Dominic was waiting outside Matteo’s hospital room when I arrived.
He had changed clothes, but he clearly hadn’t slept.
“Why is Anthony in a picture following your wife?”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
“You saw it.”
“That’s why you sent Marco.”
He motioned toward an empty consultation room.
I followed.
The moment the door closed, Dominic handed me a folder.
“These were in Sofia’s safe.”
I opened it.
Medical records.
Invoices.
Names.
Dr. Charles Vane’s clinic appeared repeatedly.
“What was she doing?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“I didn’t know she was going.”
That hurt him.
His wife had been keeping secrets.
“She had access to your finances?”
“Yes.”
“She was investigating something.”
“That’s what I think.”
I turned another page.
Several payments had been made from a Moretti-controlled charitable foundation to Vane’s private clinic.
Large payments.
Too large for routine medical services.
“What is the Moretti Children’s Foundation?”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“My mother started it twenty years ago.”
“What does it do?”
“Pays medical expenses for families who can’t afford treatment.”
“That sounds unusually wholesome.”
He gave me a flat look.
“My mother was complicated.”
“Meaning?”
“She believed no child should suffer because adults made bad decisions.”
That sounded less complicated than he wanted to admit.
I studied the documents.
“Why would a charity be paying Dr. Vane this much?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Dominic added, “Anthony oversees the foundation.”
There it was.
The first real crack.
“What exactly does Anthony do for you?”
“He handles legitimate operations.”
“You trust him?”
“I did.”
Past tense.
I closed the folder.
“Don’t accuse him yet.”
Dominic stared.
“You think I need advice on how to handle betrayal?”
“I think if Sofia was investigating him and ended up dead, walking up and telling Anthony you know could be stupid.”
His expression chilled.
“No one calls me stupid.”
“I didn’t.”
“You came close.”
“Get used to it.”
For one second Marco looked horrified.
Dominic almost smiled again.
Then Matteo’s nurse appeared.
“They’re preparing him for surgery.”
Everything else vanished.
Dominic went inside.
I stayed near the doorway.
Matteo looked impossibly small beneath the hospital blankets.
Dominic stood beside him, uncertain where to place his hands.
“Touch him,” I said.
Dominic glanced back.
“What?”
“He knows your voice. Your smell. Touch him.”
Dominic carefully placed two fingers against his son’s hand.
Matteo’s fingers curled around one.
Dominic froze.
I watched a man who could command an entire city become overwhelmed by five tiny fingers.
“He does that on purpose?”
“Probably reflex.”
Dominic looked almost disappointed.
I smiled.
“But he knows you’re there.”
He bent closer.
“Hey.”
His voice sounded awkward.
“You need to stop doing this.”
I stared.
“That’s your comforting speech?”
“I’m new.”
“Clearly.”
Dominic looked at Matteo.
Then tried again.
“Your mother would be very angry with me right now.”
His voice cracked.
Only once.
“Sofia knew what to say.”
He swallowed.
“I don’t.”
Matteo tightened his tiny hand.
Dominic whispered, “So stay long enough to teach me.”
I turned away because grief arrived too quickly.
Leo’s tiny fingers had held mine the same way.
The surgery took less than an hour.
It was successful.
Dr. Patel explained that Matteo should recover well.
Dominic thanked her.
Actually thanked her.
Then he sat beside his son for nearly three straight hours.
No phone.
No meetings.
No men entering the room.
Only Matteo.
I left after lunch.
But before I reached the lobby, Marco caught up.
“You should see this.”
He handed me a photocopy.
It was an internal complaint filed against Dr. Vane two years earlier.
A mother alleged that Vane ignored dangerous symptoms in her infant.
There had been complications.
The baby survived.
Another complaint involved incorrect medication doses.
A third involved missing controlled substances.
“That’s why he left St. Catherine?”
“Partly.”
“What’s the rest?”
Marco lowered his voice.
“Somebody paid the families.”
“Who?”
He looked at me.
“The Moretti Children’s Foundation.”
My stomach sank.
Anthony.
The charity wasn’t only helping children.
Someone was using it to bury Vane’s mistakes.
Why?
Marco continued.
“Sofia discovered discrepancies four months ago.”
“How do you know?”
“Her laptop.”
