Chapter 6 - The Death Certificate
The bank opened at nine the following morning.
Dominic arrived with Marcus and Vanessa, though he made it clear that her presence was not an invitation to forgiveness.
The brass key opened a private deposit box in the bank's old records vault.
Inside was a sealed envelope, a small digital recorder, and a stack of medical documents bound with a red ribbon.
Dominic opened the envelope first.
The death certificate bore Isabella's name, her date of birth, and the date of the accident.
But the official time of death was different.
2:17 A.M.
The signature belonged to Dr. Samuel Cross, a physician whose license number had been deactivated before Isabella's accident.
Marcus examined the document.
“Someone forged this to make it appear Isabella died hours after the crash.”
“Why?” Dominic asked.
“To create a window. If she was alive after the accident, someone could have transferred her to another facility before the authorities arrived.”
Dominic picked up the digital recorder.
A small label had been attached to the back.
Play this only when you know who signed the order.
Vanessa covered her mouth.
“I've never seen that.”
Dominic pressed the button.
Static filled the room.
Then a man's voice emerged.
Anthony's voice.
“Patient is conscious. Transfer her before the police arrive. The child remains with us. No names in the official record.”
A second voice asked, “And if Moretti discovers the baby survived?”
Anthony answered without hesitation.
“He won't. He'll be too busy burying his wife.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
The recording continued.
“Dr. Cross will certify the time. Vanessa will handle the paperwork. If Isabella recovers, she stays in a private facility until we decide what to do with her.”
Then came another voice.
A woman.
“Anthony, this isn't what we agreed to.”
Dominic looked at Vanessa.
She shook her head, horrified.
The woman continued.
“You promised the child would be returned once the documents were signed.”
Anthony's voice hardened.
“Your job is to keep your mouth shut.”
The recording ended.
Marcus rewound it.
“Do you recognize the woman's voice?”
Dominic listened again.
He knew that voice.
Not from the mansion.
Not from the family business.
From childhood.
His mother.
Eleanor Moretti had died when Dominic was sixteen. He remembered her as a quiet woman who avoided arguments and rarely entered his father's study.
But the voice on the recording was not frightened.
It was angry.
“She's alive,” Dominic whispered.
Vanessa stared at him.
“Your mother?”
“Or someone imitating her.”
Marcus placed the medical documents on the table.
“These records indicate Isabella was transferred to a private neurological unit after the accident. The hospital was paid through a shell company controlled by Anthony.”
Dominic flipped through the pages.
There were treatment notes, transfer orders, and handwritten instructions. Some had been signed by Dr. Cross.
Others bore a different signature.
E. MORETTI.
Dominic recognized the elegant handwriting.
It belonged to his mother.
He had spent years believing she had died from a sudden stroke. Her medical records were sealed, and his father had handled the funeral arrangements.
Now he wondered whether Eleanor's death had been as straightforward as the family claimed.
Marcus found an address hidden in the final document.
A private estate near Lake Michigan.
The property had been purchased through an offshore company and was listed as vacant.
“That's where Isabella may have been held,” Marcus said.
Dominic folded the paper.
“Then that's where we're going.”
Vanessa stood.
“You can't take me with you.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Anthony will know you've opened the box. He'll move Isabella again.”
“Then I need to get there before he does.”
Vanessa looked at the recorder.
“If you find her, she'll tell you what happened to your mother.”
Dominic turned.
“What does that mean?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“Three weeks ago, Isabella told me that the accident wasn't the first time Anthony had tried to remove someone from your life.”
“Who else?”
“She wouldn't say.”
Dominic's eyes narrowed.
“You've spent years hiding behind half-truths. If you know something about my mother, tell me now.”
Vanessa's face crumpled.
“Eleanor didn't die of a stroke. She was admitted to a private clinic after a fall. The official records say she never regained consciousness.”
“And?”
Vanessa whispered, “The clinic was owned by the same company that paid for Isabella's room.”
For a moment, Dominic couldn't move.
He had been so focused on finding Isabella that he had never considered the possibility that the same people had controlled his family for decades.
He took the documents and left the bank.
At the estate near Lake Michigan, they found an abandoned building surrounded by iron fencing. The windows were boarded up, and weeds covered the driveway.
Marcus's men searched the grounds.
No one was there.
Inside, Dominic found a bedroom with fresh bedding, a glass of water, and a woman's scarf hanging from a chair.
He recognized it immediately.
Isabella had worn that scarf on their honeymoon.
He pressed it to his face.
For four years, he had believed he would never touch anything she had worn again.
A faint sound came from behind a locked door.
Dominic rushed toward it.
“Isabella?”
No answer.
He broke the lock.
The room beyond was empty except for a chair, a medical bed, and a wall covered in photographs.
Isabella at the beach.
Isabella reading in the garden.
Isabella holding her stomach during the final weeks of her pregnancy.
And one photograph of Dominic standing outside his own mansion, unaware that someone was watching him from the shadows.
A note had been pinned beneath it.
He has to believe you're dead until the child is safe.
Dominic tore it from the wall.
At the bottom was a date.
OCTOBER 25, 2026.
Yesterday.
Someone had been here yesterday.
On the bedside table lay a small pill bottle and a handwritten medication schedule. The final entry had been crossed out.
Dominic called Marcus.
“She's been moved. Find every vehicle that left this property in the last forty-eight hours.”
Marcus's voice came through the phone.
“Already working on it.”
A crash sounded upstairs.
Dominic ran back into the hallway.
Vanessa stood near the staircase, staring at a man who had appeared in the doorway.
The man held a gun.
“I'm sorry,” he said.
Then he looked directly at Dominic.
May you like
“Your father sends his regards.”
The gunshot shattered the silence.
