Chapter 2 - The Secret in His Mother's Name|
At six in the morning, Gabriel stood in the kitchen of his mansion with the financial statement spread across the marble island.
The coffee in front of him had gone cold.
He had not slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Anna sitting beneath the bathroom light, cutting away the hair she had once asked him to brush.
And every time he looked at the document, the same question returned.
Why had his mother been involved in his wife's medical care?
Lucia Moretti lived in a separate wing of the estate, where she maintained her own staff and received visitors who rarely appeared on the family's official calendar. At sixty-two, she was elegant, disciplined, and accustomed to being obeyed.
She had raised Gabriel after his father was killed in a dispute that the police never solved. She had taught him that fear could be managed, loyalty could be purchased, and weakness was an invitation to be exploited.
She had also taught him that family secrets should never leave the family.
Gabriel walked into her sitting room without knocking.
Lucia sat beside the window, reading a newspaper.
“You're up early,” she said.
“Why are you paying for Anna's treatment?”
The newspaper lowered.
For a brief moment, something like alarm crossed her face. Then it disappeared.
“I was helping her.”
“Without telling me?”
“Anna asked me not to.”
Gabriel felt a sharp twist of anger.
“My wife has cancer, and you both decided I was the last person who needed to know?”
Lucia folded the newspaper.
“She wanted time to process the diagnosis. I respected her wishes.”
“You paid the bills.”
“I have money.”
“That's not an answer.”
His mother regarded him calmly.
“Would you rather I had refused her help because you weren't informed?”
Gabriel opened his mouth, then closed it.
He had come prepared to accuse her of interference. Instead, she had made him confront the possibility that Anna had trusted his mother with something she could not trust him to hear.
“When did you find out?”
“Six weeks ago.”
“Who told you?”
“Anna.”
“Why you?”
Lucia looked toward the window.
“Because she was afraid you would react exactly as you are reacting now.”
He stared at her.
“You think I'm angry because she is sick?”
“No. I think you're angry because she made a decision without you, and you're frightened because you cannot undo it.”
The words struck harder than he expected.
Lucia rose and walked toward the sideboard.
“Your wife has spent years adapting to your life. She knows how to greet your men, how to smile when strangers discuss things she should never hear, and how to pretend that the sound of a car stopping outside at midnight doesn't frighten her.”
“She never said she was unhappy.”
“Would you have listened?”
Gabriel looked away.
His mother continued.
“She called me the night of her first treatment. She was sick, exhausted, and alone. She didn't want to worry you before you returned from New York.”
“I was home the following night.”
“And did you ask why she hadn't eaten?”
He remembered the dinner plate left untouched beside the bed.
He had assumed she was tired.
“Did you ask why she was sleeping during the day?” Lucia continued. “Or why she stopped wearing her wedding ring when her fingers began to swell?”
Gabriel's throat tightened.
“No.”
“Then don't punish her for finding someone who would listen.”
He turned toward the door.
“Where is she now?”
“Asleep.”
“I'm taking her to the hospital.”
“Her appointment is at nine. She knows that.”
“I'll drive her.”
Lucia studied him.
“Good. But don't turn her illness into another territory you believe you must control.”
Gabriel stopped.
His mother rarely offered advice without an ulterior motive. But this time, there was no triumph in her expression.
Only concern.
He returned to the bedroom just as Anna woke.
She looked at him, then at the clock.
“It's early.”
“I found the statement.”
Her face went pale.
“Gabriel—”
“I'm not angry with you.”
“You look angry.”
“I'm angry with myself.”
She sat up slowly.
“Your mother promised she wouldn't tell you.”
“She didn't. I found the paperwork.”
Anna pulled the blanket over her lap.
“I didn't want you to feel responsible for something you couldn't fix.”
“I'm your husband. I am responsible for being here.”
“Being here isn't the same as taking over.”
He nodded, accepting the rebuke.
“Then tell me what you need.”
She considered the question.
“I need you to drive me to treatment. I need you to listen when the doctor talks. And I need you to stop making promises about how everything will turn out.”
Gabriel sat on the edge of the bed.
“I can do that.”
“Can you?”
“I can try.”
It was the first honest answer he had given her in years.
Anna reached for his hand.
For a moment, he believed they might finally be finding their way back to each other.
Then her phone rang.
She glanced at the screen and immediately turned it facedown.
Gabriel noticed the name before she could hide it.
DR. ELLIOT REED.
“Who's that?” he asked.
“My doctor.”
“Why did you hide the call?”
“Because I don't want to talk about medicine before breakfast.”
She rose and walked toward the bathroom.
Gabriel let her go.
But when she returned ten minutes later, her phone lit up again on the nightstand.
A message appeared on the screen.
Anna, the results are worse than we expected. We need to discuss the next stage before tomorrow.
Gabriel read the words before he could stop himself.
Anna saw his expression.
And for the first time since he had found her cutting off her hair, she looked genuinely terrified of him.
May you like
Not because she thought he would hurt her.
Because she knew he was about to demand an answer she was not ready to give.
