Chapter 7 - The Name He Never Mentioned|
Evelyn did not open the email immediately.
She took a screenshot, forwarded it to a secure account, and asked the hospital social worker to document when it had arrived. Then she showed me the message.
“What does it mean?” she asked.
I stared at the screen.
Vincent had told me that he had never been married before. His relationships before me had been brief, he said, and none had mattered.
I had never questioned him about the details.
There had always been something intimidating about the way he spoke of his past, as if every door he closed should remain closed forever.
“I don't know,” I admitted.
Evelyn looked concerned.
“Has anyone ever mentioned another wife?”
“No. Not directly.”
“An engagement? A serious relationship?”
I remembered Sophia once joking that Vincent had been “a completely different man before Claire came along.” When I asked what she meant, she had laughed and changed the subject.
“I'll ask him,” I said.
“No,” Evelyn replied. “Not yet. We don't know who sent this or whether the information is accurate.”
She contacted a colleague who handled complex financial and family matters. Meanwhile, the hospital arranged a brief visit with Grace, allowing me to see my daughter from a wheelchair.
The moment I saw her tiny face through the incubator, the rest of the world became distant.
“Hi, baby,” I whispered. “I'm your mommy.”
Her fingers moved beneath the blanket.
A nurse guided my hand through a small opening in the incubator. I touched my daughter's palm with one fingertip.
Her hand closed weakly around it.
I began to cry.
“She's so little,” I whispered.
“She is,” the nurse said. “But she's doing her best.”
I stayed until my arms began to tremble. When they wheeled me back to my room, I found a small bouquet of white roses on the bedside table.
There was no card.
I knew who had sent them.
I asked the nurse to remove them.
That afternoon, Vincent called Evelyn's office and requested a formal meeting. Evelyn agreed, provided Daniel was present and the conversation remained focused on the disputed documents.
Vincent arrived carrying a thick envelope.
“I reviewed the company records,” he said. “The transactions to Northlake were approved by Marcus Vale. I signed the general authorization for him to manage routine payments, but I did not approve transfers to Sophia's personal accounts.”
Evelyn opened the envelope.
“Can you prove that?”
“I have the original accounting records and a list of transfers that were never included in the reports I received.”
“Then preserve them and cooperate with the appropriate authorities.”
Vincent nodded.
He looked at me.
“I didn't know about the fake authorization. I didn't know about the missing files. But I knew I was giving Sophia money that should have been discussed with you.”
That was the first honest distinction he had made.
“I won't pretend I was innocent in everything,” he continued. “I ignored you. I made you feel like a guest in your own home. I thought you would always stay.”
“You did think that.”
His shoulders lowered.
“I was wrong.”
I wanted to ask him about the email, but Evelyn stopped me with a glance. She had just received a response from her colleague.
The email had included a photograph of an old newspaper clipping.
A woman stood beside a younger Vincent at a charity event. Her name was Elena Moretti.
The headline read: MISSING FIANCÉE OF RISING CHICAGO BUSINESSMAN FEARED DEAD.
I stared at the photograph.
“Vincent,” I whispered, “who is Elena?”
His face drained of color.
He reached for the clipping with shaking fingers.
May you like
Then he said something that made the room feel suddenly colder.
“Elena was my first wife.”
