Chapter 6 - THE WIFE WHO CAME BACK
Wren did not ask Enzo why he had failed to mention a wife.
She waited exactly seven seconds.
Then she asked.
“You have a wife?”
Gabe slowly lowered his coffee.
Luca looked like he wanted to leave the country.
Enzo stayed focused on the laptop screen.
“Legally.”
Wren laughed once.
“Oh, good. I was worried there might be an uncomplicated answer.”
“It was a contract.”
“A marriage contract?”
“Yes.”
“Those are still marriages.”
“Not in any way that matters.”
She folded her arms.
“You know, men always say that right before the woman appears in a red dress.”
Enzo looked up.
“She lives in Switzerland.”
“Of course she does.”
“She has for three years.”
“Still married.”
“Divorce proceedings began before I was shot.”
“Still married.”
“Wren.”
“Still. Married.”
Gabe raised a hand.
“I’m enjoying this part.”
“Eat your toast,” Wren snapped.
He obeyed.
Dr. Pierce, who had been studying the copied records and had absolutely no reason to care about the family drama, cleared her throat.
“Before we turn this into daytime television, I’d like to point out that the recording said Mrs. V, not Mrs. Marchetti.”
“Valentina’s maiden name is Bellandi,” Luca said.
Wren turned to him.
“Then why V?”
“Her first name.”
“That is a terrible code name.”
Enzo rubbed his forehead.
“Maria may have misunderstood.”
“Or the woman wanted her to.”
Wren looked back at the screen.
“What is your wife’s full name?”
“Valentina Bellandi Marchetti.”
“The Bellandi meeting on Friday.”
“Yes.”
Wren’s eyes narrowed.
“So you married into the family whose vote determines whether you keep control.”
“It was arranged years ago.”
“How romantic.”
“It was never intended to be.”
Something about how quickly he said it bothered her.
She hated that it bothered her.
She hated even more that she noticed the faint line around his ring finger where a ring had once been.
None now.
Still, the information landed strangely.
Wren reminded herself that she was supposed to be furious with him.
She was.
Mostly.
“What happened with Valentina?”
Enzo leaned back.
“Our families wanted a permanent alliance. We were both twenty-seven. We agreed.”
“You say that like you signed for a mortgage.”
“It felt similar.”
Gabe choked on his coffee.
Wren ignored him.
“And three years ago?”
“She left.”
“Why?”
Enzo’s eyes went flat.
“That is not relevant.”
“Maria’s recording says otherwise.”
“It is not relevant to you.”
Wren felt something sharp under her ribs.
She stepped away from the desk.
“Fine.”
Enzo watched her.
“That sounded angry.”
“I’m not angry.”
“You are.”
“I’m thrilled. I love discovering surprise spouses before lunch.”
“You keep saying spouse like it means something.”
“It legally means something.”
“Why do you care?”
The question came too quickly.
The room went quiet.
Wren felt every eye move toward her.
“I don’t.”
Enzo’s gaze held hers.
“Then stop asking.”
“Gladly.”
She turned to Dr. Pierce.
“When can we get him to imaging?”
Dr. Pierce checked her phone.
“Six.”
“Great.”
Wren walked out before anyone could see her face.
She made it halfway down the corridor before she heard wheels behind her.
“Wren.”
She kept walking.
“Wren.”
“You’re very fast for a man who claims to hate cardio.”
The chair rolled beside her.
“Stop.”
“No.”
He reached for her wrist.
She moved before he touched her.
Both noticed.
His hand dropped.
That hurt him.
Good, she thought.
Then immediately hated herself for thinking it.
“I did not lie about Valentina,” he said.
“You omitted a wife.”
“We have lived separate lives for three years.”
“Not my concern.”
“She filed for divorce.”
“Not my concern.”
“I signed.”
“Still not my concern.”
“The court delayed the final order because of the shooting and disputes over family holdings.”
Wren stopped.
“Why are you explaining this?”
His mouth opened.
No answer came.
That was almost satisfying.
Almost.
She leaned against the wall.
“You don’t owe your employee a romantic history.”
“You are not just my employee.”
The words landed between them.
Enzo seemed surprised he had said them.
Wren’s pulse shifted.
“What am I?”
He looked at her.
For one dangerous second, the house disappeared.
No guns.
No brother.
No secret wife.
No wheelchair.
Just two exhausted people standing too close in a corridor at eight in the morning.
Then Luca’s voice came from behind them.
“Boss.”
Enzo looked away first.
Wren let out a breath.
Luca approached holding a phone.
“We got results on the pill.”
Enzo’s expression hardened.
“What is it?”
“Baclofen. Forty milligrams.”
Wren straightened.
“That’s double a common single high dose, depending on his regimen, and it’s not what was prescribed for that time.”
“Could it make him weaker?” Luca asked.
