Chapter 6 - THE SISTER WHO REMEMBERED EVERYTHING“Don't touch me.”
Those were the first words Isabella Moretti spoke when her brother entered the private hospital room.
Luca stopped immediately.
He stood just inside the doorway wearing the same black suit from his engagement dinner.
But he no longer looked like the feared businessman who had ruled a room full of powerful men.
He looked like a frightened sixteen-year-old boy.
A boy who had suddenly been given another chance to protect his sister.
Isabella sat against a white pillow.
Her dark hair fell around her shoulders.
There were faint bruises on her wrists.
A nurse had replaced her old hospital gown with soft blue pajamas, and someone had placed a warm blanket across her knees.
She stared at Luca.
Her eyes were his eyes.
The resemblance was devastating.
“Bella?”
She flinched.
“Don't call me that.”
Luca nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
She looked toward the nurse standing near the window.
“Who is he?”
The nurse answered gently.
“His name is Luca Moretti.”
Isabella stared at him.
Then she shook her head.
“No.”
Luca didn't move.
“It's me.”
“My brother died.”
“I know they told you that.”
“They showed me his grave.”
Luca swallowed.
“They showed me yours too.”
Isabella's face changed.
For a moment, she seemed unable to understand.
Then she whispered:
“Mine?”
He nodded.
“I thought you were dead, Bella.”
Her eyes filled.
“But I was here.”
Luca's voice broke.
“I know.”
“I was here the whole time.”
He lowered his head.
“I know.”
She began shaking.
“Where were you?”
It wasn't an accusation.
That made it hurt more.
“I was in Chicago.”
“With our father?”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes.
“Then you knew.”
Luca looked up.
“No.”
“You lived with him.”
“I did.”
“You ate dinner with him.”
“Yes.”
“You celebrated birthdays.”
Luca's throat tightened.
“Yes.”
Isabella turned away.
“And I waited.”
There was nothing Luca could say that would make those twenty-two years disappear.
So he didn't try.
He pulled a chair closer but stopped several feet from her bed.
“May I sit?”
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
He sat.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Outside the window, rain moved across the hospital parking lot.
Then Isabella looked at his hands.
“Do you still collect rocks?”
Luca blinked.
“What?”
“When we were little, you used to put rocks in your pockets.”
A small smile touched his face.
“I remember.”
“You told me they were treasure.”
“They were.”
She looked at him carefully.
“What was the best one?”
Luca stared at her.
Then answered:
“The green one.”
Her lips parted.
He continued.
“The one shaped like a heart. I found it beside the creek.”
Isabella's breathing changed.
“You gave it to me.”
He nodded.
“Because you said green was the color of brave people.”
A tear rolled down her cheek.
“I still have it.”
Luca froze.
“What?”
She touched the blanket.
“They let me keep one little box.”
Her voice became faint.
“I kept it under my bed. They took everything else when they moved me, but Rachel found it.”
The nurse approached with a small plastic belongings bag.
Inside was a faded blue pouch.
Isabella opened it slowly.
A little green stone fell into her palm.
Smooth.
Heart-shaped.
Worn by decades of careful handling.
Luca stared at it.
And began to cry.
Not loudly.
He bent forward, covering his face with one hand as tears slipped between his fingers.
Isabella watched him.
For years, she'd been taught that crying meant weakness.
That grief was disruptive.
That anger would lead to punishment.
Now she was watching a grown man cry because he had finally found her.
She held out the stone.
“You can have it back.”
Luca shook his head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I gave it to you.”
She looked at the stone.
Then whispered:
“You kept your promise.”
“What promise?”
“That when I was scared, you'd come find me.”
Luca's face crumpled.
“I was twenty-two years late.”
Isabella slowly reached across the space between them.
Her fingers touched his hand.
It was a small gesture.
But Luca looked at that touch as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
He didn't pull her closer.
He didn't assume she wanted a hug.
He simply let her hold his hand.
And for the first time in twenty-two years, Isabella sat beside someone who remembered her before the locked doors.
Two hours later, Detective Mercer arrived with a woman named Dr. Evelyn Carter, a trauma specialist unaffiliated with St. Catherine's.
They explained that Isabella would receive an independent medical evaluation and that investigators wanted to interview her only when she felt ready.
Luca agreed immediately.
Isabella looked surprised.
“You're not going to make me answer questions?”
“No,” he said.
“But they want to know what happened.”
“I know.”
“Won't you be angry if I don't tell them?”
Luca shook his head.
“You've spent enough years being told what to do.”
She studied him.
Then nodded.
I entered the room carrying a paper bag from the hospital cafeteria.
I had bought sandwiches, bottled water, and a small container of sliced strawberries.
Isabella looked at me.
“Who are you?”
“Emma Sullivan.”
“Are you a doctor?”
I smiled.
“No. I work at your brother's house.”
She looked toward Luca.
“You have a house?”
He gave a faint smile.
“A pretty big one.”
“Does it have a garden?”
“Yes.”
Her expression changed.
“Real flowers?”
“Lots of them.”
She thought for a moment.
“Can I see them someday?”
Luca's eyes softened.
“Whenever you're ready.”
I set the bag on the table.
“Would you like something to eat?”
Isabella looked at the strawberries.
“Are those for me?”
“Of course.”
She glanced at Luca.
“Do I have to ask?”
The question silenced the room.
At St. Catherine's, even small comforts had been controlled.
Luca struggled to keep his voice steady.
“No, Bella.”
He pushed the container toward her.
“You don't have to ask permission to eat strawberries.”
She picked up one carefully.
Then another.
And smiled.
It was the first unguarded smile I'd seen on her face.
For a moment, the room felt warm.
Almost peaceful.
But peace didn't last.
David Whitman appeared at the door.
His expression was grim.
“Luca. We need to talk.”
Luca stepped into the hallway.
I followed a few moments later, leaving Isabella with her nurse.
David held up a photograph.
It showed Vanessa Bellini entering a building with a glass front and a silver company logo.
Meridian Holdings.
The photograph was dated two days before the engagement dinner.
“She wasn't just signing documents,” David said.
Luca frowned.
“What was she doing?”
David handed him another page.
“A private investigator working for your father obtained this before he disappeared.”
Luca stared at the document.
It was an old birth record.
Two names.
Luca Antonio Moretti.
Isabella Lucia Moretti.
Same birthday.
Same mother.
But beside Isabella's name was a handwritten notation.
Status amended—sealed by court order.
Luca looked at David.
“What does this mean?”
David swallowed.
“It means your sister wasn't simply hidden.”
He lowered his voice.
May you like
“Someone legally erased her identity.”
END OF CHAPTER 6
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