Chương 4
She wanted to leave.
She had done what she came there to do.
She had stopped something terrible from happening.
But leaving felt wrong.
Isabella kept looking at her.
Not pleading.
Not demanding.
Just looking.
As if her presence alone was an answer.
The doctor finished checking Isabella’s blood pressure and neurological responses.
“She is stable,” he said.
Luca nodded.
“But?”
The doctor removed his glasses and cleaned them with a small cloth.
“There is no medical reason to assume she cannot understand what is happening around her.”
The sentence was careful.
Professional.
But everyone heard what he did not say.
Her body had limitations.
Her mind did not.
Luca looked toward his mother.
“Has anyone been making decisions for you?”
Isabella stared at him.
Her eyes moved toward the hallway.
Then toward the floor.
Then back to him.
The doctor glanced at Naomi.
“Does she have a communication system?”
Naomi nodded.
“She uses small movements.”
“Who taught you?”
Isabella lifted her hand slightly.
The answer was obvious.
The doctor wrote something down.
“Then someone should have documented that.”
Luca’s expression hardened.
“Why wasn’t it documented?”
Nobody answered.
The doctor looked uncomfortable.
He was not part of the family.
He did not carry their history.
He did not understand the invisible pressure inside the mansion.
But he understood neglect when he saw it.
“I would recommend a formal evaluation,” he said.
“Not because I believe she is incapable.”
He paused.
“Because people around her have started acting as if she is.”
After the doctor left, Luca remained in the room.
Naomi noticed he did not immediately follow him out.
He stood beside the piano, staring at the place where Vivian had pushed the document toward Isabella.
The anger he had controlled for hours finally showed itself.
Not loudly.
Just in the way his hand closed around the edge of the piano.
“My mother trusted people in this house.”
Naomi did not answer.
“I was supposed to be one of them.”
The confession surprised her.
She had expected arrogance.
She had expected a man who believed his money could fix anything.
Instead, she saw someone standing in a room full of things he had failed to notice.
“That does not mean you caused it,” Naomi said.
Luca looked at her.
“You do not know that.”
“No.”
She looked down at her torn sleeve.
“But I know blaming yourself will not help her.”
A faint expression crossed his face.
Not a smile.
Something close to disbelief.
“You speak very directly.”
Naomi almost apologized.
The instinct came automatically.
People like her apologized before anyone asked.
Instead, she said, “Usually it gets me in trouble.”
“That does not surprise me.”
The answer was so serious that she almost laughed.
Almost.
The moment disappeared quickly.
A knock came from the doorway.
One of the security staff entered.
“Mr. Moretti.”
Luca turned.
“We checked the security footage.”
Naomi felt her stomach tighten.
“There is a problem.”
“What kind?”
The guard hesitated.
“The camera outside the music room was offline.”
Luca’s face changed.
“When?”
“Twenty-three minutes before Ms. Vivian entered the room.”
“And who disabled it?”
“We are checking.”
Luca looked toward the ceiling.
The mansion suddenly felt different.
Not like a home.
Like a place where someone had been moving quietly while everyone else assumed they were safe.
“Find out.”
The guard nodded and left.
Naomi watched Luca process the information.
She remembered the way Vivian had reacted when she mentioned the document.
Not surprise.
Fear.
A person who was innocent might panic because they were accused.
But Vivian had panicked because something had gone wrong.
That difference mattered.
“Was she always like that?”
Luca looked at Naomi.
“Who?”
“Vivian.”
He was silent.
The pause was longer than Naomi expected.
“She was always ambitious.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Luca looked away.
The answer was there before he gave it.
“No.”
Naomi waited.
“She was not always cruel.”
The admission seemed difficult.
“She helped my family after my father died.”
Naomi noticed the past tense.
“Helped how?”
Luca walked toward the desk near the piano.
He picked up a photograph sitting beside a stack of old music books.
The picture showed Isabella years younger.
Standing beside a grand piano.
Her hand rested on Luca’s shoulder.
He looked younger too.
Not softer exactly.
But less guarded.
“After my father died, everyone wanted something from us.”
He placed the photograph back.
“Money.”
“Access.”
“Information.”
Naomi listened.
“Vivian was one of the few people who did not ask for anything immediately.”
“Immediately?”
Luca gave a small nod.
“That should have been my warning.”
The honesty in his voice unsettled Naomi.
Powerful people rarely admitted mistakes.
They usually renamed them.
They called them miscalculations.
Unfortunate circumstances.
Unexpected outcomes.
Luca simply called it a warning he ignored.
A few minutes later, the house manager entered carrying a folder.
Her name was Clara.
Naomi had worked beside her for years.
She was kind but cautious, the type of person who remembered everyone’s birthday while pretending she did not.
“Mr. Moretti.”
Luca took the folder.
“What is this?”
Clara looked nervous.
“Records.”
“What records?”
“Mrs. Moretti’s appointments.”
Luca opened the folder.
Naomi saw his eyes move across the pages.
Then stop.
“What am I looking at?”
Clara swallowed.
“There were several meetings scheduled over the past two months.”
“With my mother?”
“Yes.”
“Who approved them?”
Clara looked down.
“Ms. Vivian said you had authorized them.”
The room became quiet.
Luca closed the folder slowly.
“I did not.”
Clara nodded.
“I thought perhaps you had arranged them privately.”
Naomi watched the exchange.
The problem was becoming clearer.
Vivian had not forced her way into the house.
She had been allowed inside.
She had used trust as the door.
“What meetings?” Luca asked.
Clara hesitated.
“Financial discussions.”
“About what?”
“Your mother’s estate.”
The word changed the atmosphere.
Estate.
A simple word.
A dangerous one.
Naomi looked at Isabella.
The elderly woman’s face had gone pale.
Luca noticed.
“What is it?”
May you like
Isabella’s hand moved.
Three taps.