“Yes. Drowsy. Dizzy. Hypotonic. Depending on what else he’s taking, it could seriously affect function.”
Enzo looked at Wren.
“Enough to hide recovery?”
“Not by itself. But combined with the other medication changes? Enough to complicate every assessment.”
Luca handed over the phone.
“Lab also found residue from a sedative on the tablet surface.”
Wren’s stomach turned.
“What sedative?”
“Diazepam.”
She closed her eyes.
Baclofen and diazepam.
Both could be medically appropriate in spinal cord injury.
Together, at the right dose, under supervision.
But given secretly?
That was not treatment.
That was control.
Enzo’s face became frighteningly calm.
“Get Hale.”
Luca nodded.
“Alive,” Wren said.
Both men looked at her.
She pointed at Enzo.
“He needs answers more than revenge.”
Enzo’s gaze stayed on her.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
She believed him.
That might have been the most dangerous development of the morning.
At five thirty, they prepared to leave for imaging.
The estate became a machine.
Vehicles moved.
Radios clicked.
Routes changed twice.
Wren had never seen paranoia organized so efficiently.
She sat beside Enzo in the rear of an armored van modified for wheelchair access.
Gabe had been placed in a guest room under guard and strict instructions not to leave.
He had complained.
Wren had threatened to break his remaining fingers.
He stayed.
Dr. Pierce rode ahead.
Luca sat in front.
For the first ten minutes, Enzo said nothing.
Wren checked his pulse.
He pulled his wrist away.
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve said that before.”
“I am not taking mystery medication now.”
“Stress still exists.”
“I’ve heard.”
She clipped the pulse oximeter to his finger anyway.
He tolerated it.
Outside, suburbs passed in gray streaks.
“You never answered,” he said.
Wren looked up.
“Answered what?”
“What you are.”
She stared at him.
“You brought this up now?”
“You asked.”
“An hour ago.”
“I was interrupted.”
“By attempted medical poisoning.”
“A recurring inconvenience.”
Despite herself, she laughed.
His eyes softened.
That made her stop.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Lie.”
“Your face changed.”
“How?”
“You looked normal.”
He frowned.
“I look normal.”
“No.”
“What do I look like?”
“Like a man who has tax attorneys for feelings.”
He actually smiled.
This time she saw the whole thing.
It transformed him.
Not into someone safe.
Enzo Marchetti would probably never be safe.
But into someone younger.
A man who might once have laughed easily before people learned to fear the sound of his name.
Wren looked away too late.
He noticed.
“What?”
“Stop saying that.”
“You keep looking at me strangely.”
“You keep doing strange things.”
“Like smiling?”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll try to control it.”
“Please do.”
They were quiet again.
Then Enzo said, “You are the first person in eight months who has touched my legs without looking sorry.”
Wren’s throat tightened.
“That’s not an answer to what I am.”
“It is to me.”
She looked at him.
His voice lowered.
“You treat what is there. Not what is missing.”
The van seemed suddenly smaller.
Wren forced herself to look at the monitor.
“Your heart rate is elevated.”
“So is yours.”
“You don’t have a monitor on me.”
“I don’t need one.”
She glared.
He looked pleased with himself.
Then the van braked hard.
Wren slammed one hand against the wall.
Luca twisted from the front.
“Stay down.”
A black sedan had stopped across the road.
Two security vehicles moved around them.
Wren’s heart hammered.
Enzo reached beneath his jacket.
She caught his wrist.
“No.”
“I am not defenseless.”
“You are in my care.”
“Your care has become very authoritarian.”
“Welcome to nursing.”
The radio crackled.
Then Luca relaxed slightly.
“False alarm. Car lost a tire.”
Wren exhaled.
Enzo did not.
His eyes were on the sedan.
On its rear window.
A woman sat inside.
Even through tinted glass, Wren could see a pale face and dark hair.
The woman lifted one hand.
A small wave.
Enzo went still.
“No.”
Wren looked at him.
“What?”
The rear door of the sedan opened.
A woman stepped out in a red coat.
Wren almost laughed from pure disbelief.
“Of course.”
Enzo’s face had gone white.
Valentina Bellandi Marchetti crossed the road between armed men like she had been invited.
She was beautiful in the kind of way that made rooms seem badly decorated around her. Tall. Dark hair pinned low. Red wool coat over cream trousers. No visible weapon. No visible fear.
Luca swore.
“Who cleared her?”
“No one.”
Valentina stopped ten feet from the van.
“Enzo.”
He did not answer.
Wren looked between them.
Three years apart suddenly seemed like a very small fact.
Valentina’s eyes moved to Wren.
“And you must be the nurse.”
“Caregiver.”
Valentina smiled.
“I heard.”
Of course she had.
Wren stepped out first.
Luca hissed her name.
She ignored him.
Valentina examined her boots, old jacket, messy hair.
Not cruelly.
Almost curiously.
“You’re different from the others.”
