PART 7 — THE BASEMENT UNDER THE ROSE HOUSE
Catherine Moretti had always known how to enter a room.
She did not rush.
She did not apologize.
She did not look cornered, even with federal agents turning toward her and an entire courtroom frozen in horror.
She simply walked down the aisle in her cream suit, her pearl necklace glowing softly beneath the courthouse lights, and stopped beside Victor Romano’s attorney.
“My nephew has always had a flair for tragedy,” Catherine said calmly.
Lucas looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.
He remembered her hand on his shoulder at Isabella’s funeral.
Poor boy, she had whispered. Grief makes animals of us all.
He remembered her arranging the closed caskets.
He remembered her telling him Daniel’s remains could not be viewed.
He remembered her paying the funeral director in cash.
His stomach turned.
Judge Hayes struck her gavel once.
“Mrs. Moretti, you will not address this court unless called.”
Catherine smiled politely.
“Of course, Your Honor.”
Claire Donovan moved fast.
Two agents approached Catherine.
But before they reached her, Victor’s attorney lifted a document.
“My client has granted full authorization for Mrs. Catherine Moretti to speak on matters involving family trust protections and the minor child.”
Lucas let out a low, humorless breath.
Of course.
Victor had not acted alone.
He had served someone.
And Catherine had waited until the perfect moment to step out of the shadows.
The judge reviewed the filing, her expression darkening.
Catherine turned her attention to Daniel.
The boy shrank back.
“My dear,” she said softly. “You were always such a sensitive child.”
Daniel hid behind Anna’s chair.
Lucas stepped between them.
“Do not speak to him.”
Catherine’s eyes lifted to Lucas.
There was no warmth in them.
“You still mistake possession for protection.”
The words were quiet.
But Lucas heard the old family poison inside them.
Judge Hayes ordered a recess.
Daniel was taken into a private room with Lily, Anna, and a court psychologist. Lucas was not allowed inside. He stood in the hallway, staring through a small rectangular window as Lily sat beside Daniel and placed the wooden dragon between them.
Catherine approached from behind.
“Touching, isn’t it?” she said.
Lucas did not turn.
“Was Isabella alive when you took my son?”
Catherine sighed.
“You always ask the wrong question.”
Lucas turned then.
For a second, the hallway seemed to narrow around them.
Catherine smiled up at him.
“Your father understood legacy. Your grandfather understood sacrifice. But you were going to throw away a century of power because a piano teacher taught you shame.”
Lucas’s voice was cold.
“You killed her.”
Catherine’s smile faded.
“I corrected a mistake.”
Lucas stepped closer, but Marco’s hand appeared lightly at his arm.
Not stopping him.
Reminding him.
Daniel was watching through the window.
Lucas forced himself still.
Catherine noticed.
“How domestic,” she murmured. “A maid, a sick child, a stolen son, and you playing hero. Isabella would have loved the performance.”
Lucas leaned closer.
“If you say her name again—”
“You’ll what?” Catherine whispered. “Become what they already think you are?”
That stopped him.
She knew exactly where to cut.
Catherine opened her purse and removed a folded petition.
“I am filing for emergency custody.”
Lucas stared at her.
“You?”
“I am Daniel’s blood relative. I have no criminal convictions. Unlike you, I have spent decades funding hospitals, schools, and family courts.”
“While hiding a kidnapped child in a basement.”
Her eyes hardened.
“A protected child.”
Daniel’s voice rose from inside the private room.
“No!”
Everyone turned.
Through the window, Daniel had backed into a corner. The psychologist was kneeling near him, speaking softly.
Catherine looked almost annoyed.
“He was always dramatic.”
Lucas’s control nearly snapped.
Claire appeared at the end of the hall.
“We found the house,” she said.
Catherine’s face changed.
For the first time, the mask cracked.
Claire looked at Lucas.
“Rose House. Staten Island. Blue curtains. Red door. Registered to a trust Catherine controls.”
Lucas turned back to his aunt.
Catherine said nothing.
Federal agents searched Rose House that evening.
Lucas was not allowed inside until they cleared it.
When he finally stepped through the red door, the smell hit him first.
Bleach.
Old wood.
Closed air.
The living room was staged like an elderly woman’s cottage: floral chairs, religious paintings, lace curtains.
Blue curtains.
Daniel stood outside with Anna, Lily, and Claire. The court psychologist advised against bringing him in, but Daniel had insisted on seeing one room.
The basement.
Lucas descended first.
Each step felt like sinking into the years stolen from him.
At the bottom was a narrow room with a small bed, a locked cabinet, children’s books, and a wall covered in faded drawings.
Dragons.
Pianos.
A woman with curly hair.
A tall man with no face.
Lucas touched the drawing with shaking fingers.
Daniel entered behind him.
He stared at the wall.
Then he walked to the corner, knelt, and pulled at a loose floorboard.
Anna gasped.
Underneath was a bundle wrapped in cloth.
Daniel lifted it carefully.
Inside was a small cassette recorder and a folded piece of sheet music.
Isabella’s handwriting covered the page.
Lucas opened it.
At the top, she had written:
For Daniel, when Papa finds you.
Daniel pressed play on the recorder.
Static filled the basement.
Then Isabella’s voice came through, weak but clear.
“My love, if you are hearing this, it means the song survived.”
Lucas covered his mouth.
Daniel began to cry.
Isabella continued.
“Daniel, your father did not leave you. He would tear the world apart to find you if he knew where to look.”
Catherine’s voice suddenly echoed from the stairs.
“How sentimental.”
Everyone turned.
She stood at the top with an officer beside her, smiling faintly.
“You may have found the basement,” she said. “But you still cannot prove I put him there.”
Daniel stood slowly.
His tears were gone.
He looked up at her.
“You forgot the wall.”
Catherine’s smile faltered.
Daniel pointed behind Lucas.
There, scratched into the paint behind the bed, were words written by a child over and over again.
Aunt Catherine said Papa is dead. Aunt Catherine said my name is Noah. Aunt Catherine said if I tell, Lily’s mommy dies too.
Anna’s face went white.
May you like
Lucas turned toward Catherine.
But Catherine was no longer smiling.
