THE DENTIST WHO UNCOVERED THE BLACK KING’S DARKEST SECRET

Carmine's revelation followed me through the night.

My father had never mentioned Isabella Moretti. He had never spoken about Salvatore's shooting, the harbor, or a surgeon named Adrian Voss. Yet somehow, all those names had become connected to the red notebook missing from his desk.

At breakfast, Salvatore found me studying the photograph of my father.

“Do you believe your brother?” I asked.

“I believe Carmine knows something. That isn't the same as believing his explanation.”

“Did he know Isabella?”

“Yes. He arranged the engagement dinner. He helped choose the venue. He was the first person who told me she'd died.”

“Then he had access to everything.”

Salvatore nodded slowly.

“I spent eight years protecting the memory of a woman I believed was dead. If she was alive, I need to know why she left.”

“And if your brother helped her disappear?”

His expression hardened.

“Then he'll answer for it.”

We drove to the café with Rocco following at a distance. Margaret was waiting at a corner table, clutching a folder against her chest.

She was in her seventies, with silver hair and the tired, watchful expression of someone who had carried an uncomfortable memory for too long.

When Salvatore approached, she stiffened.

“I don't want trouble,” she said.

“Neither do I,” he replied. “I want the truth.”

Margaret opened the folder.

The discharge notes showed that Salvatore had suffered multiple injuries during the harbor attack. A small metallic object had been observed near the upper jaw. The next day's report claimed it had been removed during surgery.

But there was no surgical record, no specimen log, and no signed confirmation.

“Someone changed the documentation,” I said.

Margaret nodded.

“I questioned it. Dr. Voss told me it was a clerical error. Two days later, I was reassigned.”

“Did you see my father?” I asked.

She looked at me sharply.

“Your father came to the hospital that night.”

My throat tightened.

“What was he doing there?”

“He treated one of the security guards after a fight at the clinic earlier that week. The guard asked him to come because he had a broken tooth and couldn't afford the hospital's dental fees. Your father was leaving when he saw a woman being escorted through a service entrance.”

“Isabella?”

“I don't know her name. She was wearing a coat over a hospital gown. She was bleeding from her forehead, and she kept asking for someone called Salvatore.”

Salvatore gripped the edge of the table.

“What happened to her?”

Margaret shook her head.

“Your brother arrived. He spoke to the staff, then took her away. I never saw her again.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” Salvatore asked.

“I tried. I called your office several times. Each time, someone told me you were too ill to receive visitors. Then a man visited my home and advised me to stop asking questions.”

“Who?”

Margaret looked at Carmine's photograph in the folder.

“I never saw his face clearly. But he wore a ring with a black stone.”

Salvatore glanced at his own ring.

“Isabella had one,” I said.

Margaret nodded.

“Your brother wore one, too.”

Salvatore went very still.

Carmine had always claimed the ring was a family heirloom. I'd seen him wearing it at the mansion.

“Do you still have the visitor's name?” I asked.

Margaret reached into the folder and pulled out a small slip of paper.

It contained a name and an address.

Adrian Voss.

Then she caught my wrist.

“There is one more thing,” she whispered. “Your father came back the following week. He said a woman had left something in his care. He told me if anyone ever asked, I should say I remembered nothing.”

“What did she leave?”

Margaret looked toward the window.

“I don't know. But your father was terrified.”

A car pulled up outside.

Margaret saw it and suddenly stood.

“That's the same car.”

Rocco moved toward the door, but the vehicle accelerated away.

Margaret shoved the folder into my hands.

“Don't go to Voss's house,” she warned. “He'll know you're coming.”