“I get that a lot.”
“I imagine you do.”
Enzo rolled down the ramp behind her.
“What are you doing here?”
Valentina looked at him.
The smile disappeared.
“I came to stop you from going to that imaging center.”
Wren’s stomach tightened.
“Why?”
Valentina’s gaze moved to her.
“Because Dr. Hale is waiting there.”
Enzo’s eyes went cold.
Luca already had his phone out.
Valentina continued.
“And because if you enter that building, you will not leave it alive.”
The road went silent.
Wren stepped closer.
“How do you know?”
Valentina reached slowly into her coat.
Three guns aimed at her.
She rolled her eyes.
“Relax.”
She pulled out a phone and held it toward Enzo.
On the screen was a photograph taken that morning.
Dr. Hale.
Matteo.
And Vincent Russo.
All three standing in a private room at the imaging center.
Wren looked at Enzo.
“Cancel.”
He didn’t argue.
That frightened her more than anything.
Luca barked orders.
Vehicles began turning around.
Valentina looked toward Wren.
“You found the medication, didn’t you?”
Wren’s skin prickled.
“How do you know about it?”
“Because Maria told me.”
Enzo’s expression sharpened.
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
“You spoke to Maria?”
“Yes.”
“You knew she was alive?”
Valentina’s eyes filled with something that looked almost like grief.
“She was alive then.”
“Where is she now?”
“I don’t know.”
Enzo rolled closer.
“You had information that someone was manipulating my care and you stayed in Switzerland?”
“I stayed alive.”
His face closed.
Valentina’s voice hardened.
“You think you were the only target?”
“Explain.”
“I will. Somewhere not on an open road.”
They returned to the estate with Valentina’s sedan in the middle of the convoy.
No one spoke much.
Wren rode beside Enzo.
He stared out the window.
At the estate gates, security stopped them.
One of the guards ran toward Luca’s vehicle.
Luca got out.
There was an argument.
Then he came to the van.
His face was wrong.
“What?” Enzo asked.
Luca looked at Wren before answering.
“Matteo’s gone.”
Enzo’s hands tightened on the wheels.
“How?”
“Two guards are unconscious. Security feeds were looped.”
“Drugs?”
“Looks like it.”
Valentina closed her eyes.
“Then he knows.”
“Knows what?” Wren asked.
Valentina looked at Enzo.
“That Maria kept the original files.”
“And?”
“And she hid them somewhere only Enzo would eventually look.”
Enzo frowned.
“Where?”
Valentina’s eyes moved to his wheelchair.
No one spoke.
Wren looked down.
At the polished frame.
The custom seat.
The chair that had arrived two weeks after Enzo left the hospital.
The chair Matteo had ordered.
Luca swore.
Wren crouched.
“Get him out.”
Enzo’s gaze sharpened.
“What?”
“Now.”
They transferred him onto the front seat of the van.
Wren flipped the wheelchair.
Beneath the cushion was nothing.
Beneath the frame, nothing.
Then she noticed one screw at the rear support did not match the others.
Newer.
She borrowed Luca’s knife, turned the screw, and opened a narrow metal plate.
A tiny flash drive dropped into her palm.
Everyone stared.
Wren looked up at Enzo.
“Maria hid it in the chair.”
Valentina whispered, “Smart girl.”
Luca brought a laptop.
They opened the drive inside the security room.
There were financial records.
Audio recordings.
Photographs.
And a video.
The video showed a hospital corridor at St. Agnes.
Eight months earlier.
Time stamp: 2:13 a.m.
Matteo stood beside Dr. Hale.
A third person entered the frame.
Not Valentina.
A woman in blue surgical scrubs.
Wren leaned toward the screen.
Something about the woman’s walk.
Her posture.
Her face when she turned.
Wren stopped breathing.
“No.”
Enzo looked at her.
“You know her?”
Wren could not answer.
The woman on the video had been her supervisor at St. Agnes.
The woman who had suspended her after the overdose case.
The woman whose signature sat beneath Enzo’s on Wren’s termination papers.
Nursing Director Elaine Voss.
Mrs. V.
Wren felt the room spin.
Valentina whispered, “There she is.”
Enzo’s eyes moved slowly to Wren.
Elaine Voss.
The woman who had ended Wren’s career.
The woman helping control Enzo’s recovery.
Two lives ruined by the same hand.
Wren stared at the screen.
Then another file opened automatically.
A list of names.
Patients.
Employees.
Payments.
At the very bottom was one entry highlighted in red.
WREN HART — RECRUIT OR REMOVE.
The date beside it was seven months old.
Seven months before Wren ever saw the job posting.
Seven months before she thought Enzo Marchetti knew she existed.
Her knees weakened.
Enzo’s voice came low behind her.
“Wren.”
She looked at him.
May you like
For the first time, fear had reached all the way into her bones.
“They were watching me before you were.”
