Chapter 3 - The Woman in the Photograph
The photograph was three years old.
Elena looked younger.
Her hair was longer.
But there was no mistaking her.
She was standing beside Victor outside a private clinic.
I looked at her through the glass wall of the girls’ room.
She was laughing at something Lily had said.
Sofia was holding her hand.
I wanted to believe what my instincts were telling me.
But I had learned something important in the last twenty-four hours.
A photograph was evidence.
It was not the truth.
“Where was this taken?” I asked Marcus.
“Rome.”
“When?”
“Six weeks before Isabella died.”
“Find out why.”
Marcus nodded.
I went downstairs.
Elena followed.
She knew immediately that something had changed.
“What happened?”
I placed the photograph on the table.
Her face went white.
“I can explain.”
“Good.”
She stared at the picture.
“I was there.”
“Why?”
“My brother.”
I said nothing.
She continued.
“My younger brother, Matteo, was sick. We couldn't afford treatment. Victor offered help.”
“Why would my uncle help your family?”
“I didn't know.”
“Did you meet him before?”
“No.”
“Did you tell him about Sofia?”
Elena shook her head.
“He asked questions about your family.”
“What questions?”
“Whether Isabella was happy. Whether you traveled often. Whether the girls were receiving therapy.”
My voice lowered.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of Victor?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because after Matteo disappeared, Victor told me I would regret speaking.”
I stared at her.
“Your brother disappeared?”
She nodded.
“He was nineteen.”
“What happened?”
“He worked at a clinic where Isabella was treated.”
My stomach tightened.
“What clinic?”
“St. Cecilia.”
The same clinic named in Isabella's files.
Elena reached into her pocket.
She removed a folded photograph.
“This is my brother.”
The young man looked ordinary.
Too ordinary to have become part of my nightmare.
“What happened to him?”
“Three days after my last meeting with Victor, he vanished.”
“Did you report it?”
“Yes.”
“No one helped?”
“No.”
“Why take the maid job here?”
Elena swallowed.
“Because I wanted answers.”
The room became silent.
“You came here intentionally.”
“Yes.”
“You lied to get inside my house.”
“I lied about why I needed the job.”
I stepped closer.
“Did you ever plan to hurt my daughters?”
She looked horrified.
“Never.”
“Did you steal my wife's necklace?”
“No.”
“Did you work with Victor?”
“No.”
“Then why did he know you?”
She looked down.
“Because I made a deal with him.”
My jaw tightened.
“What deal?”
“I would keep quiet about what I knew. He would help me find my brother.”
“And did he?”
“No.”
Instead, he gave her a job.
In my house.
A job where she could watch Sofia.
That explained too much.
Before I could speak, the front door slammed.
Marcus rushed in.
“Victor escaped.”
“What?”
“He attacked one of the guards.”
I felt a cold calm settle over me.
“Where is he heading?”
“Unknown.”
“Find him.”
Marcus nodded.
Then his phone rang.
He listened.
His expression changed.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“Someone broke into the nursery.”
I ran upstairs.
The room was in chaos.
The hidden compartment had been opened.
The flash drive was gone.
So was Isabella's letter.
Only Sofia's blue walker remained in the center of the room.
I looked at it.
Something was wrong.
The left wheel had been removed.
Marcus searched the doorway.
I moved toward the walker.
Inside the hollow frame, I found a second flash drive.
Whoever had taken the obvious one had missed it.
I inserted it.
A recording appeared.
Isabella's face filled the screen.
“Adrian, if you found this, then they know.”
She looked directly into the camera.
“I don't know who will betray us.”
She paused.
“But I know what they want.”
The recording showed a document.
Sofia's medical records.
And one sentence highlighted in red.
“Permanent disability classification grants access to a protected trust.”
I stared.
“What trust?”
The file named the beneficiary.
Sofia Moretti.
The amount was forty million dollars.
A trust my father had established before his death.
It would become fully accessible only if Sofia remained permanently disabled until age eighteen.
My breath caught.
Victor had motive.
My mother had motive.
Someone wanted Sofia's condition to remain unchanged.
Isabella had discovered the plan.
And she had tried to stop it.
The next recording showed another person.
A lawyer.
He was speaking with Victor.
“The trust cannot be accessed unless the child meets the criteria.”
Victor asked, “And if she improves?”
“The money remains locked.”
My mother appeared.
She put an envelope on the table.
“Then make sure she doesn't improve.”
I stopped the video.
I felt something inside me break.
My mother had not merely abandoned Sofia.
She had made money from her suffering.
I turned toward Elena.
“You knew.”
She shook her head.
“I didn't know about the trust.”
“Then what did you know?”
“That someone was sabotaging her therapy.”
“How?”
“Every time she improved, her program changed.”
I remembered it.
Three different therapists.
Three different recommendations.
Every time Sofia began making progress, someone canceled treatment.
And every time, my mother reassured me that she was protecting her.
I looked at the security monitors.
“Show me the nursery footage from the night of the robbery.”
Marcus pulled it up.
There was a masked figure.
Small.
Thin.
Moving quickly.
But the person stopped near the camera.
They knew where it was.
Then they turned.
The mask shifted.
I recognized the tattoo on the wrist.
Victor.
My mother's office phone rang.
Marcus answered.
His expression changed.
“It's for you.”
I took the phone.
A distorted male voice said:
“You're looking in the wrong direction.”
“Who is this?”
“You want the truth about Isabella?”
“Yes.”
“Then ask Elena what she was doing in the hospital the night your wife died.”
The line went dead.
I turned.
Elena was crying.
“I was there.”
“Why?”
“Because Isabella called me.”
My body went still.
“What did she say?”
“She said she was afraid.”
“Afraid of who?”
“Elena?”
May you like
She looked at me.
“Your mother.”
