Chapter 4 - The Woman Who Had Been Given Someone Else's Name
I had spent seven months unknowingly sharing my husband with Valentina Russo.
Now I was beginning to suspect that Valentina herself had been living inside a lie.
Rebecca printed the archived photograph.
I studied it until my eyes hurt.
The little girl was unmistakably Valentina.
Same dark eyes.
Same narrow chin.
Same small beauty mark beneath her left eyebrow.
But the woman holding her hand wasn't anyone I'd ever seen at a Russo family gathering.
"Maybe Catherine Vale was her aunt," Rebecca suggested.
"Then why does the article call her daughter?"
"Could be an error."
"Or someone changed her identity."
Rebecca didn't answer.
We needed facts.
Thomas Reed arranged for a researcher to examine the old court filings surrounding Catherine Vale's disappearance.
Meanwhile, I did something I never imagined I would do.
I called my husband's mistress.
Valentina answered after several rings.
"Sofia?"
She sounded frightened.
"Don't hang up."
"I wasn't going to."
"I need to ask you something."
A pause.
"Okay."
"Who is Catherine Vale?"
Silence.
Then I heard something fall.
"Where did you hear that name?"
"Answer me."
Valentina's breathing became uneven.
"She was my mother."
My stomach tightened.
"Was?"
"She died when I was little."
"How?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean, you don't know?"
"My father told me she became ill. I don't remember much."
I closed my eyes.
"Valentina, was Victor Russo your biological father?"
Another silence.
Then she whispered, "Why are you asking me this?"
"Because I found a photograph of you with Catherine. And because your mother disappeared after filing a complaint against a company connected to my father's death."
Valentina began crying.
"I didn't know about your father."
I wanted to hate her.
Part of me still did.
But there was something unmistakably genuine in her fear.
"Did Alessandro know who your mother was?"
"Yes."
The answer hurt.
Of course he knew.
"Did he tell you anything about her?"
"He said he was trying to help me find out what happened."
I gripped the phone.
"Is that why you started seeing him?"
"No."
"Then why?"
She hesitated.
"Because I was stupid enough to believe he loved me."
The words stung.
I looked away.
"He told me his marriage was over," she continued. "He said you lived separate lives."
I laughed bitterly.
"Did he tell you that before or after you had dinner with me?"
She began crying harder.
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't change what you did."
"I know."
"Then tell me everything."
Valentina explained that she had begun asking questions about Catherine six months before the affair started.
She had found an old photograph hidden in Victor Russo's safe.
When she confronted him, he became furious.
He told her to stop digging.
A few weeks later, Alessandro approached her at a charity event.
He claimed to know people who could help.
Their conversations became private.
Then personal.
Then intimate.
"I thought he understood," she whispered.
"Understood what?"
"What it feels like to have a family that keeps secrets."
I almost laughed.
Alessandro had built an entire marriage out of secrets.
He was certainly qualified.
"Did you ever go into my mother's bedroom without him?"
Valentina went quiet.
"Once."
My chest tightened.
"Why?"
"Because I was looking for something."
I stood.
"What?"
"A document."
"What document?"
"Alessandro said Elena Bennett might have hidden records about my mother."
I couldn't breathe.
"He told you to search that room?"
"No. He told me not to. But I thought he was keeping something from me."
I closed my eyes.
"And the other times?"
Her voice broke.
"I was there with him."
There was no excuse.
No misunderstanding.
Whatever secrets Alessandro was investigating, he'd chosen to betray me.
"Valentina, listen carefully. Did you find anything?"
"No."
"Did Alessandro?"
"I don't know."
I ended the call.
Then I called Thomas.
"We need to know whether Catherine Vale is alive."
He promised to investigate.
That evening, I returned to my mother's house.
The driveway was empty.
The windows were dark.
But as I stepped onto the porch, I noticed the front door was slightly open.
I froze.
I knew I'd locked it.
I backed away and called the police.
Then I called Rebecca.
By the time officers arrived, someone had searched the house.
Drawers were open.
Books lay scattered across the floor.
The painting had been torn from the wall.
Whoever entered had found the hidden compartment.
But the metal box was gone because I'd already given it to Thomas.
The police documented the damage.
They asked whether I suspected anyone.
I gave them the names of the people who knew about the evidence.
Including my husband.
One officer looked uncomfortable when I said Alessandro Moretti.
I noticed.
I always noticed.
After they left, Rebecca insisted I stay with her.
I agreed.
At 10:14 P.M., Thomas called.
His voice was serious.
"Sofia, we found something."
"What?"
"Catherine Vale didn't die."
I sat down.
"What?"
"Her disappearance was never officially resolved. But someone using her original birth details was admitted to a long-term care facility in Wisconsin eleven years ago."
My heart raced.
"Is she still there?"
"We're checking."
"Who paid for her care?"
Thomas hesitated.
"A private trust."
"Whose trust?"
"The Moretti Family Foundation."
I closed my eyes.
Alessandro had known.
For eleven years, his family had been paying to keep Catherine Vale somewhere nobody could find her.
And my mother's death had occurred that same year.
I looked at Rebecca.
"Something happened eleven years ago."
She nodded slowly.
"Something involving your mother, Catherine, and Alessandro."
My phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
Stop looking for Catherine Vale.
A second message followed.
Your mother tried to save her once. Look what happened.
I stared at the screen.
Then a photograph arrived.
It showed my mother's grave.
Taken that evening.
Someone had placed a single red rose on the headstone.
May you like
Beneath the photograph was one final sentence.
The next grave can be yours.
