Chapter 5: Giovanni’s Letter
Luca read the attorney’s name again, then placed Giovanni’s note on the desk as carefully as if the paper might disappear.
“Before we treat this as proof of anything,” he said, “I want to verify who wrote it and what she actually has.”
Teresa sat against the pillows, her hands folded in her lap. “Your father trusted Eleanor.”
“I believe you, Mom. But I want to hear it from her.”
He took out his phone and called the number listed beneath Price and Caldwell. The office was closed, but a recorded message gave an emergency contact for existing clients. Luca left his name, the name on the note, and a number where he could be reached.
Then he put the phone away.
“Now we wait,” he said.
Teresa looked at the envelope holding the photographed ledger page. “I thought those papers were gone.”
“So did I.”
“Your father said he’d left instructions,” she murmured. “I should have remembered.”
“You’ve been carrying enough without blaming yourself for what you don’t remember.”
She looked toward me. I knew that expression: Teresa was grateful, but also bracing for someone to make decisions on her behalf.
“You don’t have to go anywhere or speak to anyone before you’re ready,” Luca told her. “If Eleanor has a letter, we’ll ask what you want to know. We won’t decide for you.”
Teresa breathed out slowly. “I want to know what Giovanni planned. I don’t want anyone using my memory as a reason to keep me in the dark.”
“Then we’ll find out.”
Luca glanced at me. “Hannah, you don’t have to stay up waiting on this.”
“I’m not waiting because it’s my job.”
His expression softened, but he didn’t argue. He only asked if I wanted tea. It was a small question, and that was why I appreciated it.
The call came shortly before nine the next morning. Luca had been at the desk in Giovanni’s bedroom, the note and ledger page sealed in an envelope beside him. Teresa was downstairs in her own room, having chosen to eat breakfast there. I had brought her tea and toast, then returned to the hall when Luca answered.
“Mr. Moretti?” a woman asked through the speaker.
“Yes. Eleanor Price?”
“Yes. I received your message. You said you found a note bearing Giovanni’s name?”
“I found it in a concealed compartment in his desk. It directs me to you. I have the original here.”
There was a brief pause.
“Do not send it by email or leave it with anyone,” she said. “Can you bring it to my office this morning?”
“I can. But before I do, I need to know whether you’re actually the attorney he meant.”
“That’s a fair question. I can confirm that I represented Giovanni Moretti. I won’t discuss the contents of his file over an unverified call, but I can tell you what to bring and verify the note in person.”
Luca looked at me. His face remained composed, but his thumb pressed hard against the edge of his phone.
“What else do you have?” he asked.
“Records and instructions he placed in my custody. There is also a sealed letter.”
“Addressed to me?”
“To you and your brother.”
Luca’s gaze dropped to the envelope on the desk. “Why wasn’t it delivered?”
“Your father gave me specific instructions about how it was to be kept. I think you should hear the rest in person.”
Luca was quiet for a moment.
“Can my mother come?”
“She is welcome, if she wishes.”
When he ended the call, he didn’t announce a plan. He went downstairs and asked Teresa if she wanted to visit Eleanor Price’s office. He told her she could stay home, and that nothing would be opened or read without her agreement.
Teresa listened, then took a sip of tea.
“I want to go,” she said. “I want to hear what he left for both of you.”
Luca nodded. “All right.”
He turned to me. “Would you like to come with us?”
I thought of my mother, her recovery, the bills that still waited at home. I also thought of Teresa’s hand gripping mine at the dinner table, and of how easily adults in that house had mistaken silence for consent.
“I’ll come if Teresa wants me there,” I said.
“I do,” Teresa replied.
Luca arranged a car and called the house manager to let him know we would be gone for part of the morning. Before we left, he made sure Teresa had her medication and her coat. He did not tell her what to wear, how long she could stay, or whether she might be too tired. He asked. She answered. It should have been ordinary. In that house, lately, it felt like a beginning.
