Chapter 3 - MERCY HOSPITAL
The courthouse could wait.
For the first time in seven years, I had a question more important than Vincent.
Who was the little girl?
Mara tried to stop me from investigating.
"You have a hearing in less than twelve hours."
"I know."
"Then let me investigate."
"I've spent years trusting Vincent to tell me the truth."
She understood immediately.
"And you don't want to make that mistake again."
"No."
Daniel drove us to Mercy Hospital while Emma stayed with a friend of his.
The hospital looked exactly like I remembered it.
White walls.
Cold lights.
People moving quickly through corridors while pretending not to be afraid.
I had sat in that same emergency department only hours earlier with Emma burning against my chest.
Now I was back because of a photograph taken almost a year before Sophia's supposed return.
Mara had called in a favor with a hospital administrator.
We were given limited access to old visitor records.
Not medical files.
Not private information.
Just enough to confirm whether Vincent had been there.
He had.
Eleven months before Sophia returned.
The record showed Vincent Moretti had visited a patient under the name Sophia Reynolds.
My stomach twisted.
"Who was the patient?" I asked.
The administrator shook his head.
"I can't disclose that."
"Was it a child?"
He looked at me.
Then at Mara.
"I shouldn't say."
"Please."
He hesitated.
"A pediatric patient was admitted that night."
My pulse jumped.
"Was the child connected to Sophia?"
"I can't tell you."
"But Vincent was there."
"Yes."
"Was Sophia the patient's mother?"
Another pause.
"No."
That surprised me.
"Then who was she?"
"I don't know."
The administrator left.
I looked at Mara.
"A child."
She nodded.
"Let's find out who."
We went to the hospital's public records office.
After two hours of searching old news archives and publicly available court documents, we found a name.
Lily Harper.
Six years old at the time.
Now twelve.
She had been admitted after witnessing a fatal apartment fire.
Her mother had died.
Her father was missing.
And the only adult listed as an emergency contact was Gabriel Moretti.
I stared at the screen.
"Gabriel?"
Mara leaned closer.
"That's impossible."
"Why?"
"Because the records say the child was admitted six years ago."
My skin prickled.
"Six years ago."
"The same year Gabriel supposedly died."
We found an old article.
A warehouse fire.
Three victims.
One unidentified body.
Gabriel Moretti was presumed dead after investigators found his vehicle near the scene.
But there was a problem.
The body had never been positively identified.
I looked at Mara.
"Vincent lied."
"Possibly."
"Not possibly."
I pointed at the page.
"He told everyone Gabriel died."
"And apparently someone continued using Gabriel's name."
"To protect a little girl."
Mara looked troubled.
"Claire, don't jump ahead."
But I already had.
The moon necklace.
Sophia.
Mercy Hospital.
Gabriel.
A child.
None of it was random.
Daniel called.
"Where are you?"
"Mercy."
Silence.
"What happened?"
I told him.
He swore.
Then he said, "Claire, you need to leave."
"Why?"
"I just found something."
"What?"
"Your house was searched."
My blood ran cold.
"By who?"
"I don't know."
"Was anything taken?"
"Your old photo albums."
I couldn't breathe.
"Only those?"
"No."
"What else?"
"The box you kept from Emma's first birthday."
I knew exactly what was inside.
A tiny silver bracelet.
The moon charm.
I looked at Mara.
"Someone took Emma's bracelet."
She went still.
"Why would anyone want that?"
"I don't know."
Daniel's voice sharpened.
"That's why you need to get back here."
We left the hospital.
On the way back, Mara received a call.
She answered.
"Yes?"
Her face changed.
"What?"
She listened.
"Send it to me."
She hung up.
"What?"
"Vincent's attorneys just submitted new evidence."
"Against me?"
"Not exactly."
She looked at me.
"They submitted a security report from the night you left."
"What does it say?"
"That someone entered the Moretti estate after you left."
My heart pounded.
"Who?"
"They don't know."
"Then why does that matter?"
"Because the person went directly to Vincent's private office."
"Was anything stolen?"
Mara nodded.
"One file."
"What file?"
She looked at the report.
"Gabriel Moretti."
I stared out the window.
Everything was beginning to connect.
Someone had taken Emma's bracelet.
Someone had searched Vincent's office.
Someone had warned me not to ask about Gabriel.
