Chapter 4: The Man Who Came Back From the Dead
Rico Moretti had buried Elena’s brother six years before.
At least, that was what every document, every newspaper article, and every person he trusted had told him.
The name on the security report should have been impossible.
Matteo Vance.
The man standing in the grainy footage outside Il Destino was supposed to be dead.
Rico watched the video three times.
Then a fourth.
The security room was dark except for the glow of the monitor.
Dante stood behind him, silent.
Clara stood near the doorway with Leo beside her, holding her hand.
Rico noticed.
He noticed everything now.
The way Leo leaned toward her when he was nervous.
The way his son looked at Clara before making a decision.
The way the child who once pushed everyone away had started searching for one person in every room.
“Run it again,” Rico said.
Dante pressed play.
The footage showed a man wearing a dark coat approaching the restaurant entrance.
His face was partially hidden.
But when he looked toward the camera, there was no mistake.
Same sharp jaw.
Same scar above his eyebrow.
Same eyes Rico remembered from years ago.
Matteo Vance.
Clara’s brother.
No.
Her father’s son.
Rico turned slowly.
“Clara.””
She looked up.
“What?””
“Your last name.””
Her expression tightened.
“Vance.””
“Your parents?””
“My father died when I was twelve.””
“And your mother?””
“Four years ago.””
Rico stared at her.
“Do you know who Matteo Vance was?””
The color drained from her face.
“No.””
The answer came too quickly.
Rico noticed.
“So you’ve heard the name.””
Clara looked away.
“I’ve heard a lot of names in my life.””
“Not that one.””
The room became tense.
Leo sensed it.
He stepped closer to Clara.
Rico saw the movement.
His anger softened slightly.
Not because he trusted Clara.
Because he trusted his son.
And his son trusted her.
“Clara,” Rico said quietly, “your family is connected to mine.””
She shook her head.
“That’s impossible.””
“Is it?””
“Yes.””
“Then why did my dead brother-in-law leave a message saying your name?””
Clara had no answer.
Dante moved closer.
“Boss, there’s more.””
Rico looked at him.
“What?””
“We searched the old case files.””
Dante hesitated.
“That’s when we found something strange.””
“What?””
“Matteo Vance was never officially confirmed dead.””
Rico froze.
“What did you say?””
“The accident report was incomplete. His car was found. Blood was found. But no body.””
Clara whispered:
“My family told me he died.””
Dante looked at her.
“Someone told you.””
The sentence hung in the air.
Rico picked up his phone.
“Find everything on Matteo Vance.””
Dante nodded.
“And Clara?””
Rico looked at her.
That was the problem.
He didn’t know what she was.
A threat?
A victim?
A piece of a puzzle Elena had left behind?
Or the only person his son had trusted since losing his mother.
“Take her home,” Rico said.
Clara immediately frowned.
“I don’t need an escort.””
“You do now.””
“I’m not one of your employees.””
“No.””
His voice lowered.
“That’s why this is not a request.””
She stared at him.
“You’re impossible.””
“I’ve been called worse.””
Leo suddenly spoke.
“No.””
Everyone looked down.
The little boy was shaking his head.
“No go.””
Clara crouched beside him.
“Leo—”
“No.””
He held onto her sleeve.
Rico watched.
His son had been afraid of everything.
Doors.
Cars.
Strangers.
Memories.
But not Clara.
Never Clara.
“Leo,” Rico said softly, “Clara needs to go home.””
The boy looked at him.
Then at Clara.
His eyes filled.
And something inside Rico cracked.
Because he recognized that look.
It was the same look Elena had given him when she knew something was wrong but didn’t know how to explain it.
“Okay,” Clara whispered.
Leo immediately looked relieved.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.””
“Tomorrow?””
The word came from Rico.
Clara stood.
“If I’m not fired.””
Rico looked at her for a long moment.
“You’re not fired.””
A strange silence followed.
Because everyone in that room knew.
Rico Moretti did not say things he didn’t mean.
Clara left with Dante.
Rico remained behind with Leo.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then Leo looked up.
“Daddy?””
“Yes?””
“Clara knows Mommy.””
Rico’s chest tightened.
“No, buddy.””
Leo shook his head.
“Yes.””
“Why do you think that?””
The boy pointed toward the photograph on Rico’s desk.
The one of Elena.
Then he pointed toward Clara’s empty chair.
“She smells like Mommy.””
Rico went completely still.
Children remembered things adults forgot.
A perfume.
A song.
A feeling.
A moment.
But before he could ask another question, his phone rang.
Unknown number.
Again.
Rico answered immediately.
“Who are you?””
A woman’s voice responded.
Not distorted this time.
Not hidden.
A voice he knew.
A voice he had not heard in six months.
“Rico.””
His entire body froze.
The phone nearly slipped from his hand.
“Who is this?””
A pause.
Then:
“You still sound angry when you’re scared.””
Rico stopped breathing.
Because only one person had ever said that.
“Elena?””
Leo looked up.
Rico gripped the phone.
“Where are you?””
The voice became quieter.
“Too late.””
“What does that mean?””
“You were never supposed to find Clara.””
Rico’s eyes moved toward the door where Clara had disappeared.
“Why?””
A broken breath came through the phone.
Then Elena whispered:
May you like
“Because Matteo wasn’t the person I was hiding Leo from.””
The call ended.
