Chapter 6 - THE MESSAGE MARCO LEFT BEHIND|
Claire did not open the door until she heard Marco step away from it.
When she finally looked into the corridor, it was empty except for a thick brown envelope resting against the wall.
She carried it inside, locked the door, and examined the contents without sitting down.
The envelope contained printed emails, a photograph, and a handwritten note.
The photograph showed Sophia standing outside a private medical clinic six years earlier. Beside her was an older man Claire recognized from photographs in Vincent's office: Anthony Moretti, Vincent's uncle and former adviser.
The emails were more troubling.
One message, sent months before Sophia joined Vincent's company, contained a line that made Claire's hands go cold.
She has the same profile as Isabella. If Vincent responds to the resemblance, keep her close. He'll never admit why.
The sender's name had been blacked out.
Another email mentioned an old accident file, a payment to a witness, and a sealed box stored in a private office at the Moretti estate.
Claire read the pages twice.
The documents did not prove a crime. They did, however, suggest that Sophia's resemblance to Isabella might not have been a coincidence exploited by fate.
Someone had noticed it.
Someone had planned around it.
Claire called Marco.
He answered immediately.
“You received the envelope?”
“Yes. Why are you giving this to me?”
“Because I think you deserve to know that not everyone in Vincent's world is telling him the truth.”
“Who sent those emails?”
“I don't know. I found them in a file Anthony told me to move.”
“Why didn't you show Vincent?”
Marco was quiet.
“Because the last time I questioned Anthony, he reminded me that my daughter attends a private school paid for through a company I don't control.”
Claire understood the threat beneath the words.
“Are you saying he threatened your family?”
“I'm saying I have to be careful.”
“Then you shouldn't be involved in this.”
“I've been involved for years, Mrs. Moretti. I just told myself I was following orders.”
Claire looked at the photograph again.
“What do you want from me?”
“Nothing. I wanted you to have the information before you left Chicago.”
“How do you know I'm leaving?”
“Because you finally hired a lawyer. People who intend to stay usually don't start making that many arrangements.”
Despite herself, Claire almost smiled.
“Thank you.”
“Don't thank me yet. There's something else.”
She waited.
“Vincent thinks Sophia reminds him of Isabella because of the way she looks. But Anthony has been asking questions about Isabella's death for months. He wants the old accident file destroyed.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Then find out.”
Marco let out a short, humorless breath.
“You sound like the woman I remember.”
“What woman is that?”
“The one who once told Vincent that fear wasn't the same as loyalty.”
Claire remembered the conversation. She had said it during their first year of marriage, after Vincent punished a man for questioning an order. Vincent had laughed then, but the next morning he had changed the man's assignment rather than dismissing him.
She had believed her words mattered.
Perhaps they had, in ways she never saw.
“Marco,” she said carefully, “I'm leaving Chicago. I cannot be responsible for what happens inside your organization.”
“I understand.”
“If these documents involve a crime, take them to a legitimate attorney. Not me.”
“I will.”
“And don't use my name as a reason to approach Vincent.”
“I won't.”
After the call, Claire placed the envelope inside her suitcase.
She could have ignored it. She could have boarded the plane, started her new job, and never looked back.
But something about the emails bothered her.
Sophia had arrived in Vincent's life at a moment when he was already emotionally vulnerable. Anthony had encouraged the resemblance to Isabella. And now someone wanted the accident file destroyed.
Claire wondered whether Vincent's grief had been manipulated.
Then she remembered that even if Sophia had been planted in his life, nobody had forced Vincent to abandon his wife in the rain.
He was responsible for his choices.
The distinction mattered.
At 10:40 that night, Vincent sent a message from his personal number.
I know you're upset. Come home and we can fix this.
Claire read it, then placed the phone face down.
Another message followed.
I don't want to lose you.
For one painful second, the words reached the part of her that still loved him.
She imagined going back. She imagined telling him about the baby and watching his face change.
Then she imagined him explaining why he had held the umbrella over Sophia.
She imagined five more years of secrecy, excuses, and promises.
Claire deleted the message.
In the morning, she would leave Chicago.
Whatever secrets the Moretti family had buried, she would not sacrifice her future to uncover them.
But as she zipped her suitcase, she noticed one final detail on the photograph.
On the back, someone had written a date.
The date of Isabella Hayes's death.
May you like
And beneath it, in a different handwriting, were four words:
She never died there.
