Chapter 3 – The Watch That Changed Everything

“Take off the watch, Michael.”

Luca didn’t raise his voice.

But Michael stepped back as though his brother had shouted.

“It’s Dad’s watch,” he said. “I’ve worn it for four years.”

“Mom says he wanted me to have it.”

“Mom also thinks a water glass was some kind of emergency.”

Teresa flinched.

Luca noticed.

“Take it off.”

Michael looked toward Vanessa.

She didn’t intervene.

Slowly, he unfastened the old leather strap.

He placed the watch on the table.

Luca picked it up.

The face was scratched.

One of the numbers had faded.

It wasn’t expensive by Moretti standards.

Antonio could have owned any watch he wanted.

But he’d worn this one for nearly thirty years.

Luca turned it over.

An inscription had been engraved on the back.

For every hour you gave us.

Beneath it were the names of all three Moretti children, etched years earlier as a Father’s Day gift.

Luca smiled faintly.

“I remember buying this with my first paycheck.”

Michael looked away.

Luca examined the watch more closely.

“The back doesn’t close properly.”

“It’s old,” Michael answered.

Luca pressed the edge.

The metal cover shifted slightly.

Inside was a tiny folded piece of paper.

My breath caught.

Michael reached forward.

“Luca, don’t.”

But Luca had already removed it.

The paper was thin and yellowed.

A portion had been torn along one edge.

There was writing on it.

Antonio’s handwriting.

Luca stared at the first words.

Then his expression changed.

“What is this?”

Michael said nothing.

Luca read aloud.

Look at the household account before you sign anything for Michael.

He stopped.

The room became very quiet.

Teresa pressed her hand against her mouth.

Michael looked down.

Luca read the next line.

Ask about the money from the—

The sentence ended where the paper had been torn.

Luca turned the fragment over.

Nothing.

He looked at Michael.

“What money?”

Michael took a slow breath.

“Dad wasn’t well.”

“What money?”

“Luca, he was taking medication. He became suspicious of everything.”

Luca stared at him.

“Then why keep the note?”

Michael didn’t answer.

Luca held up the paper.

“Four years. You’ve worn this watch for four years. You knew this was inside.”

Michael’s silence answered him.

Teresa began crying.

Luca turned toward her.

“Mom?”

She shook her head.

“I told Antonio not to argue.”

Luca knelt beside her.

“What were they arguing about?”

“Money.”

“Whose money?”

She looked at Michael.

“Your father’s.”

Michael stepped forward.

“That isn’t fair.”

Teresa looked frightened.

“I didn’t mean—”

“You’re making it sound as though I stole from him.”

Luca stood.

“Did you?”

Michael stared at his brother.

“No.”

The answer came quickly.

Too quickly.

“Then explain the note.”

Michael looked toward the windows.

“It was about an investment. Dad and I disagreed about how some money should be used.”

“What investment?”

“Family property.”

Luca frowned.

“We didn’t make any major property investments that year.”

“You weren’t involved in every decision.”

“I managed the family business.”

“And Dad managed his personal money.”

Luca looked at the note again.

He seemed to recognize the distinction.

Antonio Moretti had kept a separate account for household expenses and family obligations.

It wasn’t part of Luca’s business.

Michael had helped their father manage it during his illness.

Luca rarely interfered.

Not because he was uninterested.

Because he trusted his brother.

“Where are Dad’s records?” Luca asked.

Michael shrugged.

“Archived somewhere.”

“Where?”

“I don’t remember.”

Teresa suddenly looked toward me.

“Hannah.”

“Yes, Mrs. Moretti?”

“The green book.”

I frowned.

“What green book?”

“The one Antonio kept beside the telephone.”

Michael’s expression changed.

“Mom, that was an old household notebook.”

Teresa nodded.

“He wrote things down because his hands weren’t steady.”

Luca looked at her.

“What kinds of things?”

“Bills. Appointments. Which gardener was coming. How much he gave the church.”

She paused.

Then added, “And what Michael borrowed.”

Nobody moved.

Michael stared at her.

“Mom.”

She looked at him.

“You told your father you’d put it back.”

Michael’s face flushed.

“That money was never a loan.”

Teresa lowered her eyes.

“That’s what Antonio called it.”

Luca turned toward his brother.

“How much?”

Michael said nothing.

“How much money did Dad lend you?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Give me a number.”

Michael looked away.

“Two hundred thousand.”

Luca went still.

Vanessa stared at Michael.

Even she seemed surprised.

Luca spoke quietly.

“Two hundred thousand dollars?”

Michael nodded.

“For what?”

“My business was struggling.”

Luca frowned.

“You told me the restaurant partnership was doing well.”

“It was. Until it wasn’t.”

“Why didn’t you come to me?”

Michael laughed bitterly.

“Because you’ve spent my entire life fixing things for me.”

The answer surprised Luca.

Michael continued.

“Every time I made a mistake, you stepped in. Every bad investment, every problem, every time I tried to do something on my own.”

Luca stared at him.

“So you went to Dad.”

“Yes.”

“And he helped you?”

“Yes.”

“Then why was he worried enough to write this?”

Michael looked down.

“He wanted repayment before he died.”

Teresa shook her head.

“No.”

Michael turned.

“Mom, please.”

“He wanted you to tell Luca.”

Michael’s jaw tightened.

Teresa looked toward her eldest son.

“Antonio said there was something wrong with the numbers.”

Luca examined the torn paper again.

“Where’s the rest of this note?”

Michael didn’t answer.

“Michael.”

His brother finally looked up.

“I threw it away.”

Luca stared at him.

“Why?”

“Because Dad was accusing me of something I hadn’t done.”

Teresa began rubbing her hands together.

I placed the blanket more securely around her shoulders.

Luca noticed the movement.

He gently set the watch beside her plate.

“Mom, we’ll talk about the money later.”

She nodded gratefully.

Then she looked toward the hallway.

“Can I please go to my room?”

“Of course.”

Vanessa immediately stood.

“Should I ask the driver to wait?”

Luca turned.

“No.”

“But the residence—”

“My mother is staying here.”

Vanessa looked at Michael.

Something passed between them.

A glance.

A brief exchange neither intended anyone to notice.

But I saw it.

And I remembered something from that morning.

Michael had arrived at Teresa’s bedroom carrying a brown leather folder.

After he left, Vanessa came upstairs and asked me whether I’d seen any old household notebooks.

At the time, I’d assumed she was looking for wedding records.

Now I wasn’t so sure.

“Mr. Moretti,” I said carefully, “Mrs. Bellini asked me about a green notebook this morning.”

Vanessa went still.

Luca turned.

“Did she?”

I nodded.

“She asked whether your mother still kept your father’s old household books.”

Vanessa forced a smile.

“I was trying to organize the study.”

Michael looked toward the floor.

Luca held up the torn note.

“Then perhaps you can explain something, Vanessa.”

She swallowed.

He stepped closer.

“How did you know to look for a book my father stopped using four years before you moved into this house?”

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