Chapter 4: The Secret Behind the Coffin
For several seconds, I couldn't hear anything except the steady beeping of the heart monitor.
Vincent stood beside my hospital bed, his phone still in his hand.
I stared at him.
"Your father?""
He didn't answer.
"Vincent, I watched you bury him.""
His jaw tightened.
"You're confused.""
"Don't you dare.""
My voice cracked, but I forced myself to sit upright.
"I attended his funeral. I stood beside you while you lowered his coffin. I held your hand while you cried.""
Vincent glanced at Dr. Hayes.
"Doctor, I think my wife needs some rest.""
Dr. Hayes folded her arms.
"Your wife has asked you a question.""
He turned back toward me.
"Richard is alive. That's all you need to know.""
"Why did you tell everyone he was dead?""
"Because he needed to disappear.""
"From whom?""
Vincent didn't answer.
I looked at the two bodyguards standing outside the doorway.
"Was his funeral fake?""
He exhaled.
"Claire, there are things about my family you were never supposed to understand.""
I laughed bitterly.
"Five years of marriage, and apparently I wasn't even allowed to understand who was alive in my own family.""
His expression hardened.
"Enough.""
"No. Not anymore.""
I pointed toward the document on my bedside table.
"You prepared legal authorization three days before I collapsed. Your father is supposedly dead. Sophia wears my missing ring. And someone has been putting something in my tea.""
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
"Who told you that?""
I didn't answer.
He stepped closer.
"Was it Margaret?""
My stomach tightened.
He knew.
Of course he knew.
"Why would you ask that?""
"Because Margaret has a habit of involving herself in matters she doesn't understand.""
I stared at him.
"She's frightened of you.""
"Everyone in this family has something to be frightened of.""
He reached for my hand.
I pulled away.
For a moment, his expression changed.
Not anger.
Something almost wounded.
Then he covered it.
"Come home when the doctors discharge you. We'll discuss everything privately.""
"I don't want to come home.""
His eyes went cold.
"That's not your decision.""
Dr. Hayes stepped between us.
"Mr. Moretti, your wife needs rest. Please leave.""
Vincent looked at her.
"I'll remember this.""
"That's your privilege.""
He adjusted his cufflinks and walked toward the door.
But before leaving, he turned around.
"Claire, one piece of advice.""
I looked at him.
"Stop believing strangers who send you anonymous messages. People who get involved in Moretti family affairs tend to disappear.""
The door closed.
I stared at the empty doorway.
Dr. Hayes waited until his footsteps faded.
Then she spoke quietly.
"Do you have somewhere safe to go?""
I shook my head.
"Not really.""
She pulled her chair closer.
"Then we'll arrange protection while you're here.""
I looked at her.
"Doctor, do you think my husband is trying to kill me?""
She didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she looked at the monitor.
"I think someone has been exposing you to something that may be damaging your lungs. And I think we need to find out who.""
For the first time, I felt that someone was taking my fear seriously.
An hour later, a hospital security officer arrived.
His name was Marcus Bell.
He was in his late forties, with a broad build and a small scar running along his left eyebrow.
"Mrs. Moretti?""
"Yes.""
"Dr. Hayes asked me to review your security arrangements.""
He glanced at the door.
"Has anyone threatened you?""
I hesitated.
Then I told him about the messages.
His expression became serious.
"Can I see them?""
I handed him my phone.
He read the messages carefully, then returned it.
"Don't delete anything. And don't respond to unknown numbers without discussing it with us.""
"Can you find out who sent them?""
"Possibly. But I can't promise.""
He paused.
"There's something else you should know.""
I waited.
"Someone accessed your medical file this morning.""
My fingers tightened around the blanket.
"Vincent?""
"The access log shows an administrator account. We're investigating.""
"Can you stop them?""
"We've restricted external access.""
He started toward the door.
"One more thing, Mrs. Moretti. If anyone asks you to sign anything, don't do it until your attorney reviews it.""
I looked up.
"My attorney?""
Marcus nodded.
"Would you like us to contact one?""
I almost said no.
Then I remembered the legal document Vincent had brought.
"Yes.""
That afternoon, Dr. Hayes arranged for a sample of the tea to be collected from my house.
I gave her Margaret's number and asked her to contact the housekeeper through a secure hospital line.
Margaret didn't answer.
Not once.
At 6:42 p.m., my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
*I saw your husband's father. He is staying at the old Moretti estate.*
I sat upright.
Another message appeared.
*He wants to meet you. Alone.*
I typed quickly.
Who are you?
The response came immediately.
*Someone who was there the night Richard Moretti was supposed to die.*
My blood ran cold.
Before I could reply, the hospital room door opened.
Marcus entered.
"Mrs. Moretti, we have a problem.""
"What happened?""
He closed the door behind him.
"Your housekeeper has disappeared.""
I gripped the phone.
"Margaret?""
He nodded.
"Her apartment is empty. Her car is still outside the mansion, and her phone has been switched off.""
I stared at him.
Then another message appeared.
*If you want to know why your husband married you, ask Richard what happened to your mother.*
I stopped breathing.
My mother?
My mother had died when I was twenty-two.
A car accident.
At least, that was what I had always been told.
I looked at Marcus.
"Can you get me out of here?""
He frowned.
"Where do you want to go?""
I showed him the message.
He read it twice.
Then he looked at me with an expression I couldn't understand.
"Mrs. Moretti, I think you should know something.""
"What?""
He lowered his voice.
"Your mother's accident was investigated by the Chicago Police Department seven years ago.""
I swallowed.
"Yes. I know.""
"No, ma'am.""
He placed a photograph on my bedside table.
It showed a black SUV parked outside a hospital.
The date was printed beneath it.
Seven years earlier.
The driver was unmistakable.
Vincent Moretti.
And beside him, standing in the rain, was a woman wearing my mother's coat.
I looked up at Marcus.
"Who is that woman?""
He hesitated.
May you like
Then he said:
"Your mother.""
