Chapter 5 - The Price of My Mother's Silence
By the fifth morning after leaving Alessandro, I had learned three things.
My father might have been murdered.
My mother had hidden evidence about the people responsible.
And my husband's family had been paying for the care of a missing woman whose daughter had become his mistress.
I had also learned that fear could be useful.
It sharpened everything.
Every sound.
Every unfamiliar vehicle.
Every hesitation in a person's voice.
But I refused to let it make my decisions.
Thomas arranged a meeting with federal investigators through an attorney who had handled organized crime cases.
I gave them copies of the documents, the threatening messages, and the photograph of my mother's grave.
I also told them about Alessandro's admission that he had approached me because of my mother's records.
They listened carefully.
They made no promises.
They warned me not to investigate on my own.
For once, I intended to listen.
Then Gabriel disappeared.
His driver called me that afternoon.
He said Gabriel had gone to meet a former Bellwether employee and never returned.
His phone was off.
His car had been found abandoned near an industrial park.
I immediately informed Thomas.
He passed the information to the investigators.
Two hours later, Alessandro arrived at Rebecca's apartment.
He came alone.
No guards.
No driver.
No expensive coat.
Just my husband standing in the hallway looking like he hadn't slept in days.
Rebecca opened the door but refused to let him inside.
"Sofia doesn't want to see you."
I stepped into the hallway.
"It's okay."
Alessandro looked at me.
His expression changed.
For a moment, I saw the man who had once brought me coffee in bed and kissed my forehead before leaving for work.
Then I remembered Valentina.
And my mother's bedroom.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"Gabriel is missing."
"I know."
"He's in danger."
"Then help the police find him."
Alessandro looked frustrated.
"Sofia, you don't understand what you're dealing with."
"Then explain it."
He hesitated.
I shook my head.
"Still protecting your secrets?"
"I'm trying to protect you."
"That's what you said about my father."
His face tightened.
"Your father discovered a network that was selling confidential medical information to people who used it for blackmail and financial crimes."
I stared at him.
"Who was running it?"
"Victor Russo and Charles Whitcomb."
"And your father?"
"He knew money was being moved. I don't know how much he understood about the medical records."
"What did you know?"
Alessandro swallowed.
"I signed the property transfer. I didn't know Daniel Bennett was investigating it."
"Did you know he was going to die?"
"No."
I studied his face.
For fourteen years, I had believed I could tell when he was lying.
Now I wasn't sure.
"Why did you approach me?"
"Because my father believed Elena had copies of the financial records."
"And you agreed to use me."
"Yes."
The admission was quiet.
Ugly.
Honest.
I felt tears burn my eyes.
"Did you ever intend to tell me?"
"Every year."
I laughed.
"That's not an answer."
"No," he said. "I was afraid you'd leave."
"And you thought hiding it would keep me?"
"I thought if I loved you enough, the beginning wouldn't matter."
I stared at him.
"You don't get to decide which truths matter to me."
He lowered his head.
"I know."
I took a breath.
"Why was Catherine Vale hidden in Wisconsin?"
His expression changed.
"How did you find her?"
"Answer me."
"Your mother found her."
I went still.
"Eleven years ago, Elena discovered Catherine was alive. She'd been kept isolated under another name after she threatened to expose the medical records operation."
"By whom?"
"Whitcomb's people."
"Why didn't my mother tell the police?"
"She tried. The first attorney she contacted was compromised. After that, she asked Gabriel and me for help."
My chest tightened.
"And you helped?"
"We moved Catherine to a facility under a protected identity. We funded her care through a trust."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Elena asked us not to."
I stared.
"Why?"
"Because she believed someone close to the family was still working for Whitcomb."
"Who?"
"We never proved it."
I thought about the photograph.
The scratched-out face.
Victor Russo.
The old accounts.
And then something occurred to me.
"Why did my mother give Gabriel the letter instead of you?"
Alessandro looked away.
"Because she didn't trust me completely."
The admission hurt him.
I could see it.
But it didn't hurt him nearly as much as his lies had hurt me.
"She was right," I said.
He closed his eyes.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I asked the question I'd been avoiding.
"Why Valentina?"
His expression crumpled.
There was no other word for it.
"I was selfish."
"That's all?"
"I liked being wanted without being questioned. She made me feel like I could escape everything I'd done."
I stared at him.
"And I was the woman who reminded you of your responsibilities."
"No."
"Yes."
He looked at me desperately.
"I never stopped loving you."
I shook my head.
"You didn't have to stop loving me to destroy our marriage."
He had no answer.
I turned toward the apartment.
"Sofia."
I stopped.
"Gabriel was investigating Whitcomb. I think he found proof that someone inside our organization has been helping him."
"Then give that information to the investigators."
"I will."
I looked back.
"And Alessandro?"
"Yes?"
"Don't confuse helping solve this with earning me back."
His face fell.
"I understand."
But I wasn't sure he did.
That night, Thomas called with an update.
Catherine Vale was alive.
She had been moved to a secure medical facility after investigators learned about the threats.
Her condition was stable.
And she had asked to speak with me.
Not Valentina.
Not Alessandro.
Me.
I asked why.
Thomas paused.
"Because she says your mother left something with her."
"What?"
"A recording."
I gripped the phone.
"Of whom?"
"Your father."
May you like
For the first time in twenty years, there was a possibility that I might hear Daniel Bennett's voice again.
And discover what he had known before he died.