And Vincent had suddenly tried to freeze Emma's trust.
But why?
My phone rang.
Vincent.
I didn't answer.
He called again.
Then again.
Finally, a voicemail appeared.
I listened.
His voice was different.
Not angry.
Not commanding.
Afraid.
"Claire, please listen to me."
A pause.
"I know what you're thinking."
Another pause.
"But Sophia is not what you think she is."
I almost laughed.
Of course.
The same sentence men used when they wanted women to doubt their own eyes.
Then Vincent said something I had never heard from him before.
"I never cheated on you."
I froze.
The next sentence made my heart stop.
"Everything I did for Sophia was because Gabriel asked me to."
The voicemail ended.
I replayed it.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Mara stared at me.
"Did he say Gabriel?"
"Yes."
"Then call him."
I looked at the phone.
"No."
"Claire."
"If Vincent wants me to know the truth, he can tell me in court."
When we reached Daniel's apartment, he was waiting at the door.
His face was pale.
"What happened?" I asked.
He held up an envelope.
"This was under the door."
My name was written across the front.
Inside was a single photograph.
A man stood outside Mercy Hospital.
His face was partially hidden by a baseball cap.
But I recognized the coat.
Vincent had worn it for years.
Beside him stood Sophia.
And between them was a little girl.
Lily Harper.
On the back, someone had written:
THE GIRL SAW GABRIEL SURVIVE.
I looked at Mara.
"Survive what?"
She took the photograph.
Then she turned it over again.
There was another line beneath the first.
HE DIDN'T DIE IN THE FIRE.
My knees almost gave out.
If Gabriel was alive, then six years of lies were about to collapse.
And if Sophia knew where he was, I finally understood why Vincent had been running every time she called.
But one question remained.
Why had Vincent kept the truth from his wife?
The answer arrived before midnight.
Another message appeared on my phone.
FROM A NUMBER I DIDN'T KNOW.
Because Gabriel asked him to protect you too.
I stared at the words.
Protect me from what?
Before I could type the question, another message appeared.
From Vincent.
Tomorrow, when you see me in court, don't believe everything you hear.
Then one final message.
Especially if Sophia is there.
I read the messages again.
Daniel stood beside me.
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know."
Mara took the phone from my hand and studied the number.
"Don't reply."
"I wasn't going to."
"Good."
I walked into the guest room and closed the door.
Emma was sleeping peacefully.
I sat beside her.
For years, I had believed my biggest mistake was marrying a dangerous man.
Now I wondered if my real mistake had been believing danger always looked like violence.
Sometimes danger looked like a beautiful woman crying on the phone.
Sometimes it looked like a husband saying, "Trust me."
Sometimes it looked like a secret kept for your protection.
I touched Emma's hair.
"Mommy?"
Her eyes opened.
"Hi, baby."
She reached for me.
I pulled her into my arms.
"Are we going to court tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"Is Daddy going to be there?"
"Yes."
She thought for a moment.
"Can I tell him something?"
"Of course."
She whispered into my ear.
"Daddy promised me the lady with the moon would never hurt us."
I pulled back.
"What did you say?"
"The lady with the moon."
"Who told you that?"
"Daddy."
"When?"
Emma frowned.
"At the hotel."
"What hotel?"
She pointed toward the hallway.
"The one with the big glass windows."
My heart started racing.
Vincent owned several.
"Did Sophia come there?"
Emma nodded.
"She cried."
"What did she say?"
Emma looked frightened.
"She said Uncle Gabriel was coming home."
I stared at my daughter.
A child could not understand what that meant.
But I could.
If Gabriel was alive, Sophia knew.
Vincent knew.
And somehow, Emma had been brought close enough to the secret that she had heard it herself.
I hugged her tighter.
"Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"Are we still going to court?"
I kissed her forehead.
"Yes."
"Good."
"Why?"
"Because Daddy said secrets are scary."
She closed her eyes.
"And I don't like scary things."
Neither did I.
But tomorrow, for the first time, I was going to walk into a courtroom carrying every secret Vincent had spent six years hiding.
And I had no idea which one would destroy us first.
I had spent seven years protecting my marriage.
May you like
Tomorrow, I would start protecting my daughter from it.
And from the secrets hiding inside Vincent's name. Permanently.
