Chapter 6 - THE PRICE OF SILENCE
Vittoria's first mistake was looking at Sofia's notebook instead of her brother.
Her second was saying, “You were never supposed to find it.”
The words hung in Matteo's study like smoke. Liana watched him turn slowly toward the woman who had helped raise him after their parents died, who had held his newborn son while he stood at Sofia's grave, who had assured him every unexplained problem could be handled if he simply trusted family.
“What did you just say?” he asked.
Vittoria regained her composure. “Sofia was ill with anxiety. She wrote things she didn't mean.”
“She wrote down invoices. Names. Dates.”
“She was convinced everybody was against her.”
“Was everybody against her?”
Vittoria stared at him. “You know me better than this.”
Matteo walked to the door and opened it. Dario stood beyond the threshold, careful not to look inside.
“Please escort my aunt to the east drawing room,” Matteo said. “She may leave the estate whenever she chooses. She won't enter the nursery or my study without my permission.”
Vittoria's expression flashed with disbelief. “You're choosing a stranger over me?”
“I'm choosing my son. And I'm choosing to read my wife's words without you telling me what they mean.”
She went with Dario, but not before looking at Liana in a way that promised the argument was only beginning.
For the next twenty-four hours, Matteo's estate became a place where everybody whispered. Lawyers moved through the halls. Digital specialists copied records. Dr. Shah reviewed Nico's care plan with a nurse chosen through an independent service. Olivia arranged for the foundation's accounts to be examined by a forensic accounting firm.
Liana felt invisible again, but not in the way she'd once wished. Her grief had become tangled with a much larger conflict, and she was afraid of being turned into the easy explanation for everybody else's mistakes.
She found Matteo in the kitchen late that night, heating a bottle while Nico sat strapped safely into a high chair, banging a silicone spoon against the tray.
“I thought you had people to do that,” she said.
“I do.” He tested the temperature. “Turns out I have hands too.”
She laughed. “Revolutionary.”
Nico squealed at her voice.
Matteo's smile faded. “I'm sorry about the article.”
“You didn't write it.”
“I built a world where people think attacking someone close to me is an effective strategy.”
Liana leaned against the counter. “You can't undo every choice you've made in one night.”
“I know.”
“You can decide which choices you make tomorrow.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “You're very good at telling me things I don't want to hear.”
“It's one of my few marketable skills.”
His mouth lifted. Then he noticed the exhaustion on her face and told her she was off duty. She was about to argue when her phone rang.
A man introduced himself as a reporter from a New York financial newspaper. He claimed to have records showing a company controlled by the Varric family had paid St. Agnes millions for medical equipment that had never been delivered. He asked whether Liana would confirm that hospital staff had lied about Rosie's care.
“I'll speak through my attorney,” she said.
“Ms. Graves, isn't it true that your daughter died after a medication error?”
The question struck like a physical blow. “I don't know that. That's one of the things being investigated.”
“But you suspect it.”
“Suspicions are not facts. Please don't turn my daughter into a headline before her records have been reviewed.”
She ended the call.
Matteo heard enough to understand. “They know about the equipment?”
“Apparently.”
“Then there's a leak.”
“Or a reporter doing his job.”
He studied her. “You would defend him?”
“I'm defending the difference between asking a question and pretending the answer is settled.”
It was a distinction Matteo, accustomed to being obeyed, was only beginning to learn.
Two days later, Olivia received the preliminary accounting report. A company called Harborline Clinical Supply had been paid for neonatal monitoring equipment, respiratory devices, and replacement parts. The invoices bore signatures attributed to Sofia's foundation committee. Yet shipping records showed several deliveries were canceled, and the hospital's equipment inventory did not list the missing devices.
Even more troubling, Harborline's registered agent had once represented one of Matteo's family businesses.
“Are you saying Vittoria stole from the foundation?” Matteo demanded.
“I'm saying there are transactions that require explanation,” Olivia replied. “The accounting firm will trace them. We should notify regulators and avoid moving money or destroying documents.”
