“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was unfair.”
I stood still.
Nobody had ever apologized to me that quickly.
Not without adding a reason I was partly responsible.
I looked back.
“Don’t do it again.”
“I won’t.”
***
At midnight, I received an email.
No sender name.
No subject.
Just one photograph.
My mother standing beside a hospital bed.
A young man lay unconscious beneath white sheets.
He had dark hair and a familiar face.
Dante’s face.
Except younger.
Softer.
I knew before I read the caption.
Adrian Valenti.
Beneath the photograph were six words.
SHE DIDN’T SAVE HIM. SHE HID HIM.
I stared at the screen.
Then ran downstairs.
Dante was in his study.
He looked up when I entered.
“Nora?”
I turned the laptop toward him.
His expression changed.
For the first time, I saw genuine fear in Dante Valenti’s eyes.
Then he reached toward the screen.
His tattooed finger stopped just short of Adrian’s face.
“Where did you get this?”
“An anonymous email.”
“When?”
“Ten minutes ago.”
He closed his eyes.
“Gabriel.”
The security chief appeared almost immediately.
Dante turned the laptop toward him.
Gabriel’s expression went pale.
“Jesus Christ.”
“Find out when it was taken,” Dante said.
Gabriel nodded.
Then stopped.
“Boss, there’s something you should know.”
Dante looked at him.
Gabriel hesitated.
“The lake identification was never conclusive.”
Silence.
I frowned.
“What lake?”
Dante’s expression hardened.
“Six years ago, police recovered a body from Lake Michigan. Adrian’s watch was found with it.”
I stared.
“You told me he disappeared.”
“Because I never believed the body was his.”
Gabriel looked away.
Dante turned sharply.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Gabriel swallowed.
“The medical examiner raised concerns about the identification. Your father’s former attorney convinced the family to close the matter.”
Dante stared at him.
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I thought I was protecting you.”
Dante laughed once.
A terrible sound.
“Everyone keeps protecting me with lies.”
I felt those words more deeply than I expected.
***
The next morning, Dante left for Chicago.
I stayed at the estate with Lucia and Sofia.
Not because he ordered me to.
Because Detective Mercer had arranged to meet me again.
And because I needed time to understand what I was becoming involved in.
At breakfast, Lucia placed a plate of pancakes before me.
“Eat.”
I smiled faintly.
“Does everyone in this house think food solves everything?”
“No,” she said. “But hunger makes every problem worse.”
I couldn’t argue.
Sofia joined us carrying a newspaper.
“Good news.”
I looked up.
“Please tell me it’s actually good.”
“Senator Hale’s office has withdrawn Cameron’s missing-person appeal.”
I froze.
“Why?”
“Because your attorney sent confirmation that you’re an adult, you’re safe, and you don’t want contact.”
I stared at her.
“My attorney?”
Sofia smiled.
“The one I helped you find yesterday.”
I remembered the consultation.
The forms.
The strange relief of signing my own name without Cameron standing over my shoulder.
For the first time, I realized I was beginning to build something.
Not merely an escape.
A life.
***
That afternoon, Detective Mercer called.
“We found your mother’s original death certificate.”
My heart jumped.
“And?”
“It’s fraudulent.”
I sat down.
“What?”
“The hospital listed on the certificate had no record of her admission. The physician’s signature belongs to a doctor who retired years earlier.”
I pressed a hand against my mouth.
“So she’s alive.”
“The certificate doesn’t establish that she died. Combined with the recent photographs, there’s strong reason to believe she survived.”
I closed my eyes.
Seven years.
Seven years of birthdays without her.
Christmas mornings.
Lonely nights.
The day I graduated.
The day Cameron first hurt me.
She had been alive.
Somewhere.
Why hadn’t she come?
***
Dante returned after sunset.
He looked exhausted.
His black shirt was open at the collar, revealing the dark tattoos climbing his throat.
I found him in the library.
He stood before a photograph of himself and Adrian as boys.
“Did you find anything?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Adrian was investigating Northbridge before he disappeared.”
“Why?”
“Because our father donated money to the foundation. Adrian discovered the funds weren’t reaching the people they were intended to help.”
I looked at him.
“Victor Sloane?”
“Ran the financial operation.”
“And Cameron?”
“Worked for him.”
I sat down.
Dante continued.
“Adrian believed someone inside our organization was protecting Sloane.”
I looked up.
“Who?”
Dante’s expression darkened.
“I don’t know.”
For a moment, I thought about all the people surrounding him.
Matteo.
Gabriel.
Isabella.
Lucia.
People who seemed devoted to him.
People who might have reasons to lie.
“Do you trust Gabriel?” I asked.
Dante was quiet.
“With my life.”
“Even after what he hid?”
He looked toward the window.
“That’s what I’m trying to decide.”
***
Later that night, I found Dante on the balcony.
Rain moved across the gardens.
He stood beneath the covered terrace, holding a glass of whiskey.
“You’re going to catch cold,” I said.
He glanced at me.
“That’s not how colds work.”
“You’re ruining my dramatic entrance.”
His mouth twitched.
I stepped beside him.
For a while, we watched the rain.
Then I whispered, “I’m angry with my mother.”
Dante looked at me.
“I know.”
“I spent seven years missing her.”
He said nothing.
“I don’t know what explanation could possibly make that okay.”
“Maybe none.”
I looked up.
His expression was gentle.
“Finding her won’t erase what happened.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“Then why do I still want to?”
“Because she’s your mother.”
I closed my eyes.
A tear slipped down my cheek.
