Chapter 8 - For Isabella
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Luca stopped moving. The breath seemed to completely leave his lungs.
Vanessa whispered, “It was broken, Luca. It was trash.”
He turned toward her slowly, his eyes wide and dark. “What child’s bench?”
She said nothing, staring at the floor.
The mover answered for her. “It had a name carved underneath it, sir.”
Luca’s face tightened in agony. “What name?”
The man looked nervously at Vanessa before answering. “Isabella.”
A collective gasp rippled through the older staff members in the room.
Isabella. Luca’s younger sister. The woman their mother had saved the piano for. Isabella was the golden child of the Moretti family, fiercely protected by Luca.
Luca stepped completely away from the keyboard, his entire demeanor shifting from quiet anger to explosive urgency.
“Where is it?” Luca demanded, his voice cracking.
The mover hesitated, taking a step back. “Miss Bellini had us put it in the back of the truck. It’s supposed to go to the dump.”
“Bring it back here,” Luca roared. “Now!”
Vanessa suddenly lunged forward, grabbing Luca’s arm with both hands. “No, Luca, please! Don't look at it!”
He looked down at her hands gripping his sleeve with absolute disgust. He didn't push her away; he just stared at her hands until she slowly, fearfully released him.
“Why?” Luca asked, his voice dangerously soft.
“It’s ruined,” Vanessa cried, tears finally spilling down her cheeks. “It’s rotting wood!”
“Bring it back,” Luca repeated to the mover, not taking his eyes off his fiancée.
The mover disappeared down the hall at a dead sprint.
Two agonizing minutes later, he returned carrying a small, worn wooden piano bench. It was painted a faded white. One leg was severely cracked, held together by old wood glue. The velvet cushion on top was torn and frayed.
And across the underside, carved deeply by hand, were the words:
FOR ISABELLA — LOVE, MOM
Luca walked over to the mover and gently took the small bench. He ran his calloused fingers over the carved letters, his eyes shining with unshed tears.
Then, he noticed the bottom panel.
It was splintered. The wood had been violently pried open. Recently. Fresh splinters stuck out at awkward angles.
He looked at Vanessa. The look in his eyes promised absolute destruction.
“What was inside this?” Luca asked quietly.
“Nothing,” she sobbed.
He turned the child’s bench upside down on the marble floor. A narrow, hidden compartment had been carved into the underside of the seat.
It was completely empty.
Luca’s expression went completely still.
The mover cleared his throat awkwardly. “Sir…”
May you like
“What?” Luca snapped.
“When we loaded it into the truck an hour ago,” the mover said, pointing to the empty compartment. “There was something inside.”
