Chapter 6 - THE COURTROOM TRAP
Clare was not arrested.
Dante’s attorneys made certain of that.
But she was ordered to remain in Italy while authorities reviewed Maya’s custody status.
Richard arrived in Rome forty-eight hours later.
Clare saw him through the courthouse window.
Same navy suit.
Same careful haircut.
Same pleasant expression that had convinced neighbors he was the perfect husband.
Her hands shook.
Dante noticed.
“Do you want me inside?”
“Yes.”
One word.
He stayed.
Richard entered the hearing room and smiled at Clare.
“Baby.”
Dante moved before thinking.
Clare caught his wrist.
“No.”
She stood.
Richard’s smile weakened.
“You took our daughter.”
“My daughter.”
“Our.”
“No.”
Clare’s voice steadied.
“You monitored her for Luca Vescari.”
Richard’s face changed for less than a second.
Enough.
Dante saw it.
So did Marco.
Richard recovered.
“I don’t know who that is.”
Clare almost smiled.
Seven years earlier, she would have doubted herself.
Not anymore.
The hearing began.
Richard’s attorney painted Clare as unstable.
He produced photographs of her leaving home suddenly.
Bank records.
Messages.
Even medical notes documenting anxiety after Maya’s birth.
Clare listened as private pain was rearranged into evidence against her.
Then Richard testified.
“I love my wife.”
Clare stared at him.
“I just want her home.”
That sentence once would have destroyed her.
Now it disgusted her.
Dante’s attorney stood.
“Mr. Peterson, did you work at St. Matthew’s Hospital?”
“Yes.”
“Did you alter birth records?”
“No.”
“Did you receive money from Vescari Holdings?”
“No.”
The attorney placed bank documents before him.
Richard’s confidence slipped.
Then Marco entered.
Richard looked toward him.
For the first time, fear appeared.
DNA evidence established that Maya was Elena Bellini’s biological daughter.
The judge ordered a broader investigation.
Richard’s attorney requested adjournment.
Then Richard made his mistake.
As everyone stood, he leaned close to Clare.
“You think Salvatore will protect you forever?”
She looked at him.
Richard whispered:
“Ask him why his wife died.”
Dante heard.
He grabbed Richard by the jacket.
Security rushed forward.
Clare shouted, “Dante!”
He stopped.
Richard smiled.
There it was.
The trap.
Richard wanted violence.
He wanted Dante to become exactly what everyone expected.
Dante released him.
Straightened Richard’s jacket.
Then said quietly:
“You spent years teaching her to fear you.”
Richard smirked.
Dante continued.
“You made one mistake.”
“What?”
“You taught her how cowards behave.”
Richard’s smile vanished.
That evening, Clare found Dante on the villa terrace.
“You almost hit him.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“You asked me not to.”
Simple.
Clare sat beside him.
“Richard said to ask why Alessia died.”
Dante stared into the darkness.
“I know.”
“Is there something you haven’t told me?”
“Yes.”
Her stomach tightened.
Dante removed a folded document.
“The bomb that killed Alessia was placed in my car.”
Clare waited.
“She took it that morning because Leo had a pediatric appointment.”
His voice became rough.
“I was supposed to drive.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“I knew Luca was threatening me.”
“That isn’t the same.”
“I chose not to tell her how serious it had become.”
Clare understood.
Dante had been carrying his own version of her guilt.
If I had known.
If I had left sooner.
If I had protected Maya.
She reached for his hand.
“Guilt is arrogant sometimes.”
He looked at her.
“It convinces us we controlled things we never controlled.”
Dante stared at their joined hands.
“Is that something nurses learn?”
“No.”
A faint smile.
“That’s something survivors learn.”
He leaned closer.
Then stopped.
Clare could feel his breath.
“Why did you stop?”
“Because I want you to choose.”
Her eyes filled unexpectedly.
Nobody had said that to her in years.
So Clare chose.
She kissed him.
Softly.
Once.
Dante did not chase the kiss when she pulled away.
That made her want another.
Then Marco burst through the terrace door.
“Dante.”
They separated.
“What?”
“Richard disappeared.”
Dante stood.
“How?”
“His hotel room is empty.”
Marco held up his phone.
“And he sent Clare this.”
A photograph filled the screen.
Maya’s empty bed.
Clare ran upstairs.
The room was empty.
The window stood open.
Bun lay on the floor.
May you like
And written across the mirror in red lipstick were five words:
BRING ME ELENA’S MEMORY CARD.
