Chapter 6 - The Lie Behind the Moretti Empire
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
Vincent stood directly in front of me.
"Daisy."
I stared at the phone.
"Daisy, what did she say?"
My mouth felt dry.
"She said your father knew where she was."
Vincent froze.
"What?"
"She said he was the reason she disappeared."
The room became silent.
Marco looked at his boss.
Vincent's face was unreadable.
Then he slowly shook his head.
"No."
I swallowed.
"Vincent—"
"My father spent years searching for her."
"That's what you were told."
He looked at me sharply.
I regretted the words immediately.
But I couldn't take them back.
His expression changed.
"You think he lied?"
"I don't know."
"He died believing his daughter was dead."
"Then why would Amelia say that?"
Vincent looked away.
For the first time since I'd met him, he seemed uncertain.
And somehow, that frightened me more than his anger.
We left the clinic under heavy security.
Vincent barely spoke during the drive.
I sat beside him in the back of the limousine, staring at the rain beginning to streak across the windows.
Finally, I broke the silence.
"Maybe she misunderstood."
He didn't answer.
"Maybe Whitcomb lied to her."
"Maybe."
His voice sounded empty.
I studied him.
"You don't believe that."
He turned toward me.
"I don't know what to believe."
I reached for his hand.
He hesitated.
Then let me take it.
"Then we find out."
His eyes met mine.
For a moment, the cold expression disappeared.
"You're very good at making things sound simple."
"They usually aren't."
"No."
"But we can still try."
He looked down at our joined hands.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
"Yes?"
A pause.
His eyes narrowed.
"Send the address."
He ended the call.
"Marco traced the number."
My heart jumped.
"Amelia?"
"Yes. The call came from a prepaid phone near an abandoned farmhouse."
"Where?"
"Forty minutes west."
I sat up.
"Then let's go."
Vincent shook his head.
"Not until we know whether it's a trap."
He looked at Marco.
"Two vehicles. No sirens. Nobody approaches until we confirm the perimeter."
I watched him give orders.
His voice changed.
Precise.
Commanding.
Dangerous.
This was the man everyone feared.
And I was beginning to understand why.
Forty minutes later, we arrived near the farmhouse.
The property stood behind a line of bare trees.
Its windows were dark.
A rusted swing moved slowly in the wind.
Vincent insisted I remain in the vehicle.
For once, I didn't argue.
Something about the place felt wrong.
His men moved quietly toward the house.
Minutes passed.
Then Marco's voice came through the radio.
"Clear."
Vincent looked at me.
"Stay close."
We entered through the kitchen.
Dust covered the counters.
The air smelled of damp wood.
Someone had been there recently.
A half-empty bottle of water sat on the table.
Beside it was a medical bag.
"Amelia?" I called.
Vincent gave me a warning look.
Then a floorboard creaked upstairs.
Every man in the room froze.
Vincent raised one hand.
"Come down slowly," he called.
Silence.
Then a woman's voice.
"Are you alone?"
Vincent looked toward the staircase.
"No."
"Then send them outside."
He hesitated.
"Amelia?"
A figure appeared at the top of the stairs.
Dark hair.
Gray eyes.
A white blouse stained with dirt.
Dr. Amelia Carter.
She looked exactly like her photograph.
Except she was holding a gun.
Vincent went completely still.
"Elena."
The woman flinched.
"Don't call me that."
His expression cracked.
"Please."
She aimed the gun toward the floor.
"Stay where you are."
I stepped forward.
"Amelia, I'm Daisy."
Her gaze moved to me.
For a moment, something softened.
"You look like your grandfather."
My throat tightened.
"You knew him?"
She nodded.
"He found me when I was little."
Vincent stared at her.
"Why didn't you tell my father?"
Her face hardened.
"Because he told me not to."
Silence.
Vincent shook his head.
"That's not possible."
Amelia descended two steps.
"Your father knew exactly where I was."
She reached into her pocket and removed an old photograph.
It showed a young Amelia standing beside Vincent's father.
My breath caught.
Vincent stared.
"When was this taken?"
"At my sixteenth birthday."
He looked devastated.
"Why would he hide you?"
Amelia's eyes filled with tears.
"Because he was trying to keep me alive."
Vincent froze.
"What?"
She lowered the gun completely.
"The men who took me weren't random enemies. They were people inside your father's organization."
Vincent's jaw tightened.
"Who?"
"His business partner."
"Which one?"
Amelia swallowed.
"Charles Whitcomb wasn't working alone."
She looked directly at Vincent.
"He was working for your uncle."
Vincent stared.
"Uncle Anthony?"
Amelia nodded.
"Anthony Moretti arranged the kidnapping. He wanted leverage against your father."
My stomach twisted.
Vincent took a step backward.
"Anthony helped raise me."
"I know."
"He taught me everything."
"I know."
Vincent's face became cold.
"Why didn't my father tell me?"
"Because Anthony threatened to kill me if you ever learned I was alive."
She began crying.
"Your father believed keeping me hidden was the only way to protect me."
Vincent looked as though the world had collapsed beneath him.
I stepped closer.
"Amelia, why come forward now?"
Her eyes moved toward me.
"Because Charles Whitcomb found me."
My stomach dropped.
"And?"
"He told me Robert Bennett had hidden evidence that could destroy Anthony."
Vincent's expression hardened.
"What evidence?"
Amelia shook her head.
"I don't know."
Then she looked at me.
"But he said Daisy was the key."
I stared at her.
"Me?"
She nodded.
"Your grandfather didn't just hide documents."
"What else?"
"He hid something inside the inn. Something Anthony has spent twenty-six years trying to recover."
Vincent leaned forward.
"What?"
Amelia swallowed.
"A ledger."
"A ledger?"
"Names. Dates. Payments. Every official Anthony bribed. Every witness he threatened. Every property he stole."
Vincent's face darkened.
"He could be prosecuted."
"Yes."
"And the inn?"
Amelia looked at me.
"Your grandfather hid the original there."
I stared.
"Where?"
She shook her head.
"I don't know."
Then she reached into her medical bag.
She removed a small envelope.
"My father gave me this before he died."
Vincent's eyes widened.
"Our father?"
Amelia nodded.
"He told me not to open it until I found Daisy Bennett."
She handed it to me.
My hands trembled.
Inside was a letter.
The handwriting was careful and elegant.
Daisy Bennett,
If you are reading this, Robert has kept his promise, and my daughter has found you.
I stared at the page.
Vincent leaned closer.
The letter continued.
The truth is not beneath the floor or behind the walls. Robert placed it where no thief would think to look.
Where a Bennett always keeps the most valuable thing she owns.
My brow furrowed.
"Where?"
Vincent looked at me.
"What does that mean?"
I read the line again.
Then something clicked.
Grandma had always said the same thing.
Whenever I asked her where she kept important documents, she smiled and said:
The safest place is where a Bennett keeps her heart.
I looked up.
"Oh, my God."
Vincent frowned.
May you like
"What?"
I whispered, "The recipe book."
