Chapter 5: The Woman Who Never Died
I stared at the photograph until the edges blurred.
My mother.
Standing beside Vincent.
Seven years after the accident that supposedly killed her.
"That's impossible.""
Marcus pulled the chair closer.
"I understand.""
"No, you don't.""
My voice trembled.
"I identified her body. I attended her funeral. I watched them bury her.""
Marcus remained silent.
I picked up the photograph.
"Where did you get this?""
"It was among several documents recently recovered from an abandoned storage unit.""
"Who recovered them?""
"An investigator working on an old Moretti family case.""
I looked at him.
"Why would someone investigate my mother?""
He took a breath.
"Because her accident may have been connected to the disappearance of Richard Moretti.""
My hands began shaking.
I remembered the day my mother died.
It had been raining.
I had been at work when the police called.
They told me there had been a collision on Lake Shore Drive.
A truck had struck her vehicle.
The car had caught fire.
The body was badly damaged.
I had collapsed in the police station.
Vincent had arrived twenty minutes later.
He held me while I cried.
He arranged the funeral.
He paid for everything.
He even told me that I would never have to worry about anything again.
And two years later, he proposed.
I had believed he was the man who saved me from losing everything.
Now I wondered whether he had been the reason I lost it.
"Marcus.""
"Yes?""
"Find out where my mother is.""
He looked uncomfortable.
"We don't know whether she's alive.""
"But the photograph—"
"It proves she was alive on the date shown. It doesn't establish what happened afterward.""
I closed my eyes.
"Then find someone who knows.""
He nodded.
"I'll see what I can do.""
That evening, Dr. Hayes returned with another physician.
They reviewed my latest results and adjusted my treatment.
"Your oxygen levels are improving," she explained.
"But we need to continue monitoring your lungs.""
I nodded.
"Doctor, if someone has been giving me something harmful, can you prove it?""
"We can preserve samples and request specialized toxicology testing. It may take time.""
"Please do everything possible.""
She touched my shoulder.
"We will.""
After she left, I called the number that had sent the photograph.
A man answered.
"You've seen it.""
"Who are you?""
"My name is Thomas Reed.""
"How do you know my mother?""
"I worked for Richard Moretti.""
My stomach tightened.
"Was my mother involved with him?""
A long pause.
"Your mother was the only person Richard ever trusted completely.""
I swallowed.
"Then why did she disappear?""
"Because she discovered what Vincent was planning.""
"What was he planning?""
Thomas lowered his voice.
"To take control of the Moretti empire.""
I looked toward the closed door.
"Vincent already controls it.""
"Now he does. But seven years ago, Richard was still alive and powerful. Vincent needed a way to remove him without making the family suspicious.""
"And my mother?""
"She found evidence of a financial scheme. She threatened to expose it.""
I gripped the phone.
"What happened?""
"She was supposed to meet Richard the night of the accident. Instead, she disappeared.""
"Are you telling me Vincent arranged her death?""
"I'm telling you the police report doesn't tell the whole story.""
My breathing quickened.
"Where is she?""
Thomas hesitated.
"Richard knows.""
"Then I want to speak to him.""
"Not yet.""
"Why?""
"Because Vincent has people watching the hospital.""
I looked at the security camera near the ceiling.
"How do you know?""
"Because I used to be one of them.""
The call ended.
I lowered my phone.
I felt trapped inside a life that suddenly belonged to strangers.
My husband had secrets.
His father had faked his death.
My mother might still be alive.
And someone had been making me sick.
I needed answers.
But first, I needed to survive.
At 10:15 p.m., Marcus returned.
He was carrying a small envelope.
"Mrs. Moretti, we found Margaret.""
My heart jumped.
"Where?""
"She's safe. A friend of hers contacted us.""
"Can I speak to her?""
He nodded.
"She's on a secure line.""
He handed me the phone.
A frightened voice whispered through the speaker.
"Mrs. Moretti?""
"Margaret! Are you all right?""
"I'm sorry, ma'am.""
"Don't apologize. Just tell me what happened.""
"I was packing a bag when two men came to the house.""
My blood turned cold.
"Vincent's men?""
"I don't know. They said Mr. Moretti wanted to speak to me.""
"Did you go?""
"No. I hid in the laundry room until they left.""
