child’s personal effects to be relocated separately.

Long-term room assignment pending household adjustment.

Luca read every line.

Then looked at Vanessa.

“Who prepared this?”

She didn’t answer.

Susan looked alarmed.

“I’ve never seen that document.”

Luca turned the page over.

On the back was a handwritten note in Vanessa’s familiar sloping script.

Do not discuss the duration with Isabelle until after she arrives.

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