Chapter 5 - THE HOUSE WITH SOFIA’S PICTURES
I moved into Luca’s guesthouse three days later.
Temporarily.
Very temporarily.
I repeated that distinction to Grace fourteen times.
Grace was my best friend from community college and possessed no instinct for self-preservation.
“The mafia boss moved you into his estate?”
“Guesthouse.”
“With guards?”
“Security.”
“Hot guards?”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Avery.”
“What?”
“This is either the beginning of the worst decision of your life or the greatest romance novel ever written.”
“There is no romance.”
“You keep saying that.”
“He is my dead sister’s husband.”
“Technically widower.”
“Grace.”
“I’m done.”
She was not done.
She never was.
The practical reason for staying near Luca was Leo.
And safety.
Somebody had already broken into my apartment.
The district attorney’s office was reviewing Rocco’s finances and the crash evidence.
Elena Park advised me not to return home until they understood whether the burglary was connected.
So I stayed.
Luca’s property surprised me.
I expected marble.
Cold furniture.
Men whispering in hallways.
Instead, the kitchen contained plastic baby bowls.
Leo’s toys occupied half the living room.
The refrigerator had magnetic alphabet letters.
A framed photograph of Sofia stood beside Luca’s coffee machine.
She was laughing.
Really laughing.
Not posed.
I stopped.
Luca entered behind me.
“That was in Maine.”
“She looks happy.”
“She was.”
No defensive hesitation.
I appreciated that.
“Tell me about her.”
Luca looked surprised.
“You want to know?”
“She was my sister.”
The sentence still felt strange.
He poured coffee.
“She was stubborn.”
“Good.”
“Terrible driver.”
“That seems less good considering—”
He looked at me.
I winced.
“Sorry.”
Then Luca laughed.
A real laugh.
It changed his entire face.
“Sofia would have made the same joke.”
Something inside me hurt.
“Was she funny?”
“Constantly.”
“Mom’s letter said I joke when I’m afraid.”
“Sofia joked when she was angry.”
“So together we would have been exhausting.”
“Completely.”
He told me more.
Sofia hated expensive restaurants.
Loved gas-station candy.
Could read financial statements for fun.
Refused to let Luca’s staff carry her grocery bags because she thought it was ridiculous.
Loved thunderstorms.
Feared elevators.
“She sang the Silver Bird lullaby every night.”
“Mom did too.”
Luca looked at me.
“How did it go?”
I sang softly.
Not well.
Three notes.
Then the higher phrase.
Luca closed his eyes.
“That’s it.”
Leo, sitting in his high chair, immediately turned.
His spoon dropped.
He reached toward me.
I laughed.
“I’ve created a monster.”
Luca smiled.
“A very small one.”
I approached.
Leo touched my cheek.
Then leaned toward the photograph of Sofia.
For the first time, I understood why he reacted.
Not magic.
Not some mystical blood recognition.
I resembled her.
My voice carried traces of the same mother.
I wore the matching necklace.
And I sang a melody Leo associated with safety.
That made sense.
It also made it sadder.
“I don’t want him confusing us.”
I told Luca later.
“He won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he knows Sofia from photographs.”
“He’s ten months old.”
“He will know her from me.”
The certainty in Luca’s voice stopped me.
“He will know her stories.”
He looked at the photograph.
“He will know she hated cilantro and cheated at Scrabble and once threw my phone into a fountain because I answered a call during our first anniversary.”
I smiled.
“Really?”
“It was waterproof.”
“Tragic.”
Luca continued.
“I will never tell him his mother disappeared and then you came.”
My throat tightened.
“You won’t disappear her.”
“No.”
That was when I began trusting him.
Not completely.
Enough for one day.
The reopened investigation brought ugly facts slowly.
The vehicle registered to Rocco’s company had been driven by an employee named Daniel Croft.
Croft initially told investigators he was nowhere near Sofia.
Traffic cameras contradicted him.
He changed his statement.
He claimed Rocco had asked him to follow Sofia because she was “taking family documents.”
Not harm her.
Follow.
Then Croft admitted there had been a confrontation at a gas station before Sofia continued driving.
What happened afterward remained uncertain.
No one jumped instantly to conclusions.
The prosecutor did not call it murder.
Neither did Luca.
But the accident no longer looked simple.
Rocco hired attorneys.
Then he came for Leo.
Not literally.
Legally.
A petition arrived alleging Luca’s home had become unstable.
