Chapter 7 – The Woman Who Wanted Everything Erased

Luca stared at the sentence.

Then he turned the page.

I was standing beside the sitting-room doorway with a fresh pot of coffee when he asked me to stay.

“Charlotte, have you seen this proposal before?”

I looked at the document.

“No, sir.”

It was a detailed plan for the mansion’s redesign.

Not just Isabelle’s bedroom.

The upstairs sitting area.

The family breakfast room.

The music room.

Even the small hallway where Caroline’s favorite watercolor paintings still hung.

Every room contained instructions for removing personal items.

Some were described as outdated.

Others were labeled unsuitable for the new interior design.

Then I saw the music room.

The grand piano.

Caroline had taught Isabelle to play on it.

The proposal marked it for relocation to private storage.

Luca read the line aloud.

“Remove piano to create space for wedding entertainment.”

He looked toward Vanessa.

She stood beside the fireplace.

Her face was pale.

“That’s a preliminary design.”

“Why wasn’t I shown it?”

“You were shown the general concept.”

“You showed me new curtains and furniture samples.”

“Because you told me you trusted my judgment.”

He looked at her.

“I trusted you to help me build a home. Not erase the one my daughter already had.”

Vanessa pressed her lips together.

“Every room in this house belongs to Caroline.”

Luca didn’t answer.

She continued.

“The piano. The furniture. The pictures. Even the flowers in the garden.”

“Because she lived here.”

“And I don’t.”

He studied her.

“Vanessa, you’ve lived here for nearly a year.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

She looked toward the music room.

“I can spend an entire afternoon arranging dinner, and Isabelle will walk in carrying something Caroline made, and suddenly nobody remembers anything I’ve done.”

Luca’s expression softened slightly.

“That isn’t what happens.”

“It is what it feels like.”

I watched her struggle to maintain her composure.

Then she looked at him.

“Do you know what it’s like being invited into a family where the person before you is remembered as a saint?”

He was silent.

“She was kind. She was talented. She loved children. She knew exactly how to make you happy.”

Vanessa gave a brittle laugh.

“How was I supposed to compete with that?”

“You weren’t.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Luca set down the proposal.

“Caroline was my wife. She was Isabelle’s mother. But she was also a person. We argued. We made mistakes. We had difficult years.”

Vanessa looked at him.

“Then why don’t you ever talk about those things?”

He paused.

“Because Isabelle lost her mother when she was eight. She doesn’t need me turning her memories into a list of complaints.”

Vanessa lowered her eyes.

Luca continued.

“But I should’ve talked to you about my grief. Instead, I avoided it.”

For a moment, Vanessa looked relieved.

As though his admission might rescue their relationship.

Then he added, “And you should’ve told me how you felt instead of taking it out on my daughter.”

Her face tightened.

“I never meant to hurt her.”

I couldn’t remain silent.

“Miss Bellini?”

She turned toward me.

“What?”

I thought about the broken music box.

The packed suitcase.

The note Isabelle had written to her father.

“She’s been afraid for weeks.”

Vanessa’s expression hardened.

“Charlotte, this is a private conversation.”

Luca looked at me.

“Go on.”

I swallowed.

“Isabelle started sleeping with her bedroom light on again last month.”

He frowned.

“She hasn’t done that since Caroline died.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why didn’t I know?”

“Because she told Mrs. Carter she didn’t want you worrying.”

Vanessa looked away.

I continued.

“She also stopped playing the music box downstairs.”

Luca stared at me.

“Why?”

“Miss Bellini said it disturbed the evenings.”

Vanessa folded her arms.

“Because it played the same melody over and over.”

Luca looked toward the hallway.

He seemed to be remembering something.

A night when Isabelle had appeared beside his chair.

A little music box in her hands.

And Vanessa asking her to take it upstairs.

He closed his eyes.

“I told her to listen to Vanessa.”

Nobody spoke.

Finally, he looked up.

“I told my daughter to stop playing her mother’s music because I was tired.”

Vanessa stepped toward him.

“Luca, you couldn’t have known—”

“I could have asked.”

That silenced her.

He looked toward me.

“Charlotte, please ask Mrs. Carter to make sure Isabelle is comfortable tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And no more changes to her room.”

“Of course.”

I turned to leave.

Then Vanessa spoke.

“What happens to us?”

Luca looked at her.

She touched her stomach.

“And the baby?”

He was quiet for a long moment.

Finally, he answered.

“The baby is mine, and I’ll take responsibility for my child.”

Vanessa’s eyes filled.

“But?”

“But being pregnant doesn’t give you permission to frighten Isabelle out of her home.”

She looked down.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

The question was gentle.

That somehow made it worse.

Vanessa began crying.

For the first time, she seemed less concerned with defending her decisions than with the possibility that she’d destroyed the relationship she’d been trying to protect.

Luca picked up the proposal again.

Then he turned to the last page.

There was a second schedule attached.

It listed the dates of each room’s renovation.

The music room.

The dining room.

The upstairs hall.

And Isabelle’s bedroom.

Beside the final room was a handwritten note.

Complete after child relocation. Do not return existing furnishings.

Luca stared at it.

“Vanessa, you said Isabelle would come home after the renovation.”

She wiped her eyes.

“Yes.”

He held up the document.

“Then why does this say her furniture wasn’t coming back?”

Vanessa didn’t answer.

He looked at her for a long time.

Then he asked quietly:

“Were you ever planning to let my daughter come home?”

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