Chapter 8 - THE WOMAN WHO SAVED HER ENEMY
Vanessa Sterling had spent three years making Isabella Moretti's life a nightmare.
Now she was lying beneath a desk, bleeding from a cut on her forehead, praying that Isabella was still alive.
Glass covered the carpet.
Dr. Keller lay motionless near the window.
Vanessa pressed both hands over her mouth.
She wanted to scream.
But another shot might come.
Her phone buzzed again.
LEAVE THE PHOTOGRAPH. WALK OUT THE BACK DOOR.
Vanessa stared at the message.
Someone was watching her.
Someone knew exactly where she was hiding.
She looked toward the photograph lying beneath the desk.
Eleanor Sterling holding a newborn baby.
Her mother.
Or at least the woman who had raised her.
Vanessa reached for it.
Then she heard footsteps in the hallway.
“Vanessa?”
A man's voice.
Caleb Ross.
“Vanessa, are you in there?”
She crawled toward the door.
“HELP!”
The door burst open.
Caleb entered with two security guards.
He immediately pulled Vanessa away from the windows.
“Stay down.”
She grabbed his sleeve.
“Keller's been shot!”
One guard checked the doctor.
“He's breathing.”
Caleb called emergency services.
Then he looked at Vanessa.
“Who did this?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“Who were you talking to?”
She began crying.
“A woman.”
“What woman?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“She says she's Sofia Moretti.”
Caleb stared.
“That's impossible.”
“I know.”
But she didn't know anymore.
Nothing she had believed about her life seemed real.
Luca arrived at the estate just as paramedics were carrying Keller out.
Vanessa sat on the front steps with a blanket around her shoulders.
Her evening gown was stained with blood.
When she saw Luca, she stood.
“Luca—”
He stopped several feet away.
“Are you hurt?”
The question surprised her.
She shook her head.
“Not badly.”
“Good.”
His voice was cold.
“Then you can tell the police everything.”
Vanessa lowered her eyes.
“I will.”
Luca stared.
For three years, Vanessa had defended every lie with another lie.
Now she seemed almost relieved.
“I know about Sofia,” he said.
Vanessa nodded.
“She isn't my mother.”
“I heard.”
“She made me believe she was.”
Luca looked at her.
“Did you know Isabella was alive?”
Vanessa began crying.
“Yes.”
The admission struck harder than he expected.
“How long?”
“Not the entire three years.”
“How long, Vanessa?”
“Almost two.”
Luca stepped back.
He had spent nights searching abandoned houses.
He had hired investigators.
He had followed false sightings across the country.
And Vanessa had known.
“You watched me mourn her.”
“I know.”
“You watched me blame myself.”
“I know.”
“YOU LET ME BELIEVE MY WIFE HAD ABANDONED ME!”
Vanessa covered her face.
“I thought she was dangerous.”
Luca stared at her.
“Dangerous?”
“Sofia showed me documents. She said Isabella was working with people who wanted to destroy your family.”
“And you believed her?”
“At first.”
“When did you stop?”
Vanessa looked up.
“Four months ago.”
“The photograph.”
She nodded.
“I went to St. Catherine's because Sofia told me Isabella had returned.”
“What happened?”
“I found her in Room 214.”
Luca felt his pulse quicken.
“Was she hurt?”
“She was frightened.”
“Did you threaten her?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“Not that night.”
Luca looked away.
The words not that night told him enough.
Vanessa continued.
“She showed me evidence that Sofia had lied about my childhood. She told me Margaret Ellis was my real mother.”
“Did you believe her?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I called Sofia.”
Vanessa began trembling.
“She told me to keep Isabella in the room until someone came for her.”
Luca's expression hardened.
“Did you?”
Vanessa looked at him.
“For almost an hour.”
Luca stepped back.
“God, Vanessa.”
“She begged me to let her leave.”
“And?”
“I finally did.”
“Why?”
Vanessa's voice broke.
“Because she told me something no one else knew.”
“What?”
“She said my mother used to sing to me when I was little.”
Vanessa wiped her cheeks.
