Chapter 9 - The Last Lie
I returned to the estate just before midnight.
Thomas was in the study, reviewing a stack of financial reports. He looked up when I entered and immediately set his pen down.
“You found Daniel,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Is he safe?”
“For now.”
Thomas exhaled, and for one brief moment, the concern on his face looked genuine.
Then I placed the altered clinic record on his desk.
“Why did you access the archive three days before Lily was born?”
His expression changed.
“Where did you get that?”
“Answer the question.”
“I accessed the archive because Grace asked me to verify a document.”
“Which document?”
“The clinic record.”
“The one with her name forged into it?”
Thomas looked down.
“I didn't know the record had been altered.”
“Your credentials were used to request the original ledger. The same credentials were used to authorize the eight-million-dollar transfer.”
He slowly removed his glasses.
“Vincent, you need to understand—”
“No. I've spent twenty years understanding whatever this family told me to understand. My father said Daniel was dead. You let me believe him. Someone stole money from the trust. Vanessa has been playing games with my life. And now my wife's name is on a medical record that shouldn't exist.”
I leaned across the desk.
“Tell me the truth.”
Thomas looked at me for a long time.
Then he said, “I didn't authorize the transfer.”
“Who did?”
“I don't know. The credentials were copied. Someone had access to my office computer.”
“Who?”
He didn't answer.
I stepped back.
“I'm giving you one chance. If you know something about Daniel, about the child, or about my father, this is the moment to tell me.”
Thomas's face tightened.
“Your father made me promise that if Daniel ever returned, I would not reveal the identity of the child.”
“Why?”
“Because he believed the child would be used against the family.”
“Whose child?”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I expect you to understand that I spent years trying to find the truth and never succeeded.”
I wanted to tear the room apart. Instead, I picked up the clinic record.
“Then you'll help me find it.”
Thomas nodded.
“I will.”
“Until I know who altered the documents, you're suspended from all financial authority. You will have no access to the trust, the archive, or my private accounts.”
He accepted the decision without protest.
That frightened me more than an argument would have.
As I left the study, I noticed a small envelope on the side table. It had been pushed beneath a stack of newspapers, as if someone had tried to hide it.
My name was written across the front.
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph of Grace holding newborn Lily in the hospital. Grace looked exhausted, but her expression was full of tenderness. Lily was wrapped in a white blanket, her tiny face turned toward her mother's chest.
On the back, someone had written:
She knows what happened to the first daughter. Ask her before it's too late.
I called Grace's attorney.
“I need to speak to my wife.”
“Mrs. Romano has already made her position clear.”
“This isn't about our marriage. It's about Lily's safety.”
The attorney paused.
“What have you found?”
I told him about the photograph, the altered record, and the child my father had concealed.
He remained silent until I finished.
“Mr. Romano, I will relay your concern. But I want you to understand something. Grace has spent months trying to protect Lily from a situation she believes is bigger than your family. If you turn this into another excuse to pursue her, she will stop speaking to you altogether.”
“I won't.”
“You've said that before.”
“I know.”
This time, I meant it.
The next morning, Grace agreed to a video call.
She appeared on the screen in a small apartment with white walls and a narrow window. She looked tired, but she seemed calmer than she had in the chapel.
“Is Lily all right?” she asked.
“She's stable. The doctor says she's improving.”
Grace's eyes filled with tears. She turned away briefly, pressing her fingers to her mouth.
For a moment, I saw the woman who had spent years dreaming of our daughter.
Then she looked back at me.
“What did you find?”
I showed her the photograph and the altered record.
She studied them without speaking.
“Do you know who changed this?” I asked.
“No.”
“Do you know what happened to the first daughter?”
Grace looked down.
“I know that your father believed someone had taken a child from the family. I know he spent years trying to find her. And I know he was afraid that if the truth became public, it would destroy more than his reputation.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I didn't have proof. And because every time I tried to talk to you about the trust, you treated it like an attack on your authority.”
I accepted the accusation.
“What do you know about Vanessa?”
Grace's face hardened.
“She contacted me six months ago.”
My chest tightened.
“What?”
“She said she wanted to end the affair. She claimed she was afraid of someone who had been using her to get information about your family.”
“Who?”
“She wouldn't tell me. She said that if she spoke openly, she would lose everything.”
I thought of the party, the necklace, the car, the money.
“Did you arrange the birthday party?”
“No. But I knew someone was using Bellweather to move money. I had Thomas investigate the accounts. He found irregularities, but before we could identify the source, the transfer was made.”
“Why did you let me believe you knew nothing?”
“Because I was trying to protect Lily. If you knew I was investigating, you would have sent your men after the person responsible. And if that person was inside your organization, you might have put us all in danger.”
I looked away.
“I should have trusted you.”
“Yes,” she said softly. “You should have.”
The simplicity of the answer hurt more than anger.
“Grace, I want to fix this.”
“You can't fix the past.”
“I know.”
“You can't give me back the night Lily was born. You can't make me forget that I called you thirteen times. And you can't promise me that you'll become a different man overnight.”
“I won't ask you to.”
She studied me.
“Then don't. Show me.”
Before I could answer, someone knocked at her door.
Grace looked toward it, startled.
“Who is that?”
“I don't know.”
She muted the call and walked out of view. I heard the door open, followed by a man's voice.
Then Grace returned, her face pale.
“Vincent, I have to go.”
“Who was it?”
She shook her head.
“I can't explain right now.”
“Are you safe?”
“I think so.”
“Grace—”
She leaned toward the camera.
“Don't send anyone here. Promise me.”
I swallowed.
“I promise.”
She ended the call.
For several seconds, I stared at the blank screen.
Then a message appeared from an unknown number.
It contained a photograph of a woman standing outside Grace's apartment building, holding a small child by the hand.
The woman was wearing a dark coat and sunglasses.
But I recognized her.
Vanessa.
The child was too far away to identify.
Below the photograph was a single sentence.
You have twenty-four hours to return the trust documents, or the truth about your first daughter will become public.
I read the message twice.
Then I called Anthony.
“Find Vanessa. Quietly. No threats, no confrontation. I want to know where she is and who she's meeting.”
“Understood.”
“And Anthony?”
“Yes, Boss?”
“If anyone gets near Grace or Lily, you call me before you do anything.”
There was a pause.
“Even if they're armed?”
“Especially then.”
I ended the call.
For the first time, I wasn't thinking about protecting my reputation or controlling the people around me.
I was thinking about a newborn girl in an incubator, a woman who no longer trusted me, and a missing child whose identity might have been erased before I was old enough to understand what a family was.
Then Anthony called back.
“We found Vanessa's location.”
“Where?”
“She isn't alone. She's at the old Romano residence in Connecticut.”
The house where Daniel had lived before he disappeared.
The house my father had sold years ago.
The house that, according to the records, had been demolished.
Anthony's voice dropped.
“Boss, the property is registered under a company owned by Arthur Vale.”
May you like
The dead lawyer.
And someone had turned on the lights.