I closed my eyes.
"Margaret, I need you to tell me about the tea.""
She began crying.
"I didn't know what was inside it.""
"Who gave it to you?""
"Mr. Vincent.""
"Did he tell you what it was?""
"He said it was a special herbal mixture to help you sleep.""
I gripped the phone.
"How long?""
"Almost eight months.""
Eight months.
My cough had begun around that time.
"Did you notice anything strange?""
She hesitated.
"Yes.""
"What?""
"Every time I asked why the packets didn't have labels, Mr. Vincent told me they came from a private medical supplier.""
I felt sick.
"Did Sophia know?""
Another silence.
Then Margaret whispered:
"Miss Reynolds was the one who brought the first box.""
I closed my eyes.
"Thank you, Margaret.""
"Mrs. Moretti, there's something else.""
"What?""
"Last week, I found a letter in the study. It had your name on it.""
"What letter?""
"It was from Richard Moretti.""
I sat completely still.
"What did it say?""
"I only saw the first line before Mr. Vincent came in.""
"Margaret, please.""
She began to cry again.
"It said, 'My granddaughter deserves to know what her husband has done.''"
I couldn't speak.
Granddaughter?
I looked at Marcus.
He was watching me carefully.
"Margaret, why would Richard call me his granddaughter?""
"I don't know, ma'am.""
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
For several minutes, I didn't move.
Then I remembered something my mother used to say when I was a child.
Whenever I asked why we never visited her family, she would smile sadly.
"Some families have too many secrets, sweetheart. It's better to build your own.""
I had always thought she meant distant relatives.
Now I wondered whether she had been hiding an entire family from me.
At 11:03 p.m., Marcus received a call.
He listened without speaking.
Then his expression changed.
"What do you mean he's here?""
He looked at me.
"Who?""
Marcus covered the phone.
"Your husband's father.""
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"Richard?""
He nodded.
"He's outside the hospital.""
I pushed the blanket away.
"Bring him in.""
Marcus hesitated.
"Mrs. Moretti—"
"Please.""
He studied my face.
Then he spoke into the phone.
"Bring him through the west entrance. No one else.""
Twenty minutes later, the door opened.
An elderly man entered.
He wore a dark overcoat and carried a wooden cane.
His silver hair was neatly combed.
His eyes were unmistakable.
I had seen them in hundreds of family photographs.
Richard Moretti.
The man I had mourned seven years earlier.
He stopped beside my bed.
For a long moment, he simply looked at me.
Then his eyes filled with tears.
"Claire.""
I couldn't move.
He reached for my hand.
"I am so sorry.""
I pulled away.
"Don't.""
He lowered his head.
"Your mother asked me to protect you.""
I stared at him.
"Where is she?""
Richard's lips trembled.
"Alive.""
My heart stopped.
"Where?""
He glanced toward Marcus.
Then he looked back at me.
"Before I tell you, there's something you need to understand.""
I waited.
"Your mother wasn't just my son's former business partner's daughter.""
He took a shaky breath.
"She was my daughter.""
The room became silent.
I stared at him.
"That's impossible.""
Richard shook his head.
"No, sweetheart. It's the truth.""
I felt as though the floor had disappeared beneath me.
He continued.
"Your mother was born from a relationship I kept hidden for decades. When I discovered Vincent had begun investigating her, I helped her disappear.""
"Why?""
"Because Vincent believed she was entitled to a portion of the family inheritance.""
I swallowed.
"And me?""
Richard looked directly into my eyes.
"You are the only legitimate heir to the original Moretti family trust.""
I stared at him.
My husband had married me.
Not simply because he wanted a wife.
Not because he loved me.
But because I was connected to the fortune he had spent his entire life trying to control.
Richard squeezed his cane.
"Vincent didn't marry you by accident, Claire.""
I whispered, "Then why did he?""
Richard's next words shattered what remained of my marriage.
"Because the trust becomes yours alone if I die, and he needed you to sign away your rights before that happened.""
He reached inside his coat and produced a folded document.
It bore my mother's handwriting.
"Your mother left this for you.""
I unfolded it.
May you like
The first sentence made my vision blur.
*My darling Claire, if you are reading this, Vincent has finally begun the plan I spent seven years trying to stop.*
