Chapter 4 - Meeting Luca Moretti
At noon, I returned to the hospital.
I told myself it was because I was scheduled for an afternoon shift.
That was mostly true.
Before changing into scrubs, I stopped at the ICU desk.
Elena looked up.
“You’re checking on a patient who isn’t yours.”
“I’m a caring physician.”
“You’re terrible at lying.”
“How is he?”
“Stable.”
“Any complications?”
“No.”
“Any visitors?”
Elena glanced down the corridor.
“Several.”
I followed her gaze.
Two men in suits stood near the waiting area.
One was young, probably early thirties.
The other looked closer to Dante’s age.
“Family?”
“The older one says he’s Dante’s brother.”
I knew the name immediately.
Luca Moretti.
I had seen photographs.
He looked different in person.
Less severe.
Dark hair, olive skin, tired eyes.
When he noticed me, he stood.
“Dr. Callahan?”
I hesitated.
“Yes.”
He approached.
“I’m Luca.”
“I know.”
Something like embarrassment crossed his face.
“Of course.”
He extended his hand.
I shook it.
“Thank you for saving my brother.”
“My team—”
“So Dante said.”
I studied him.
“I’m beginning to think your family rehearses answers.”
Luca smiled slightly.
“We’ve been accused of worse.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond.
He looked toward Dante’s room.
“He told me you were here.”
“That must have been surprising.”
“Not as surprising as learning he knew you.”
My attention sharpened.
“He never told you?”
“Not your name.”
“That sounds like him.”
Luca nodded slowly.
“He was different six years ago.”
“So was I.”
“He made mistakes.”
“So did I.”
Luca looked surprised.
I folded my arms.
“Mine just weren’t disappearing mistakes.”
A faint smile touched his face.
“Fair.”
He seemed nervous.
That surprised me.
Everything I had read about the Moretti family painted them as controlled, polished, formidable.
Luca looked like a worried younger brother who had not slept.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
“That depends.”
“When you knew Dante… was he happy?”
The question disarmed me.
“Yes.”
Luca looked away.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Why?”
“Because when he came home after my father died, he wasn’t.”
“You knew something happened.”
“I knew he’d left someone behind.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“He told you?”
“Eventually.”
“What?”
“That there had been someone.”
I waited.
“He wouldn’t say who.”
“Why?”
Luca gave me an apologetic look.
“You’re asking me to explain Dante’s communication habits.”
“Good point.”
He laughed quietly.
Then he lowered his voice.
“Our father raised us to believe personal attachments were vulnerabilities.”
I stiffened.
Luca noticed.
“I don’t mean that dramatically.”
“Then how do you mean it?”
“He believed people in leadership had obligations. Family first. Business second. Everything else somewhere after that.”
“And Dante believed him.”
“For a long time.”
“What changed?”
Luca looked toward the ICU door.
“I think you did.”
I didn’t know what to say.
Before I could respond, a man approached us.
“Mr. Moretti?”
Luca turned.
The man wore a visitor badge and carried a leather folder.
“Detective Warren,” he said. “Seattle Police.”
Luca’s expression became guarded but polite.
“Detective.”
“I’d like to speak with your brother when his physician clears it.”
“You’ll need to speak with Dr. Lin.”
“I will.”
Detective Warren glanced at me.
“Doctor.”
I nodded.
Then walked toward the staff corridor.
I was almost through the door when Luca called after me.
“Claire.”
I turned.
He looked uncertain.
“There’s something I think Dante should tell you himself.”
My pulse changed.
“What?”
Luca shook his head.
“It’s not my story.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It isn’t.”
“Then why mention it?”
“Because if he loses his nerve, I want you to know there’s more.”
I stared at him.
“More about what?”
May you like
His answer was quiet.
“About why he kept coming back.”
