Chapter 8 - MICHAEL'S WATCH
Three months after Elias died, Mrs. Carter found Michael Moretti’s old watch in the laundry safe.
That sentence sounds ridiculous.
It was.
The watch had been missing since the night Elias returned.
Vanessa had said Michael’s watch had nothing to do with them.
At the shed, Luca accused her of lying about it.
But no one ever found the watch.
Until Mrs. Carter discovered it inside a linen bag marked TABLE RUNNERS.
She brought it to me.
“I am retiring.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I am tired of objects containing secrets.”
Fair.
The watch was heavy.
Gold.
Stopped at 2:17.
Luca stared.
“That’s the time Dad died.”
Of course.
The back opened normally.
Nothing.
Then Gabriel looked at it.
“Bird.”
“What?”
He pointed to a tiny engraving near the crown.
A bird.
Same shape Nico carved.
We pressed it.
Hidden compartment.
Because apparently nobody in this family owned a normal object.
Inside:
A microSD card.
Luca groaned.
“No.”
Gabriel laughed.
We played it.
Michael’s final video.
Not confession.
A message recorded two days before death.
He looked sick.
“I found the boy.”
Gabriel stopped smiling.
Michael continued.
“Elias brought me a photograph.”
“I wanted to go to him.”
“I didn’t.”
Gabriel’s face tightened.
Vanessa put her hand near his, not touching.
Michael:
“I was afraid Anthony would follow.”
“Margaret says I am using fear as an excuse.”
I almost smiled.
Mom.
Correct as usual.
Then:
“She is right.”
Michael looked into camera.
“If I live through this week, I am going to tell Matteo everything.”
Luca closed his eyes.
Again.
Almost.
Truth scheduled for later.
Later did not come.
Then Michael said:
“I am going to tell Vanessa her son lives.”
She started crying.
“And I am going to tell Gabriel I am his father.”
The boy stared.
Michael smiled weakly.
“I don’t know if he will want me.”
Good.
“He should get to decide.”
Finally.
Then:
“Nico deserved the same.”
Michael’s voice broke.
“I failed him.”
The video continued.
A knock.
Michael looked off-camera.
“Anthony?”
His expression changed.
The footage ended.
Time stamp:
7:41 p.m.
Michael died at 9:03.
Anthony entered.
Vale’s doctor visited at 8:10.
Elias arrived 8:42.
Injection 8:49.
Death 9:03.
Timeline complete.
Anthony had time to switch the syringe.
More evidence.
Not needed for conviction now.
Still truth.
Then the final file on the card.
Audio from after Michael’s death.
Elias crying.
Anthony’s voice:
“You gave him the medicine.”
Elias:
“What did you do?”
Anthony:
“Nothing you can prove.”
There.
He had psychologically trapped Elias from the first minute.
Made him believe he killed Michael.
No wonder Elias ran.
Luca listened twice.
Then deleted nothing.
Copied everything to investigators.
Good.
Gabriel asked:
“Can I keep the watch?”
Luca looked at him.
“Do you want it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It’s Dad’s.”
Michael.
His father.
Not Grandpa.
Complicated.
Luca gave it to him after investigators cleared it.
Gabriel did not wear it.
He put it beside Elias’s rosary in his room.
Then he asked:
“Why did everybody hide things in jewelry?”
I said:
“Your family hates filing cabinets.”
He laughed.
Vanessa too.
Normal laughter mattered.
That evening, Luca and I sat in the kitchen.
Mrs. Carter had gone home.
Gabriel upstairs.
Vanessa left after her visit.
Quiet.
He asked:
“Do you ever think about leaving?”
“The job?”
“The estate.”
“Yes.”
His face changed.
“I mean, I live in Chicago.”
“You know what I mean.”
I did.
The estate had become a center of gravity.
Secrets.
Family.
My mother’s connection.
Gabriel.
Luca.
It would be easy to let my whole life become Moretti.
Dangerous.
“I’m getting my own apartment.”
He blinked.
“You have one.”
“New one.”
“Why?”
“Closer to work. Not family housing.”
He nodded slowly.
“Good.”
I smiled.
“You look disappointed.”
“I am.”
“Still good?”
“Yes.”
Better.
He was learning that caring did not mean keeping close.
Then he asked:
“Dinner?”
“We just ate.”
He looked annoyed.
“Not that.”
I stared.
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“Yes.”
“Your former fiancée threatened my job.”
“Yes.”
“Your father knew my mother.”
“Yes.”
“Your nephew calls me when he has nightmares.”
“Yes.”
“You are my employer-adjacent board problem.”
He laughed.
“Accurate.”
I thought.
Then:
“No.”
His face fell.
“Okay.”
I waited.
He did not push.
Good.
“Ask me again in six months.”
His eyes changed.
“That is not no.”
“It is no for now.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
That word again.
Six months gave us time to see who we were without a crisis.
That mattered more than chemistry.
More than gratitude.
May you like
More than fear.
Maybe then, if he still wanted dinner and I still wanted to say yes, it would belong to us.
