Matteo believed Antonio had discovered wrongdoing but had lacked the courage to expose it.
Neither wanted to admit the possibility that their father had made serious mistakes.
I listened until I couldn’t bear another minute.
“Both of you need to stop.”
They turned.
“My husband died without knowing whether anyone would help his daughter. Your mother is lying in a hospital because she tried to protect children. And you’re arguing about who loved your father more.”
Neither spoke.
I pointed toward the classroom.
“There are real children out there. They don’t care which brother wins.”
Matteo looked down.
Luca rubbed a hand over his face.
Then he said quietly, “You’re right.”
For the first time in fifteen years, the brothers sat beside each other without fighting.
Before we left, Matteo handed me a small brown parcel.
“David asked me to keep this.”
My hands trembled.
Inside was a silver pocket watch.
Its face was scratched.
The chain was broken.
David had carried it every day.
He’d inherited it from his grandfather.
I pressed it against my chest.
“I thought it was lost in the accident.”
“David gave it to me the week before.”
“Why?”
Matteo hesitated.
“He said if anything happened before he could finish sorting out the records, I should give it to you when Lily was old enough to understand.”
I opened the watch.
Inside the cover was a tiny photograph of me holding newborn Lily.
Beneath it, David had engraved three words.
MY GIRLS. ALWAYS.
I started crying.
Matteo waited.
Then he turned the watch over.
“There is something else.”
On the back was a faint set of numbers.
Not a date.
Not an address.
A bank reference.
Luca examined it.
His expression changed.
“That’s the identification number for Dad’s private foundation account.”
Matteo nodded.
“David believed the account was being used to move scholarship money.”
I stared at my husband’s watch.
Then Matteo said the sentence that would haunt me for days.
“Sarah, David didn’t leave you that watch because he thought he was going to die.”
He swallowed.
“He left it because he thought someone inside the Moretti family would eventually need the evidence hidden in it.”
“The watch doesn’t prove who stole the money,” Luca said. “But it proves David knew where to look.”
We sat in Matteo’s office while afternoon sunlight moved across the floor.
My husband’s pocket watch lay between us.
For years, I’d believed David’s final days had been ordinary.
He’d kissed Lily’s forehead.
Promised to repair our kitchen drawer.
Left for work carrying a thermos of coffee.
Then never come home.
Now I was learning he’d been worried about something he hadn’t shared with me.
I didn’t know whether to feel proud of him or angry.
Maybe both.
Matteo opened the back of the watch with a small tool.
A thin paper disc had been tucked beneath the photograph.
On it were six handwritten numbers.
Luca compared them with the account records.
“It’s a transaction identifier.”
Matteo nodded.
“David wanted us to find one specific transfer.”
“Why this one?”
“Because it was the first payment he couldn’t reconcile.”
Luca called Daniel.
Within an hour, the independent accountants began tracing the number.
I watched the brothers work side by side.
They still didn’t trust each other completely.
But there was something familiar in the way they leaned over the documents.
The same furrowed brow.
The same habit of tapping a finger when thinking.
For the first time, they looked like family.
At 4:30 p.m., Daniel returned with the initial findings.
“The transfer was for $640,000,” he said.
I stared.
Six hundred and forty thousand dollars.
More money than I’d earn in a decade.
“Where did it go?” Luca asked.
“From the foundation reserve into an entity called Bellini Community Development.”
Matteo exhaled.
“Richard.”
Daniel shook his head.
“That’s what we thought. But the authorization was entered under another name.”
He placed a printed page on the desk.
Luca read it.
Then went completely still.
AUTHORIZED BY: ANTONIO MORETTI.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Luca looked at Matteo.
“My father authorized it.”
Matteo examined the date.
“Eight years ago.”
“Before he died.”
“Yes.”
Luca stood abruptly.
“Then Dad knew.”
Matteo shook his head.
“Not necessarily.”
“His name is right there.”
“Names on financial records can be used without permission.”
Luca turned sharply.
“Are you defending him now?”
“I’m asking you not to make the same mistake he made with me.”
That stopped Luca.
He lowered himself back into the chair.
Daniel pointed toward a second line.
“The transaction was entered manually, then approved through a separate banking credential.”
“Whose?” Luca asked.
Daniel hesitated.
“Yours.”
Luca stared.
“That’s impossible.”
“The credential belonged to your executive office.”
“I never approved this.”
Matteo looked at him.
“Are you certain?”
Luca’s face hardened.
“Yes.”
