Chapter 4 - Noah’s Last Call
Vincent arrived in Maine before sunrise.
I knew he was there when four black vehicles filled the cottage driveway and men spread through the trees.
I stood beside the broken window watching them.
Finn had covered the opening with plywood.
Blood stained his shirt where glass had cut his shoulder.
Then Vincent stepped out of the second SUV.
His eyes went straight to me.
He crossed the yard.
I opened the door before he reached it.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
“You were attacked.”
“I noticed.”
“You should have had security.”
“I had Finn.”
“That is one man.”
“He saved me.”
Vincent looked at him.
“Thank you.”
Finn blinked.
Vincent rarely thanked anyone.
Then Vincent saw the wooden box on the table.
One corner was chipped.
His face changed.
“What happened?”
I looked toward Noah’s ashes.
“They shot through the window.”
Vincent understood.
His eyes went cold.
Not angry.
Cold.
The expression terrified people more than rage.
“Who?”
“If I knew, do you think I’d be standing here?”
He turned toward Finn.
“Tell me everything.”
Finn did.
The footage.
The ring.
The groundskeeper’s original statement.
His death.
The threat.
Vincent listened without interruption.
When Finn finished, Vincent walked to the kitchen table.
He placed both hands on it.
“Who had access to Sofia’s gate code?”
Finn answered.
“Sofia. Evelyn. You. Me. Security command.”
“And remote override?”
“Same.”
“Who deleted the footage?”
“We traced the login.”
Finn hesitated.
Vincent looked up.
“Say it.”
“Your father’s old credentials.”
The room went still.
Salvatore Moretti had been dead five years.
Vincent straightened.
“That account was disabled.”
“Apparently not.”
“Who maintained it?”
Finn did not need to answer.
Evelyn.
Vincent closed his eyes.
My stomach turned.
“You think your mother did this.”
“No.”
He opened his eyes.
“I think someone used access she controlled.”
“Same difference.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Not until I know.”
There it was again.
Uncertainty.
I almost respected it.
Then pain exploded through my head.
I grabbed the counter.
Vincent moved.
I held up one hand.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
Finn looked worried.
“You need a hospital.”
“No.”
Vincent said, “Boston.”
I laughed weakly.
“Good morning to you too.”
“The surgeon agreed to review your case.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“I did.”
“I’m shocked.”
“Elena.”
I looked at him.
“My son was lured out of our home by someone pretending you sent him.”
My voice shook.
“I’m not lying in a hospital until I know why.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“And if you die before we know?”
“Then solve it without me.”
His face hardened.
“No.”
The answer sounded different now.
Not ownership.
Fear.
I almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
Finn interrupted.
“There’s something else.”
He placed another file on the table.
“We recovered cloud backup from Noah’s tablet.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
Vincent stared.
“Noah had cloud backup?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t we check?”
“The device was damaged when he fell. Local data was corrupted.”
Finn opened a laptop.
“Cloud credentials were under Elena’s family account.”
I sat.
Finn clicked.
Photos appeared.
Noah grinning.
Noah building a Lego ship.
Noah filming our dog asleep.
I covered my mouth.
Vincent sat beside me.
Neither of us spoke.
Finn opened the call history.
One outgoing video call to Sofia.
Twenty-one minutes.
The morning Noah left.
Another call.
Outgoing.
Vincent’s private number.
11:30 a.m.
Eight minutes before Noah appeared on camera walking toward the gate.
“No,” Vincent whispered.
The call lasted forty-three seconds.
Vincent had never received it.
Because his phone was with Sofia.
Finn opened a recovered audio cache.
The recording began mid-call.
Noah’s voice.
Small.
Excited.
“Daddy?”
Then Sofia.
Not Vincent.
“Noah, I told you your dad is sleeping.”
“But I made him a picture.”
“You can show him later.”
“When is he coming?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said maybe today.”
Sofia sighed.
“I said if you really wanted to surprise him, go to the airfield. But obviously not right now.”
“I can go.”
“Noah—”
A pause.
Then another voice entered.
Male.
Distant.
“Who are you talking to?”
Sofia replied, “Noah.”
The man laughed.
Then spoke louder.
“Tell the little prince his father sent someone to meet him.”
My blood froze.
Vincent’s face changed completely.
Finn paused the recording.
“Who is that?”
Vincent did not answer.
I looked at him.
“You know.”
His hands had curled into fists.
“Vincent.”
He stood.
“That voice belongs to Luca Santoro.”
Finn went still.
I knew the name.
Everyone did.
Luca had been Vincent’s cousin.
His father was Evelyn’s younger brother.
For twelve years, Luca ran Moretti port security.
Then three years earlier, he disappeared after being accused of skimming money from casino shipments.
Vincent had ordered him expelled from the organization.
Rumor said Luca moved to Sicily.
“Why was Luca in Iceland?” I asked.
Vincent looked at Finn.
“Find out.”
Finn left.
I stared at Vincent.
“You exiled him.”
“Yes.”
“Sofia knew him?”
“We all grew up together.”
“Were they close?”
Vincent hesitated.
Enough.
“How close?”
