Chapter 6 - THE SON ELEANOR COULD NOT SHARE
Grant did not speak to his mother for two days.
He stayed in the guest wing.
Alessia left Hale Manor with Noah and went to Vittorio’s estate.
Grant did not try to stop her.
That was the first useful decision he made.
Vittorio expected his daughter to collapse once she was home.
She did not.
She slept.
Fed Noah.
Walked slowly through the garden.
Cried once in the shower where nobody could see her.
Then she asked her father a question.
“How much did you know?”
Vittorio did not pretend not to understand.
“About the fire?”
“About all of it.”
He looked toward the garden.
“Not enough.”
Alessia waited.
That answer irritated her.
“How much?”
So Vittorio told her.
He knew Sofia saved Grant.
He knew Eleanor ran out carrying jewelry.
He knew Charles blamed Sofia falsely for the fire.
He knew Sofia asked him not to start a war over it.
He did not know Charles had planned to threaten him.
He did not know Sofia returned secretly to comfort Grant.
He did not know how deeply Eleanor rewrote the story for her son.
Alessia looked at him.
“You still let me marry Grant.”
“Yes.”
“Without telling me any of this.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Vittorio’s answer came slowly.
“Because I believed he was not his mother.”
Alessia laughed once.
Painfully.
“You believed.”
“I did.”
“And you thought that was enough?”
“No.”
Not anymore.
Vittorio had watched Grant for years.
The young man seemed disciplined.
Respectful toward Alessia.
Protective while they dated.
He rarely spoke about Sofia.
Vittorio interpreted that as maturity.
In reality, Grant had simply learned not to say what Eleanor taught him in front of a Moretti.
Alessia looked toward Noah sleeping beneath a blanket.
“You protected my chance at being happy by hiding the thing that could have told me who I was marrying.”
Vittorio accepted it.
“Yes.”
The answer hurt her more because he did not fight it.
Then Alessia asked:
“What happens now?”
“That’s your decision.”
She looked surprised.
Vittorio almost smiled.
“I’m learning.”
Meanwhile, Grant returned to the old nursery alone.
The photographs remained on the cabinet.
The burned music box remained beside the wardrobe.
He picked it up.
The lullaby played weakly.
Something rattled inside.
Grant turned the box over.
One corner panel was loose.
He opened it.
Inside sat a tiny folded scrap of fabric and an old miniature cassette.
Grant stared.
He found an equally old player in the study after searching for nearly an hour.
The voice that emerged belonged to Sofia.
Young.
Laughing.
“Ruth says recording things is ridiculous, so obviously I’m doing it.”
Grant sat down.
Sofia spoke to no one specific at first.
She talked about leaving Hale Manor.
About being frightened of what Vittorio’s world would demand.
About baby Grant.
Then her voice changed.
“If Grant ever hears this when he’s older, I hope Eleanor finally told him the truth.”
Grant stopped breathing.
Sofia continued.
“Your mother loves you.”
He closed his eyes.
“She just doesn’t know love and fear are different things.”
Eleanor stood in the doorway.
Grant had not heard her enter.
Sofia’s recording continued.
“She thinks if you love someone else, you love her less. I wish I knew how to tell her children don’t divide love like inheritance.”
Eleanor covered her mouth.
Grant did not stop the tape.
Sofia said:
“One day I’ll have children of my own.”
A small laugh.
“I hope they meet you.”
Grant’s eyes filled.
“And if our families are still being stupid by then, maybe you children will do better.”
The recording clicked.
Grant stared at the machine.
Alessia had married him.
Sofia’s daughter.
The children had met.
They had not done better.
He had taken the daughter of the woman who saved his life and made her feel like a servant twelve days after giving birth.
Eleanor whispered:
“I didn’t know that was there.”
Grant looked at his mother.
“Would it have changed anything?”
She could not answer.
Grant stood.
“Mom.”
Eleanor looked up.
“You need to leave my house.”
Her face emptied.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“This is my family home.”
“No.”
Grant looked toward the old nursery.
“This is the house where you taught me a lie.”
Eleanor’s eyes hardened.
“I raised you.”
“Yes.”
“And Sofia was a servant.”
Grant’s face changed.
The old insult.
The old shield.
This time it did not work.
He walked to the door and opened it.
Eleanor remained seated.
Then she whispered:
“If you send me away, you lose the only person who knows what Vittorio did after the fire.”
Grant froze.
May you like
Eleanor looked toward him.
“You think Sofia kept secrets only from the Morettis?”