“She was investigating Anthony.”
“Yes.”
“Did Dominic know?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Marco hesitated.
“Marriage was complicated.”
“That’s vague.”
“Dominic was trying to leave certain businesses.”
That surprised me.
“What businesses?”
Marco gave me a look.
I understood.
“Right.”
He continued.
“Anthony disagreed. Sofia wanted Matteo raised somewhere safer.”
“And Dominic?”
“He wanted the same thing.”
“Then why the problems?”
“Because walking away isn’t simple.”
I thought about Dominic.
Dangerous.
Powerful.
Terrified of becoming a bad father.
“Was Sofia leaving him?”
Marco shook his head.
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she bought a house.”
“For herself?”
“For them.”
He showed me a photograph of a property in Wisconsin.
Quiet road.
Trees.
Lake.
“She planned to tell Dominic after she finished proving what Anthony had done.”
“What exactly had he done?”
“We don’t know yet.”
That answer lasted until evening.
Then Dominic called.
“Elena.”
“How did you get my number?”
“Victor.”
“Of course.”
“Come to my house.”
“No.”
Silence.
“You refuse quickly.”
“I’ve had practice since meeting you.”
“Elena.”
Something in his voice changed.
“What happened?”
“We found Sofia’s final notes.”
I sat down.
“And?”
“She wrote one sentence.”
“What?”
Dominic paused.
“Anthony knows about the babies.”
Every hair on my arms rose.
“What babies?”
“I don’t know.”
I went.
Dominic lived in an enormous limestone house in Lincoln Park.
Security everywhere.
Inside, however, the house felt empty.
A nursery sat upstairs.
Unused.
Sofia’s clothes still hung in the closet.
Her perfume remained on the dresser.
Dominic led me into an office.
Marco was there.
So was Bianca Moretti, Dominic’s sister.
She was early thirties, elegant, exhausted, and angry.
“You’re the waitress,” she said.
“Elena.”
“The waitress who embarrassed my brother.”
“I also helped his son.”
Bianca’s mouth tightened.
“Fair.”
On the desk lay Sofia’s notebook.
Most pages contained financial figures and names.
One page had been ripped.
The next page held the sentence.
Anthony knows about the babies.
Below it were three initials.
L.R.
M.C.
E.R.
My stomach dropped.
E.R.
“That could be anyone,” Bianca said.
I stared.
“What?”
Dominic noticed.
“What is it?”
“My initials are E.R.”
“Elena Russo,” Marco said.
The room went quiet.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Dominic said.
“No.”
But suddenly I was remembering something.
Four years earlier.
Leo’s final surgery.
A private pediatric cardiologist had consulted on his case.
I had barely seen him.
He had come recommended through a hospital charity program.
I had been too exhausted to remember much.
But I remembered his name.
Charles Vane.
My knees nearly gave out.
Dominic caught my arm.
“What?”
“Vane treated Leo.”
His expression changed.
“What?”
“Not directly. He consulted. The hospital said a charitable foundation would cover some expenses.”
Marco looked at Dominic.
“The Moretti Foundation.”
I stared at the notebook.
My son’s initials.
A dead mother’s investigation.
A corrupt doctor.
Anthony Moretti.
“No,” I whispered.
Dominic moved closer.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking Sofia wasn’t investigating something that started with Matteo.”
The front door slammed downstairs.
Footsteps followed.
Then Anthony’s voice echoed through the hallway.
“Dominic?”
Everyone froze.
Anthony entered the office.
He stopped when he saw the notebook.
Then he saw me.
For the first time since I had met him, the color left his face.
Dominic noticed.
So did I.
Anthony forced a smile.
“What is she doing here?”
Dominic looked at his cousin.
“Funny.”
His voice was almost gentle.
“We were just about to ask you the same thing.”
Anthony’s eyes dropped to Sofia’s notes.
And for one second, fear appeared.
Then he turned toward the door.
Marco moved first.
He blocked it.
Dominic never raised his voice.
“Sit down, Anthony.”
Anthony slowly turned back.
“Or what?”
Dominic looked at him.
“Or you confirm every suspicion in this room.”
Anthony remained standing.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
I saw the name.
DR. VANE.
And suddenly every person in the room understood exactly how close we were to the truth.
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