Chapter 9 - The Daughter of a Ghost|
Norah did not speak during the drive back to the mansion.
The photograph lay in her lap. Every few minutes, she turned it over, as if the name written on the back might change if she looked at it long enough.
Nora Marie Vale.
She had been Norah Bennett for twenty-four years. She had attended school under that name, worked under that name, and buried her mother believing the woman who raised her had given her everything she possessed.
Now she was being told that her name was false, her mother's death might have been staged, and her childhood had been shaped by people who considered her existence dangerous.
Matteo watched her from the passenger seat.
“You don't have to decide what this means tonight.”
“That's easy for you to say.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't. You have a family name that opens doors. You have men who follow you because they fear you. If someone tells you that your father lied, you can investigate him.”
She looked down at the photograph.
“I can't investigate the people who made me.”
Matteo had no argument.
When they arrived at the mansion, Gabriel had already secured the study and arranged for the photograph to be examined. He also brought a file from the private archives.
“There's a record of a child named Nora Marie Vale,” he said. “Born twenty-four years ago at a private clinic in Chicago.”
Norah looked up.
“Who were her parents?”
Gabriel hesitated.
“The birth record lists Elizabeth Bennett as the mother. The father's name was left blank.”
“That proves nothing.”
“No,” Matteo said. “But the clinic was owned by a company controlled by Salvatore DeLuca.”
Norah stared at him.
“Why would Salvatore have anything to do with my birth?”
“That's what we need to find out.”
She stood and walked to the window.
“I need to be alone.”
Matteo nodded.
“Your room is secure. No one will enter without your permission.”
She turned back.
“And if I ask you to leave me alone?”
“I'll leave.”
For a moment, she searched his face.
Then she went upstairs.
Matteo waited until the door closed before calling Gabriel.
“Find every record associated with that clinic. Birth certificates, staff lists, financial records. Everything.”
“Already working on it.”
“And locate Salvatore.”
“We have a problem there.”
“What problem?”
“He hasn't been seen since this afternoon. His house is empty, his driver is missing, and his private plane left the airport an hour ago.”
Matteo's expression hardened.
“Where was it headed?”
“Unknown. The flight plan was filed under a shell company.”
Matteo turned toward the desk.
“Then we find the company.”
Gabriel hesitated.
“Boss, there's something else.”
He placed a second file on the desk.
It contained a report from the clinic.
Eleven years earlier, Elizabeth Bennett had entered the facility under an alias. She had been accompanied by a man identified as N. Vale.
The report described a serious injury and a request for emergency surgery. The patient had been transferred to another hospital before the procedure could be completed.
The final note had been added by hand.
Patient's identity confirmed by Salvatore DeLuca. Family notified.
Matteo read the page twice.
“Who was the patient?”
Gabriel turned to the next sheet.
The name was blacked out.
But a photograph had been attached.
It showed a young man with dark hair, a sharp jaw, and a scar across his left eyebrow.
Matteo recognized him immediately.
Adrian.
The date was three weeks after the warehouse fire.
Matteo's hands went cold.
“My brother was alive after the fire.”
“According to this record, yes.”
“Why was he listed under Vale?”
Gabriel did not answer.
A sound came from the stairs.
Norah stood there, pale and barefoot, holding a small tin box.
“I found this in my mother's old suitcase,” she said.
She set it on the desk.
“I thought it was empty. The bottom was heavier than it should have been.”
Matteo opened the box.
Inside were letters, a small key, and a folded sheet of paper covered in Elizabeth's handwriting.
Norah reached for the paper, but Matteo waited until she nodded before handing it to her.
She unfolded it.
My dearest Norah,
If you are reading this, I have failed to keep you away from the people who destroyed our lives. I need you to understand that I never lied to you because I thought you were weak. I lied because you were the only innocent person left in a war that had already consumed everyone else.
The truth about your father is not what you were told. He was not a criminal, and he was not a coward. He tried to stop a man who had bought the loyalty of our family.
The night of the warehouse fire, I was supposed to take you away. I was supposed to leave Chicago and never return. But Adrian came to me with a promise. He told me he would end the corruption and make sure you never had to hide again.
He kept that promise as long as he could.
Norah's fingers trembled.
“Who was my father?”
She continued reading.
Your father was the only man who ever made me believe that a better life was possible. His name was Nathaniel Vale. He died before you were born, but he left behind something the people who killed him could never understand.
He left you.
The letter ended with a warning.
If Matteo Falcone ever learns the full truth, do not let him make a decision before he understands what his father did. Matteo is not his father, but he has inherited the same enemies. And those enemies will use you to control him.
Norah lowered the page.
“Who was Nathaniel Vale?”
Matteo looked at the clinic record.
“A man my father described as a traitor.”
“What did he do?”
“He was an accountant. He worked with Adrian on the organization's financial records.”
“Was he killed?”
Matteo hesitated.
“Officially, he died in a car accident twenty-five years ago.”
Norah gave a short, disbelieving laugh.
“Of course he did.”
She picked up the small key from the tin box.
It bore the number seventeen.
Matteo stared at it.
“The deposit box.”
Norah nodded.
“My mother had another key.”
Gabriel examined the key carefully.
“This one is different. The original had a square head. This has a circular one.”
Matteo turned it over.
A tiny inscription had been carved into the metal.
N.V. — 17 — B.
“B could stand for the bank,” Gabriel said.
Norah shook her head.
“No. My mother always said that if I ever found this key, I should look for the place where the bells don't ring.”
Matteo frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know. She never explained.”
He thought for several seconds.
Then he remembered the abandoned chapel behind the cemetery, the building where they had found his father's ledger.
There had been no bell tower.
Only a locked basement door.
“Gabriel, get the car.”
Norah moved toward the door.
“I'm coming.”
Matteo turned.
“This could be dangerous.”
“I know.”
“You don't have to prove anything to me.”
“I'm not trying to prove anything to you. I'm trying to find out who I am.”
He stepped aside.
“Then we go together.”
As they reached the entrance, Gabriel's phone rang.
He answered, listened, and turned pale.
“Boss, we've found Salvatore.”
“Where?”
Gabriel swallowed.
“On the security feed from the private airport.”
“And?”
“He wasn't boarding the plane.”
“Then what was he doing?”
Gabriel turned the screen toward Matteo.
Salvatore stood beside the aircraft, speaking to a man whose face was hidden beneath a hood.
The man removed one glove.
A silver ring gleamed on his finger.
The matching ring Adrian had worn.
Matteo stared at the screen.
“No.”
The hooded man turned toward the camera.
For one clear second, his face was visible.
It was Adrian Falcone.
May you like
Alive.
And smiling.