Rocco claimed Luca was dismantling family businesses recklessly, exposing his son to “dangerous strangers,” and allowing an unrelated waitress to assume a maternal role.
Me.
I read the filing twice.
“Unrelated?”
Luca looked furious.
“Elena will handle it.”
“I am biologically Leo’s aunt.”
“We’ll establish that.”
“What does Rocco want?”
“Control.”
“Of Leo?”
“Of me.”
There it was.
Rocco knew exactly where Luca could still be controlled.
His son.
We submitted the DNA results.
Sofia’s letters.
Evidence that she herself had sought me.
The petition lost much of its force.
But Rocco was not finished.
He leaked information to a gossip site.
MAFIA WIDOWER MOVES WAITRESS INTO FAMILY HOME MONTHS AFTER WIFE’S DEATH.
Photographs showed me entering the property.
One showed me carrying Leo.
Another showed Luca touching my back while guiding me through a crowd.
The article implied romance.
I wanted to disappear.
At work, customers stared.
Greg offered me time off.
“I don’t want time off.”
“Avery, someone asked if they could take a selfie with you.”
“I’m going to prison.”
“For what?”
“Murder.”
He laughed.
Then became serious.
“You okay?”
“No.”
Good answer.
I went home—
Luca’s home.
Temporary home.
And found him in the library with Elena.
“I’m moving out.”
Luca stood.
“No.”
“You don’t own that word.”
He stopped.
Good.
“I will not be used to hurt Leo.”
“This article doesn’t hurt Leo.”
“The custody petition does.”
“Rocco filed it before the article.”
“Because I’m here.”
“No.”
Luca stepped closer.
“Because I stopped obeying him.”
I stared.
“He would have found something else.”
“Maybe.”
“Avery.”
He softened.
“You leaving teaches him pressure works.”
That irritated me because it sounded true.
“I’m not staying to prove a point either.”
“Then stay because your apartment isn’t safe.”
I folded my arms.
“And because Leo cries when you leave.”
“That is emotional manipulation.”
“I know.”
“At least you admit it.”
He almost smiled.
Then Elena interrupted.
“Both of you stop.”
We looked at her.
She held a tablet.
“Sofia created a trust.”
Luca frowned.
“What trust?”
“Six weeks before she died.”
His face changed.
“I knew about Leo’s trust.”
“Not this one.”
Elena turned the screen.
THE SILVER BIRD TRUST
Beneficiary:
Leonardo Sofia Moretti.
Independent emergency co-trustee upon verified identification:
Avery Bennett, biological daughter of Claire Bennett.
I stared.
“No.”
Luca looked equally shocked.
“She named Avery?”
“Yes.”
“She had never met her.”
Elena nodded.
“Sofia included a letter.”
My hands began shaking.
Elena read:
If Avery is found and wishes no involvement, leave her alone.
If she wishes to know Leo, let her decide what that relationship becomes.
I am naming her not because blood creates obligation.
It does not.
I am naming her because if I am right about what is happening inside the Moretti family, Leo may someday need one adult whose loyalty is to him and not to the name.
The room became silent.
I whispered:
“She trusted me without knowing me.”
Elena shook her head.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“She gave you the option to say no.”
That was different.
And somehow more meaningful.
Luca looked down.
“Sofia really thought something would happen.”
“Yes.”
His grief became visible.
“She knew.”
I stepped closer.
“She was preparing.”
“For my failure.”
“No.”
His eyes lifted.
“For Leo’s protection.”
Luca turned away.
“I should have listened sooner.”
I did not tell him it wasn’t his fault.
Some of it was.
Not Sofia’s death.
But the delay.
The refusal to challenge Rocco.
The comfort of not asking.
Instead I said:
“You’re listening now.”
Luca looked at me.
And something between us changed.
Not romance.
Not yet.
Respect.
Then Elena’s phone buzzed.
She read a message.
Her face tightened.
“What?”
Luca asked.
“Rocco called a family meeting tomorrow.”
“So?”
“He invited every Moretti shareholder.”
Luca’s expression became cold.
“Why?”
Elena looked at him.
“He’s trying to remove you from the companies before you can separate them.”
I expected Luca to look angry.
Instead, he looked relieved.
“Good.”
I frowned.
“Good?”
He turned toward me.
“If they want the name more than they want my son safe…”
His voice became quiet.
May you like
“…they can have the name.”
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