Chapter 14
The anniversary of Luca’s death arrived quietly.
For thirteen years, the family had sent flowers to Tamsin and said very little else.
This year Orson did something different.
He asked Celeste whether a photograph of Luca existed that did not come from the funeral.
She brought dozens.
Luca at the beach.
Luca missing his front teeth.
Luca wearing an oversized Yankees cap.
Luca asleep against Tamsin’s shoulder.
Orson chose none of them for public display.
He was tired of turning private pain into family symbolism.
Instead, with Tamsin’s permission through her therapist, the Bellori family made a donation in Luca’s name to the pediatric respiratory clinic that had treated him.
No plaque.
No press release.
No Bellori logo.
The clinic could use it however it saw fit.
Tamsin sent one message back through counsel.
Thank you for using his name for something other than what I did wrong.
Orson read it twice.
He did not answer.
Not yet.
Mara was thriving.
Her doctors adjusted her care as she grew.
The inhaler pouch remained part of her routine, but she stopped checking for it every few minutes.
That mattered to Orson more than any legal outcome.
She trusted that adults would not take it away.
The Bellori estate remained mostly empty.
Orson moved business meetings elsewhere and prohibited family operations from entering Mara’s home.
He had not become innocent.
He had become more deliberate about what his daughter would inherit from him.
One evening Mara found an old photograph among Celeste’s things.
A little boy smiled from a playground.
“Who?”
Orson sat beside her.
“His name was Luca.”
“Family?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
Orson looked at the photograph.
“He died a long time ago.”
Mara became quiet.
Then asked:
“Tamsin’s boy?”
Orson looked at her.
Someone had told her more than he realized.
“Yes.”
Mara studied the picture for several seconds.
Then put it carefully back.
May you like
She did not ask about Tamsin.
Not that night.