“She sang the song.”
Luca waited.
“And I remembered it.”
For the first time, Vanessa looked less like the elegant woman who had controlled his home and more like a frightened child.
“She told me Margaret was alive. She told me Sofia had taken me away from her.”
Luca stared at her.
“Where did Isabella go?”
“I don't know. She wouldn't tell me.”
“Did you try to find her?”
“Yes.”
“To help her?”
Vanessa looked down.
“At first, I wanted to prove she was lying.”
Luca's jaw tightened.
“And later?”
“Later, I wanted to apologize.”
He studied her.
“Then why did you attack Emily?”
Vanessa's eyes filled again.
“Because Sofia called me yesterday. She said the suitcase contained the ledger.”
“So you pushed a pregnant woman to protect yourself.”
Vanessa nodded.
“I was terrified.”
Luca's voice was quiet.
“Fear doesn't excuse what you did.”
“I know.”
“You could have killed her baby.”
Vanessa began sobbing.
“I know.”
Luca turned away.
He couldn't forgive her.
Not now.
Maybe not ever.
But he needed the truth.
“Tell Detective Mitchell everything,” he said. “Every payment, every meeting, every threat.”
Vanessa nodded.
Then she reached beneath the blanket.
“I found this.”
She handed him the photograph of Eleanor holding baby Vanessa.
Luca examined it.
On the back was a handwritten address.
A house in upstate New York.
Below it were three words.
Where she waits.
Luca looked up.
“Who wrote this?”
“I don't know.”
Vanessa swallowed.
“But I think Isabella wanted me to find it.”
Two hours later, Luca stood outside a small white farmhouse surrounded by bare maple trees.
Caleb remained beside the car.
Detective Mitchell had sent officers to secure the property.
The house looked abandoned.
But a light glowed behind an upstairs curtain.
Luca approached the porch.
His heart was pounding.
He knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again.
“Isabella?”
Silence.
“It's Luca.”
A floorboard creaked inside.
He pressed his hand against the door.
“Please.”
His voice broke.
“I don't know if you're in there. But if you are, I need you to know something.”
He swallowed.
“I never stopped looking.”
A lock turned.
The door opened a few inches.
An elderly woman stood inside.
Silver hair.
Tired blue eyes.
Luca recognized her from an old hospital photograph.
“Margaret Ellis?”
She nodded.
“You shouldn't have come.”
“Where's my wife?”
Margaret looked past him toward the road.
“Did anyone follow you?”
“Police are outside.”
Her expression tightened.
“That might not be enough.”
Luca stepped closer.
“Margaret, please.”
She studied his face.
Then her eyes filled with tears.
“You look so much like your father.”
Luca swallowed.
“Is Isabella here?”
Margaret opened the door wider.
“Come inside.”
The house smelled of coffee and old wood.
A fire burned in the living room.
On the mantel stood several framed photographs.
Luca stopped in front of one.
Isabella.
She was standing in a garden.
Smiling.
The photograph was recent.
“Where is she?”
Margaret's voice trembled.
“She was here yesterday.”
Luca turned.
“Yesterday?”
“She left when she learned Sofia's people had found the address.”
“Where did she go?”
Margaret shook her head.
“She wouldn't tell me.”
Luca closed his eyes.
One day.
He had missed his wife by one day.
Margaret touched his arm.
“She left something for you.”
She opened a drawer and removed a small envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Luca stared.
Isabella sat on a park bench holding a little boy.
The child had dark curls.
Brown eyes.
A familiar smile.
Luca's hands began shaking.
“How old is he?”
Margaret's eyes filled.
“Two.”
Luca looked at her.
“Who is he?”
Margaret began crying.
Then whispered:
“His name is Gabriel. He's Isabella's son.”
Luca stared at the photograph.
Two years old.
His wife had disappeared three years earlier.
He looked up slowly.
“Is he mine?”
Margaret's expression changed.
She hesitated.
May you like
And that hesitation terrified him more than any answer.
Continue to Chapter 9: Who is Gabriel—and what secret has Isabella been protecting since the night she disappeared?
