Chapter 8 - THE WOMAN WHO RETURNED FROM THE GRAVE
Vincent read the signature several times.
Richard Vale had been his father's attorney, financial adviser, and closest confidant. His death had been reported in a private obituary three years earlier.
Yet someone was signing his name.
Someone who knew secrets the Moretti family had buried for decades.
"Could this be a copycat?" Adrian asked.
"Possibly," Vincent replied. "But the handwriting matches the documents in my father's archive."
I looked at the letter again.
Your mother did not die in an accident.
Your father did not die before you were born.
And Vincent Moretti is not the man you should be afraid of.
The last sentence disturbed me most.
If Vincent wasn't the threat, who was?
Daniel arranged a meeting with a former investigator who had worked for Richard Vale. The man agreed to speak only after Vincent promised not to bring security.
We met in a small café near the harbor.
His name was Thomas Reed.
He looked older than his photographs, with a trembling hand and eyes that kept drifting toward the windows.
"Richard Vale didn't die three years ago," Thomas said.
Vincent leaned forward.
"Then who did?"
"An unidentified man. Richard arranged the death certificate and disappeared."
"Why?"
"Because your father was about to expose him."
Vincent went still.
"Expose him for what?"
Thomas opened a worn folder.
"Richard had been moving money through trusts established in the names of children who never legally existed. Some were connected to wealthy families. Others were children born to women who couldn't afford to fight powerful men."
I felt sick.
"Was Adrian one of them?" I asked.
"Yes."
Thomas turned a page.
"But he wasn't the only Moretti child."
Vincent's jaw tightened.
"What does that mean?"
"Your father had another son."
Adrian looked up sharply.
"Who?"
Thomas hesitated.
"That's what Richard was trying to establish when he disappeared. He believed the child had been raised in Chicago under a false identity."
Vincent stared at him.
"Are you telling me I have another brother?"
"I'm telling you the records suggest it."
"Who is he?"
Thomas shook his head.
"I don't know. Richard took the final file with him."
Vincent pushed back his chair.
"Then where is Richard?"
Thomas looked toward the window.
"Somewhere he can watch you."
We followed his gaze.
A black sedan sat across the street.
The driver was a woman.
When she noticed us looking, she started the engine and pulled away.
Vincent moved toward the door.
Thomas grabbed his arm.
"Don't follow her."
"Why?"
"Because she's not the person you're looking for."
Thomas reached into his folder and removed a photograph.
It showed a woman standing outside a church, holding a baby.
The woman's face was older, but I recognized her immediately.
Catherine Moretti.
Vincent's mother.
Behind her stood Richard Vale.
And beside him was my father.
On the back, someone had written:
October 14. The night Catherine disappeared.
Vincent stared at the date.
"My mother died in March."
Thomas nodded.
"According to the official record."
The café seemed to grow colder.
"Are you saying she was alive for months after the accident?" Vincent demanded.
"I'm saying the woman buried in the family mausoleum may not have been Catherine."
Vincent stood so abruptly his chair fell backward.
"Where is she?"
Thomas lowered his voice.
"Richard believes she went to Switzerland."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"Switzerland?"
Thomas nodded.
"She may have been living under another name."
I thought of the man outside Amelia's building. The ring. The threats. The mysterious envelope.
Was someone watching me because I had stumbled into a family secret?
Or because they wanted me to find it?
That evening, Adrian received the DNA results.
He called us into the hospital conference room.
"I ran the test twice," he said. "The results are conclusive."
Vincent stood across from him.
Adrian placed the report on the table.
"Catherine Moretti was my biological mother."
Vincent closed his eyes.
For the first time, he seemed to understand that the family he'd worshipped and feared had been built on lies.
Adrian continued.
"But there's something else."
He slid over a second report.
"The records from the old trust contain a reference to a second child born to Catherine. A daughter."
Vincent frowned.
"My mother never had a daughter."
"According to the records, she did. The baby was registered under a different name."
"What name?"
Adrian looked at me.
Then he turned the page.
The name printed there made my legs weaken.
Claire Bennett.
I grabbed the edge of the table.
"No."
Vincent stared at the report.
"That's impossible."
Adrian's expression was grim.
"The birth date is twenty-eight years ago. The hospital was St. Catherine's."
I shook my head.
"My father raised me. My mother died when I was a child."
"Your father may have raised you," Adrian said quietly. "But that doesn't mean he was your biological father."
I couldn't breathe.
Vincent reached for me, but I stepped away.
"No. Don't touch me."
He stopped.
I looked at the report again.
My entire life had just become a question.
And then my phone rang.
An unfamiliar number.
A woman's voice whispered, "Claire, if you've seen the records, you need to leave Switzerland immediately."
"Who is this?"
"My name is Catherine."
I covered my mouth.
"Vincent's mother?"
A pause.
May you like
Then the woman answered:
"Yes. And I'm the woman who gave birth to you."