“They dated briefly when they were teenagers.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
Vincent frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“It means your family apparently has an endless supply of secrets involving Sofia.”
He looked toward the laptop.
I replayed the audio.
The man’s laugh.
Luca.
Tell the little prince his father sent someone to meet him.
Noah had believed him.
Because Sofia was there.
Because Vincent’s private phone carried the call.
Because my child trusted his family.
“What happened after?” I asked.
Finn had recovered another fragment.
Noah speaking to himself as he walked.
“I’m gonna surprise Daddy.”
I broke.
Not loudly.
My face simply collapsed.
Vincent reached for me.
I let him.
For five seconds.
Maybe ten.
His arms closed around me.
I cried into the shirt of the man I was divorcing.
“He thought you were coming home.”
“I know.”
“He packed your picture.”
Vincent’s body shook.
“I know.”
Then I remembered.
I stepped away.
“You weren’t.”
His eyes closed.
“No.”
“You were looking at the northern lights with Sofia.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
There are forms of guilt no punishment can improve.
I saw that inside him.
For once, hurting Vincent gave me no satisfaction.
Finn returned thirty minutes later.
His expression was grim.
“Luca was in Iceland.”
Vincent looked up.
“How?”
“Private charter from Lisbon.”
“When?”
“Arrived two days before you.”
My skin crawled.
“So Sofia planned the trip where her ex-boyfriend was staying.”
Vincent’s face hardened.
“She told me she chose Iceland because of the lights.”
Finn continued.
“Luca left Iceland six hours after Noah died.”
“Where did he go?”
“No record after a fuel stop in Greenland. Flight plan was altered.”
Vincent reached for his phone.
I said, “No.”
He looked at me.
“What?”
“You’re going to do what you always do.”
“What is that?”
“Call men. Threaten people. Start a war.”
“If Luca touched Noah—”
“I want the truth before you kill it.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You think I would kill him before he talks?”
“Yes.”
He almost argued.
Then stopped.
Fair.
I continued.
“Why would Luca want Noah outside the estate?”
“To hurt me.”
“Then why bring him back?”
Vincent froze.
Exactly.
If Luca wanted to kidnap Noah, he had forty minutes.
He could have taken him.
Instead Noah returned injured.
That suggested something had gone wrong.
Or kidnapping was not the objective.
“What if he wanted Noah to see something?” I asked.
Vincent looked at me.
“Or carry something,” Finn added.
We searched Noah’s possessions.
His backpack had been stored in evidence after his death.
Vincent ordered it flown to Maine.
Inside were the same items documented originally.
Crackers.
Juice.
Stuffed lion.
Drawing.
But Finn found stitching along the interior seam.
Recently repaired.
He cut it open.
A tiny memory card dropped onto the table.
Vincent stared.
I stopped breathing.
Someone had put it inside Noah’s backpack.
The card contained twelve encrypted files.
Finn’s team broke the password four hours later.
Shipping manifests.
Payoffs.
Photographs.
Names.
Evidence linking Luca Santoro to unauthorized weapons shipments through Moretti-controlled ports.
And one more name.
Evelyn Moretti.
I stared at the screen.
“No.”
Vincent looked equally stunned.
Payments from accounts controlled by Evelyn had gone to shell companies connected to Luca.
Millions.
Over three years.
His mother had been financing the cousin Vincent exiled.
“Why?” I whispered.
Vincent said nothing.
Finn opened the final file.
An audio recording.
Evelyn’s voice.
“Luca, you were told not to involve the child.”
Luca replied.
“I needed a courier no one searches.”
“You injured him.”
“He fell.”
“If Vincent finds out—”
“He won’t.”
“He is Elena’s son.”
“He is a Moretti heir.”
Silence.
Then Evelyn said something that turned my blood to ice.
“Return him before anyone notices.”
The recording ended.
I stared at Vincent.
His face had become unrecognizable.
Not because he was angry.
Because he was devastated.
His mother had known.
Noah had been used as a courier.
A six-year-old.
Luca had called him outside, slipped evidence into his backpack, and sent him back.
Perhaps the files were insurance.
Perhaps blackmail.
Perhaps Luca intended Vincent to discover them.
But Noah fell during the meeting.
And Evelyn helped hide what happened.
My knees weakened.
Vincent whispered, “She knew he fell.”
“Yes.”
“She knew.”
“Yes.”
“And when he complained of pain…”
My voice disappeared.
Evelyn had refused the hospital.
Not to avoid press.
To avoid doctors discovering injuries connected to something she already knew about.
Vincent stood.
“Where is my mother?”
Finn answered.
“New York.”
Vincent picked up his coat.
I caught his wrist.
He looked down.
“Do not kill her.”
His eyes turned black.
“Elena.”
“Do not.”
“She let Noah die.”
“So did you.”
The words struck.
Vincent went motionless.
I hated myself for saying them.
But they were true.
“You were not there.”
I released him.
“I was.”
He stared.
Then lowered his hand.
“What do you want?”
“The truth.”
His voice broke.
“You have it.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“We know what she did.”
May you like
I looked toward the evidence.
“We don’t know why.”
