Chapter 9 - A Little Girl's Voice
The hearing was held on a gray Tuesday morning.
Outside the courthouse, photographers shouted Luca's name as though the worst day of a child's life were a movie premiere. He kept Isabella out of their path. Her participation had been arranged privately through the court's approved process.
I wore the navy dress Mom had bought me when I interviewed for the Moretti job. My hands shook inside my coat pockets.
"You don't have to be brave every second," Luca told me.
"Neither do you."
Rachel met us inside with a stack of labeled exhibits. She reminded us that the hearing would address emergency requests, not settle every accusation or criminal investigation.
That distinction mattered.
Vanessa entered with her father and an attorney. She wore cream, like a grieving woman attending the funeral of her own reputation. She glanced at me, and her eyes hardened.
Eleanor Voss sat beside her. I recognized Sofia's features in the woman's face, though her expression was unfamiliar.
I wondered whether she had once loved her sister. Whether grief had curdled into entitlement. Or whether money had always mattered more.
The court reviewed the school access records, written statements, and financial conflicts. Rachel presented evidence that questioned the urgency and motive behind the petition. Counsel for Eleanor argued that Luca's public reputation created legitimate concern.
The judge asked for specific evidence relating to Isabella's actual care and safety.
I watched Eleanor's attorney struggle to provide it.
Then it was my turn.
I described the dinner as accurately as I could. I spoke about Vanessa's instructions, Isabella's fear, and the words she'd signed when she thought her father no longer wanted her. I did not embellish. I did not speculate about anyone's secret intentions.
When I finished, Vanessa's attorney asked whether I had developed personal feelings for Luca Moretti.
My cheeks burned.
"I care about the family," I answered.
"That's not what I asked."
Rachel rose to object to the question's relevance. The judge directed counsel toward the child's welfare and the witness's reliability.
I looked at Luca. He wasn't embarrassed by me. He was watching as though the fact I had returned to tell the truth mattered more than any rumor.
At midday, the court reviewed an independent professional's assessment, which included an appropriately supported account of Isabella's preferences and experiences. The child's communication had been facilitated by a qualified interpreter and a specialist familiar with deaf children's development.
The judge read silently for several minutes.
Then she looked toward the attorneys.
"The evidence before me does not support removing this child from her father's home on an emergency basis."
I closed my eyes.
Luca's hand found mine beneath the table.
The judge also ordered additional safeguards and review of the trust administration. The wider legal issues remained open.
Outside, the photographers were still waiting.
But this time, we left by a private exit.
At home, Isabella was making paper stars with Mrs. Carter.
Luca knelt beside her.
You're staying home, he signed.
She searched his face. Really?
Really.
She threw her arms around him.
I turned away to give them privacy.
Then Isabella tapped my shoulder.
We won?
I signed, We took an important step. There may be more hard days, but today you're safe here.
She smiled.
Then can we have pizza?
Luca laughed with a relief so raw it almost hurt to hear.
"Anything you want, Peanut."
For one beautiful evening, we thought the worst was over.
Then the forensic accountant called.
May you like
The trust wasn't the only money Nico had stolen.
He had also been using Luca's companies to fund New Horizons for years.
