Chapter 6 - The Lie Between Us
I stepped away from Dante.
He knew immediately.
“What did she say?”
I could not answer.
“Emma.”
“Your father.”
Something changed in his face.
“What about him?”
“She said your father killed mine.”
Silence.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
That was worse.
“You knew.”
“I knew there was a possibility.”
The words struck harder than a slap.
I backed away.
“You promised.”
“I promised not to hide anything else after tonight.”
“You knew before tonight.”
“Yes.”
I laughed once.
It sounded broken.
“That is a technicality Marcus would love.”
Pain crossed his face.
I went upstairs.
Packed my things.
Dante did not stop me.
At the front door, he stood ten feet away.
“I’ll provide security.”
“No.”
“Emma—”
“No.”
His hands curled slowly at his sides.
He wanted to argue.
He didn’t.
“All right.”
That restraint almost broke me.
I left.
For three days, I stayed with my friend Rachel.
I ignored Dante’s calls.
There were only two.
No flood of messages.
No threats.
No surprise appearances.
On the fourth morning, an envelope arrived.
Inside were copies of everything Dante possessed concerning my father.
No omissions.
No explanation.
At the bottom was a handwritten sentence.
You asked for truth. You deserve it even if the truth makes you hate me.
I read for six hours.
Carlo Caruso had indeed ordered surveillance on my father.
But there was no murder order.
Instead, one document showed Carlo had warned my father that Vale knew he intended to cooperate with federal investigators.
Another showed Carlo arranging protection.
Protection that had arrived eleven minutes too late.
My father had collapsed in a restaurant.
His autopsy showed cardiac arrest.
But a toxicology test requested privately by my mother had detected traces of digitalis.
Poison.
Richard Vale’s name appeared repeatedly.
Then I found Marcus.
A payment of $75,000 had been made to him seven years ago.
Two weeks before he proposed to me.
I vomited.
Marcus had not met me by accident.
He had been paid to get close.
My marriage had been surveillance.
Maybe not all of it.
That almost made it worse.
I called him.
“Meet me.”
We chose a public coffee shop.
Marcus arrived looking exhausted.
For once, there was no arrogance.
I put the bank record between us.
He stared.
“How much of our marriage was real?”
His face collapsed.
“Emma.”
“How much?”
“At first?”
I closed my eyes.
“God.”
“At first, Vale paid me to find out whether your mother had contacted you.”
“And later?”
“I fell in love with you.”
“No.”
“I did.”
“You controlled me.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of losing me or losing access to me?”
He had no answer.
I stood.
“Where is my mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where would Vale take her?”
Marcus looked toward the window.
“His old hotel.”
“The Sterling?”
“No. The original Sterling property in Gloucester. It closed six years ago.”
I left immediately.
Outside, a black SUV waited across the street.
Dante leaned against it.
I stopped.
He did not approach.
“Rachel called you?”
“No.”
“Then how—”
“Marcus has been watched since the attack.”
Of course.
I should have been angry.
Instead, I was relieved.
“I think I know where Mom is.”
His expression sharpened.
“Tell me.”
I did.
Thirty minutes later, we were heading north.
I sat beside Dante in the back.
Neither of us spoke.
Halfway there, I said, “I read everything.”
He nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For believing you knew.”
“I did know enough that I should have told you.”
I looked at him.
“You really don’t defend yourself much.”
“Would it change what I did?”
“No.”
“Then why waste the words?”
I reached across the seat.
Took his hand.
He looked down.
Then at me.
His fingers slowly closed around mine.
No kiss.
No declaration.
Just warmth.
The abandoned Sterling property stood near the coast like a dead monument.
Windows boarded.
Paint peeling.
Ocean wind tearing at the trees.
Dante’s men entered first.
We found three guards.
Then a locked room.
Dante kicked the door open.
A woman sat inside.
Gray hair.
Thin face.
My eyes.
“Mom.”
She stood.
I could not move.
Neither could she.
Then she crossed the room.
I fell into her arms.
Nine years of grief broke apart in seconds.
I cried like a child.
She held my face.
“I’m sorry.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead I whispered, “You’re alive.”
Behind us, Dante turned away, giving us privacy.
My mother saw him.
Her expression changed.
“You.”
Dante faced her.
“Mrs. Bennett.”
She walked toward him.
Then slapped him.
His men stiffened.
Dante did nothing.
“My husband trusted your father.”
“I know.”
“He died because of that trust.”
Dante accepted the accusation.
Then Mom looked at me.
“You cannot stay near him.”
I wiped my tears.
“Mom—”
“No. You don’t understand.”
She reached inside her coat.
Pulled out a small flash drive.
“This is why Vale killed your father.”
May you like
She placed it in my palm.
“And why he will kill Dante too.”
