Chapter 13 - THE WOMAN WHO CALLED FROM BOSTON|
The call arrived on a Thursday evening, just as Claire was preparing dinner.
The number was unfamiliar, and she almost let it go to voicemail. Then she remembered the threatening messages and answered cautiously.
“Hello?”
A woman's voice responded.
“Is this Claire Moretti?”
Claire froze.
“Who is this?”
“My name is Margaret Hayes. I believe you have a photograph of my daughter.”
Claire gripped the counter.
“Your daughter?”
“Isabella.”
For a moment, the apartment seemed to tilt.
“Isabella Hayes is dead,” Claire said.
“That is what they told me.”
The older woman's voice trembled, but there was steel beneath the fear.
“I was told my daughter died in a car accident. I never saw her body. They said identification had been confirmed, and I was too devastated to question the paperwork. A few months later, someone sent me a letter telling me to stop asking questions.”
Claire sat down slowly.
“Why are you calling me?”
“Because someone contacted me last week. They said the woman who married Vincent Moretti had left Chicago and might have information.”
Claire's throat tightened.
“Who contacted you?”
“I don't know. The message came through a lawyer who refused to identify the sender.”
“Do you have proof that Isabella survived?”
“I have something. A letter she wrote shortly before the accident. It arrived after she was supposedly dead.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“What did it say?”
Margaret took a shaky breath.
“She said she had discovered something about the Moretti family. She said she was frightened. She told me that if anything happened to her, I should look for a little girl named Sophia.”
Claire felt the room grow cold.
Sophia.
“Why would Isabella mention her?”
“I don't know. Sophia was a child then. Isabella had no children of her own, as far as I knew.”
Claire remembered the clinic photograph and the altered name.
“Mrs. Hayes, I need you to understand that I'm not involved with Vincent anymore. We're divorcing.”
“I know.”
“And I can't promise to help you.”
“I'm not asking you to save my marriage. I'm asking you to help me find out whether my daughter is alive.”
Claire looked at the ultrasound photograph on the counter.
She thought about the terror in Margaret's voice, the years of grief she had carried, and the possibility that someone had stolen a daughter's life from her without ever allowing her to say goodbye.
“I'll speak with my attorney,” Claire said. “If we can arrange this safely and lawfully, I'll hear what you have.”
Margaret began to cry.
“Thank you.”
After the call, Claire contacted Jonathan and told him everything. He instructed her not to meet Margaret alone and arranged for a preliminary conversation through counsel.
The next afternoon, Claire joined a secure video call.
Margaret appeared on screen in a modest living room. She had silver hair, tired eyes, and the same delicate smile Claire remembered from Isabella's photographs.
She held up a sealed envelope.
“This was delivered to me six years ago. I kept it because I couldn't bear to throw away anything with my daughter's handwriting.”
“Have you opened it?”
“No. It was sealed with a second envelope inside. I was afraid the contents would prove that she was dead—or that she had been alive and wanted nothing to do with me.”
Claire's expression softened.
“Would you be willing to let an attorney examine it?”
“Yes.”
Margaret placed the envelope on the table.
Before the call ended, she leaned closer to the camera.
“There is something else you should know. Isabella was pregnant when she disappeared.”
Claire stopped breathing.
“Are you certain?”
“She told me herself. She was frightened, but she was happy. She said the father was a man she loved who would never forgive himself if he knew the truth.”
Vincent.
The name remained unspoken, but both women understood.
Claire felt the old ache of betrayal mixing with something far more unsettling.
If Isabella had been pregnant, then Sophia's connection to her might not be a coincidence.
And if Isabella had survived, the woman Vincent had mourned for years might still be alive.
Claire ended the call and sat in silence.
May you like
She had left Chicago to protect her future.
Now the past was knocking on her door, carrying the possibility that Vincent's greatest regret had never been what he believed.
