Chapter 4: The Page That Remained
Luca kept his fingertips on the edge of the torn page without pulling.
“Before we move it, let’s get a picture.”
He handed me his phone. I stepped closer and photographed the page where it was caught, first with the lamp shining straight into the compartment, then from an angle. The paper looked fragile enough to crumble if we tugged too hard.
Teresa watched from the chair beside the desk. Her breathing had settled, but her hands were still clasped tightly in her lap.
“Do you want to keep going?” Luca asked her.
She studied the open panel.
“Yes. I want to know what your father left behind.”
Luca found a clean envelope in the desk’s top drawer. He eased the page free, supporting it with the envelope so it wouldn’t bend. A narrow strip of folded paper came with it, tucked against the torn edge.
He stopped as soon as he saw it.
“There’s something else.”
Teresa leaned forward.
“Don’t rush,” I said, though I knew my voice sounded nervous.
“I’m not,” Luca replied.
He set the envelope on the desk and unfolded the ledger page as little as he could. The printed columns were faded, but several handwritten entries remained legible. Dates ran down the left side. Beside them were amounts, abbreviated descriptions, and initials.
Luca bent over the page.
“Do you recognize the handwriting?” he asked his mother.
Teresa shook her head slowly.
“I can’t tell from here.”
I read what I could without touching the paper. The descriptions were clipped and difficult to follow: “North acct.,” “service,” “adjustment.” Several lines ended with the same two letters.
“M.M.,” Luca said.
His voice had gone flat.
The dates were spread across several months. One transfer was marked at twelve thousand dollars. Another was nearly twice that. The page had been torn through the descriptions, leaving no clear explanation for where the money had gone.
Luca lifted his eyes to the doorway.
“Michael.”
His brother appeared a moment later. He looked from Luca to the page, then to the open compartment.
“What did you find?”
“A ledger page. Your initials are beside several transfers.”
Michael stepped into the room, but stopped short of the desk.
“Those could be anything.”
“That’s why I’m asking.”
Michael gave the page a quick glance.
“Dad kept records on everything. He paid vendors, settled old accounts, moved money between companies. Those entries don’t prove anything.”
“I didn’t say they did,” Luca answered. “I asked what they were.”
Michael’s gaze stayed on the page. “Routine business.”
The answer came quickly. Too quickly, I thought—but I had no way to know whether that meant anything.
Luca pointed to one of the dates.
“You told us the account had been closed before spring.”
“It was.”
“This transfer is dated in May.”
“Then the book was updated in May. A date on a ledger doesn’t mean money moved that day.”
Luca glanced down again. “The line says ‘transfer,’ not ‘posted.’”
Michael’s jaw tightened.
“I’m telling you what I remember. Dad had more accounts than either of us knew about.”
“Then you should have no trouble explaining the one with your initials.”
“I just did.”
“No. You told me what Dad used to do. You haven’t told me what these entries mean.”
Michael looked toward Teresa. She was pale, but her eyes were fixed on him.
“You’re tired,” he said to her. “You don’t need to be dragged through this tonight.”
“I’m sitting in my own room,” Teresa said. “No one is dragging me anywhere.”
For a beat, Michael said nothing.
Luca moved the page back onto the envelope.
“We’ll make a copy and have someone independent look at it.”
“An outsider doesn’t understand the family’s business.”
“That’s exactly why we need someone outside the family.”
Michael’s mouth pressed into a thin line.
“Do whatever you want.”
He turned to leave.
“Michael,” Luca said. “Did you know this compartment was here?”
Michael paused in the doorway.
“No.”
The silence afterward was brief, but it seemed to stretch across the room.
“Then why did you look at the floor when I opened it?” Luca asked.
“I was looking at the room.”
Michael left before Luca could ask anything else.
I watched him go, then looked at the page. My mother’s overdue bills flashed through my mind, uninvited. I needed this job. I also knew what it felt like when someone with power expected you to stay quiet because you couldn’t afford not to.
Luca must have noticed my expression.
“You don’t have to be part of this,” he said.
“I know.”
“You can leave the room whenever you want.”
“I know that too.”
He nodded, as if he understood that the words mattered only if he meant them.
Teresa shifted in her chair. I went to her side.
“Would you like to sit somewhere more comfortable?”
“Yes, please.”
I offered my arm, but waited for her to take it. She gripped my sleeve and stood slowly. Luca moved as if to help, then stopped when she reached for him herself.
“I’m all right,” she said. “Just give me a moment.”
We waited. When she was ready, we helped her to the bed. She settled against the pillows, her face drawn with exhaustion.
“Do you want us to keep looking?” Luca asked.
Teresa glanced toward the desk.
“Only if you can do it without turning this room upside down.”
“We can.”
“And don’t let anyone decide what I’m allowed to know.”
“I won’t.”
She looked at me.
“Thank you for staying.”
“I’m right here.”
Luca returned to the desk. He used his phone to photograph both sides of the ledger page, then slid it into the envelope. The small folded strip was still caught against it. He eased it free, keeping it flat against the desk.
The paper opened into a narrow note. The ink had faded to brown, but the handwriting was steady and familiar-looking. Luca stared at it.
“What does it say?” I asked.
“Not sure yet.”
He read the first line silently, then looked at his mother.
“Mom, do you recognize this handwriting?”
Teresa pushed herself up against the pillows. Luca carried the note to her, careful not to let it brush against anything.
She studied it for several seconds.
“Giovanni,” she whispered.
“You’re certain?”
“I’d know his writing anywhere.”
Her voice trembled. She reached toward the note, then stopped short of touching it.
“May I?” she asked.
Luca placed it in her open palm.
She read slowly, moving her lips as she went. When she reached the bottom, she closed her eyes for a moment.
“What is it?” Luca asked.
“Your father wrote it for you.”
“For me?”
“He said there were things he wanted you to know, but not until he had everything in order.” Teresa looked back at the note. “He told me he had left instructions.”
Luca’s face tightened.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know where the instructions were. And after he died, everything became confusion. People came and went. I thought the papers had been lost.”
She handed the note back to him.
Luca read it aloud, his voice quieter now.
“If I cannot explain this myself, speak with my attorney. He has the records and my instructions.”
The next line held a name and an office address. Luca read the name twice.
“Eleanor Price. Price and Caldwell.”
He lowered the note.
“I’ve never heard of her.”
Teresa looked from the handwriting to her son.
“Your father said she would know what to do.”
May you like
Luca stared at the name, then at the nearly empty compartment behind his father’s desk.
His family had buried a secret in that room. Someone had removed most of the papers. And now a note in Giovanni’s own hand pointed to an attorney Luca had never been told about.