Price and Caldwell occupied a quiet suite in a brick office building downtown. Eleanor Price met us herself. She was a silver-haired woman with a calm voice and a direct gaze. After introducing herself, she asked Luca to confirm his identity and Teresa to confirm hers. Then she asked whether they were comfortable with me remaining in the room.
Teresa answered before Luca could.
“Yes. Hannah stays.”
Eleanor nodded and led us into a conference room. Luca placed Giovanni’s note on the table, still inside its protective sleeve. Eleanor examined the writing without touching the paper.
“I recognize his handwriting,” she said. “I have letters and signed documents in my file that I can compare it with. The style is consistent.”
“Is that enough to prove it’s his?” Luca asked.
“It is a strong indication, not a forensic certification. If you need formal authentication, we can discuss that. For today, I can confirm the note matches the writing I knew and the records he left with me.”
She retrieved a slim file from a locked cabinet. Inside was a sealed envelope, its flap intact. Giovanni’s name was written across the front. Beneath it were the words: FOR MY SONS.
Teresa touched her fingertips to her lips.
“That’s his writing,” she whispered.
Eleanor set the envelope in the center of the table.
“Giovanni instructed me to preserve this and not deliver it to either of you,” she said. “He wanted it kept sealed until one of his sons came to me in person and asked for the records and instructions he had entrusted to me.”
Luca leaned forward. “Why?”
“His instructions did not give me permission to make that choice for him. I was to keep the letter safe, keep the records secure, and wait.”
“Did you know why he wanted it handled that way?”
“Only what he told me while arranging it. He believed he might not be able to explain his decision to you himself.”
Teresa kept her eyes on the envelope. “May we open it?”
Eleanor looked at Luca, then at Teresa.
“Mr. Moretti, you may open the letter addressed to you and your brother. Mrs. Moretti, you are welcome to listen. Is that what you both want?”
“Yes,” Luca said.
Teresa nodded.
Luca broke the seal.
The paper inside was folded once. He read the first few lines silently, then stopped and looked at his mother.
“Do you want me to read it aloud?”
“Yes.”
He began.
“‘My sons, if you are reading this, I have failed to explain what I intended to do while I was still able. I had hoped to speak to you both plainly.’”
His voice caught on the word both. He paused, swallowed, and continued.
“‘I have decided to end the family’s criminal operations and make a full accounting of its financial dealings. I will not allow the name I built to become an excuse for continuing what should never have been allowed to grow.’”
I watched Teresa. Her eyes stayed fixed on Luca, but her hands had tightened together.
The letter continued. Giovanni wrote that he had placed records with Eleanor, and that their purpose was to make the family’s financial affairs visible—not to protect anyone from what those records might show. He asked his sons to face the truth in the accounts, even if it damaged the reputation they had spent years defending.
Luca reached the last paragraph.
“‘I will explain my decision to each of you when I can. Until then, do not mistake delay for permission to continue as before.’”
He lowered the letter.
No one spoke for several seconds.
Finally, Luca asked, “Does it say anything about the night he died?”
“No,” Eleanor replied. “The letter explains what he intended to do. It cannot tell us what happened in his bedroom later.”
“And these financial records?”
“I preserved what Giovanni gave me. They include material related to his planned accounting. I have not reviewed the contents with you yet. That will take time, and I will need to understand exactly what you’re asking me to examine.”
Luca’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. The letter gave him a reason for the argument with Michael. It did not explain what happened after Michael left. It did not prove why the records were missing, or who had taken them, or what the initials on the torn page meant.
Teresa looked at her son.
“Your father wanted you to know before you decided what to believe about each other.”
Luca folded the letter carefully. “I want the records reviewed by someone independent.”
“That can be arranged,” Eleanor said.
She closed the file, then hesitated.
“There’s another matter I should tell you.”
May you like
Luca looked up.
“Michael called my office recently,” Eleanor said. “He asked whether you had collected your father’s letter.”
