Chapter 7 - What Isabella Remembered|
Isabella led Sophie into a private sitting room overlooking the hotel courtyard. Massimo followed, ordering Rafael to keep the corridor clear.
For several moments, Isabella simply held the photograph.
Sophie recognized the woman beside her as her mother, Margaret Miller. She had been six years old when Margaret died in a car accident outside Chicago. Her father had raised her alone until his death when Sophie was twenty-two.
She had never questioned the official report.
Now the past had returned carrying a message from a stranger.
“Tell me what you know,” Sophie said.
Isabella lowered herself into a chair.
“Your mother worked for a charitable foundation that provided housing and legal assistance to women escaping violent homes. She was brave, stubborn, and very difficult to frighten.”
“That sounds like her.”
“You knew her?”
“I met her twice.”
Sophie stared.
“What?”
“Your mother came to me before she died. She was investigating financial irregularities involving the foundation. Money intended for vulnerable women had been diverted into accounts controlled by men connected to my late husband.”
Massimo's expression darkened.
“Which men?”
Isabella looked at him.
“Your father was one of them.”
The room fell silent.
Massimo stepped back as though she had struck him.
“My father?”
“He signed documents he did not fully understand. But Vittorio knew exactly what was happening.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of Vittorio?”
“Of what would happen to you if you knew.”
Sophie felt anger rise through her shock.
“My mother died, and you kept this secret for twenty-three years?”
“I believed the evidence had disappeared. I believed that if I remained silent, you could live a normal life.”
“You don't get to decide what I deserve to know.”
Isabella accepted the accusation without defending herself.
“No. I don't.”
She explained that Margaret had gathered copies of financial records and planned to deliver them to a federal investigator. The night before her death, Isabella had received a call from Margaret asking to meet.
But Margaret never arrived.
“The next morning, I heard about the accident,” Isabella said. “When I went to the police station, Vittorio was already there.”
Massimo's voice became dangerously quiet.
“Why?”
“He told them he was representing the family.”
“He wasn't a lawyer then.”
“He knew the right people.”
Sophie looked at the photograph.
“Did you see my mother that night?”
Isabella nodded.
“Briefly. She came to the estate. She was frightened. She left a small package with me and asked me to keep it safe.”
“Where is it?”
“I hid it in the one place Vittorio would never search.”
“Where?”
Isabella hesitated.
“The chapel at the old Romano property.”
Massimo immediately called Rafael and ordered him to prepare a car.
Before they could leave, the sitting-room door opened.
Vittorio stood in the doorway.
“Mother, I thought we agreed not to discuss old tragedies at social events.”
Isabella rose.
“We agreed to nothing.”
Vittorio's gaze settled on Sophie.
“Miss Miller. I understand you've been receiving unpleasant messages.”
“Your concern is touching.”
“Be careful. Curiosity has ruined better people than you.”
Massimo stepped between them.
“Leave.”
Vittorio smiled faintly.
“You've become remarkably protective of a woman you met three days ago.”
“Perhaps I recognize a threat when I see one.”
“Perhaps you're confusing attraction with judgment.”
Massimo's expression didn't change.
“Get out.”
Vittorio left, but his smile lingered.
As the door closed, Isabella took Sophie's hand.
“There is something else you must know.”
Sophie looked at her.
“Your mother didn't only leave evidence at the chapel.”
“Then what?”
Isabella's eyes filled with tears.
“She left a child with me.”
Sophie went still.
“What child?”
May you like
Isabella whispered the name.
“Your sister.”
