Chapter 8
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## The Dead Man's Return
The photograph was authenticated within hours.
It had been taken recently.
Richard Moretti was alive.
Dominic sat in silence while detectives examined the image. His uncle had supposedly died abroad after a sudden heart attack. The family had received a death certificate, a funeral bill, and a sealed casket.
No one had questioned it.
Not even Antonio.
“Maybe Dad knew,” Dominic said.
Clara looked at the photograph.
“Or maybe someone made sure he couldn't tell you.”
The police traced the hotel to a small coastal town. A guest had registered under a false name, but the surveillance footage showed a man matching Richard's appearance.
Dominic insisted on joining the search.
The police agreed, provided he followed their instructions.
They found Richard in a rented house overlooking the water.
He was older, thinner, and walking with a cane. But he was unmistakably the man in the photograph.
When he saw Dominic, he didn't run.
“You look like your mother,” Richard said.
Dominic stepped forward.
“You've been dead for three years.”
“That's what I paid people to believe.”
“Did you kill her?”
Richard's face tightened.
“No.”
“Did you steal from her trust?”
“No. I discovered who did.”
“Then tell me.”
Richard looked at Clara.
“Victoria trusted your mother. She believed the money was meant to protect you. But the trust was only one part of the scheme.”
He explained that someone had used the family business to move money through shell companies, then forged documents to hide the transfers. When Victoria uncovered the fraud, she planned to deliver evidence to federal investigators.
Richard had helped her arrange the meeting.
But someone intercepted her before she arrived.
“Who?” Dominic asked.
Richard shook his head.
“I never saw the face. I heard the voice.”
“Whose voice?”
Richard looked away.
“Your father's.”
Dominic felt as if the floor had disappeared beneath him.
“No.”
“Antonio called Victoria that night. He begged her to come home. When she arrived, they argued. I heard them from the driveway.”
“About what?”
“The money. The evidence. Someone else.”
Richard's voice broke.
“Then I heard a crash.”
Dominic grabbed his collar.
“You let me believe my mother died in an accident.”
“I was threatened. If I spoke, you would be next.”
“You let me bury her without the truth!”
Richard didn't resist.
“I know.”
Clara stepped between them.
“Then help us find it.”
Richard nodded toward a locked cabinet.
Inside was a small digital recorder and a sealed envelope.
“The recorder contains part of a conversation from that night. I kept it because I knew someone would eventually come looking for me.”
Dominic took the device.
“Why didn't you give this to the police?”
“Because I heard another voice after the crash.”
He looked at Clara.
“Your mother's voice.”
Clara went pale.
“My mother was there?”
“Margaret arrived before the ambulance. She tried to help Victoria. She also heard the argument.”
Dominic stared at the recorder.
They played the recording.
A woman's voice. A man's raised voice. A crash.
Then a sentence, barely audible.
“If the girl lives, everything is lost.”
Clara covered her mouth.
Dominic stopped the recording.
“Who said that?”
Richard looked toward the window.
“I don't know.”
Then the lights went out.
A gunshot shattered the silence.
May you like
When emergency lights flickered on, Richard was on the floor.
And the recorder was gone.