Matteo paced to the window. “Sofia knew.”
“She suspected.”
“And then she died.”
Olivia met his gaze. “Her death deserves a careful review if new evidence justifies it. But don't build a murder accusation from a suspicious invoice.”
Liana was grateful to her. Reckless certainty would make the truth harder to prove, not easier.
That evening, Vittoria agreed to a meeting with Olivia and Matteo. She arrived with a lawyer of her own, a polished man named Brent Sloane. Liana did not attend. She waited in the nursery while Nico crawled between soft blocks and a plastic drum. Every few minutes the baby looked toward the door, but he no longer screamed when his father left the room.
A week earlier, that small change would have felt miraculous. Now Liana understood it was the result of several ordinary things finally done consistently: relief for his ear pain, a calmer routine, predictable caregivers, and a father who kept coming back when he said he would.
Beatrice visited that afternoon with Dr. Shah's approval and a structured schedule. Nico recognized her almost immediately. He stared, then squealed and reached forward. Beatrice cried when she held him.
“I thought I'd never see him again,” she whispered.
“Doesn't he remember you?” Liana said softly.
Beatrice nodded against his hair. “He remembers.”
For Liana, watching that reunion was unexpectedly comforting. Nico's affection for her was real, but it wasn't an exclusive claim. Babies could love more than one safe adult. His reaching did not mean she had been selected to replace his mother. He had merely found another person who could hold him gently through distress.
Later, Beatrice asked about Rosie. Liana told her more than she had told Matteo: how Rosie loved the sound of running water, how she could steal a pacifier from her mother's hand with astonishing speed, how she hated the blue blanket with ducks but adored the cheaper one with stars.
“She was funny,” Liana said. “People keep telling me she was precious. She was. But she was also funny.”
Beatrice smiled through tears. “Tell me another story.”
So Liana did. For the first time since the funeral, remembering Rosie did not only hurt.
Near midnight, Matteo returned from the meeting with Vittoria. His face was pale, and he carried a document folder as if it might burn his hands.
“She admitted Harborline was connected to a company she controlled,” he said.
Liana sat straighter. “What else?”
“She says the purchases were routed that way to protect patient privacy and simplify payments. Olivia says that explanation doesn't match the paperwork.”
“Did she talk about Sofia?”
“She called her unstable again.”
“Did you believe her?”
“No.”
He sat opposite Liana and rubbed his face. “I wanted to. It would have been easier.”
“Easy isn't always the same as safe.”
“No.”
His phone rang. Detective Hart's name appeared. He answered on speaker after asking Liana's permission.
“Mr. Varric,” Hart said. “We've identified the origin of the threatening photograph sent to Ms. Graves. It came through a messaging account associated with a private investigations firm.”
“Who hired them?”
“We have records indicating the firm was paid by Harborline Clinical Supply. We're still establishing who authorized the specific assignment.”
Matteo gripped the phone. “My sister's company.”
“That's one possible connection. Do not confront anyone. We're pursuing records properly.”
After the call, Liana sat very still.
“Somebody watched me leave the hospital after Rosie died,” she said.
Matteo looked at her with a grief-stricken expression she had not expected from him.
“Yes.”
“And they kept the picture for weeks, waiting until I got too close.”
He leaned forward. “I'll make sure you're protected.”
“I need more than protection,” she said. “I need to know whether my daughter received the care she should have.”
He nodded. “Then that's what we work toward.”
At one in the morning, Olivia forwarded a new document from the accounting review. It was an internal Harborline memo, written three days before Sofia's fatal crash. The subject line read: FOUNDATION OVERSIGHT—EMERGENCY RESPONSE.
The message said only:
Mrs. Varric has requested an outside audit. Pike advises immediate containment. Vale will handle clinical concerns. Family communications should go through V.
Matteo read it, then handed the phone to Liana.
The final initial meant little on its own.
May you like
But paired with every warning Sofia had written, it was enough to convince Matteo that protecting his son would require something he had never done before.
He would have to stop protecting his family name.
