Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Met a Ghost
Vanessa spent the next twenty minutes pacing Dante's private study.
Dante stood beside the fireplace, holding the photograph. Marco had removed the dinner guests from the estate and placed security officers at every entrance.
Sophie waited in the adjoining room with a cup of tea and a cold compress for her cheek.
Dante had insisted that she stay. Eleanor had trusted her, and until he understood why, he would not let anyone frighten her into silence.
“Tell me everything,” Dante said.
Vanessa stopped pacing.
“I met Richard fourteen months ago.”
“Where?”
“At a hotel outside the city.”
“Who arranged the meeting?”
“Your mother.”
Dante's eyes narrowed.
“Why would Eleanor contact the man she believed had murdered her husband?”
“Because she received a letter.”
Vanessa reached into her handbag and removed a folded sheet of paper.
“Your mother received it three months before she died. It said Richard was alive and that he had evidence proving Antonio's murder had been arranged by someone inside the family.”
Dante read the letter.
The handwriting was unfamiliar, and the message contained no signature.
Eleanor, your husband was betrayed by the people closest to him. Richard Harlan knows the truth. If you want justice for Antonio, meet him on October 14.
Dante looked up.
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“Because she thought someone was watching you. She believed your grief had made you reckless.”
His jaw tightened.
“My mother knew I had spent twelve years searching for Richard.”
“She also knew that every time you got close, someone destroyed the evidence.”
Dante remembered the witnesses who had changed their stories, the anonymous tips that led nowhere, and the police officer who had disappeared shortly before testifying.
He had blamed Richard for all of it.
What if Richard had been protecting himself from someone else?
“Did you meet him alone?” Dante asked.
“No. Your mother was there for the first meeting. She wanted me to act as a neutral intermediary because Richard didn't trust the Moretti family.”
“Did you believe him?”
“I believed he was afraid.”
“Afraid of whom?”
Vanessa looked down.
“Michael.”
Dante stepped away from the fireplace.
“What did Richard tell you?”
“He said Antonio had discovered that Michael was selling information about the family's operations to a rival organization. Your father intended to remove him from the business and turn over the evidence to federal investigators.”
“And Richard?”
“He had been working with Michael. He was supposed to help arrange a meeting with Antonio, but the meeting turned into an ambush.”
Dante's voice became dangerously quiet.
“So Richard admits he was involved.”
“He admits he helped arrange the meeting. He says he didn't know Michael intended to kill your father.”
“And you believed him?”
“I wanted to.”
“That isn't an answer.”
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
“No. I didn't know what to believe.”
Dante studied her.
“Why keep meeting him after my mother died?”
“Because Eleanor left me instructions. She told me that if anything happened to her, I was to find the key and give it to you.”
“You had the key?”
“No. I knew the box contained one, but I didn't know where Eleanor hid it. I thought she had taken it with her when she died.”
Dante looked at the photograph.
“Then why were you terrified when Sophie opened the compartment?”
Vanessa hesitated too long.
“Because I recognized the second person in the background.”
Dante turned the photograph toward the light.
Behind Vanessa and Richard, partly obscured by a doorway, stood another man.
Dante had not noticed him before.
The image was grainy, but the man's face was visible enough to make his stomach tighten.
Michael Moretti.
His uncle had been present at the meeting.
“You knew he was there.”
Vanessa nodded.
“And you hid it from me.”
“I was afraid Michael would kill us both if he found out I had the photograph.”
Dante leaned forward.
“You let me believe you were loyal to me while concealing evidence about my father's murder.”
“I was trying to protect you!”
“By letting me marry you without knowing what you knew?”
Vanessa began to cry.
Dante looked away.
He no longer knew whether her tears came from fear, guilt, or the realization that the future she had imagined was disappearing.
A knock sounded.
Marco entered.
“Sir, your uncle is on his way. But there's a problem.”
“What?”
“Michael's house is empty. His staff say he left two hours ago. His phone has been switched off.”
Dante picked up the brass key.
“Then we find out what this opens.”
Marco examined the engraving.
“M.M. could stand for Moretti Memorial.”
Dante remembered a small private mausoleum on the old family estate. His father had been buried there, and Eleanor used to visit it every Sunday.
He looked at Vanessa.
“Did my mother ever mention a memorial?”
Vanessa nodded slowly.
“She said the truth was buried somewhere your uncle would never think to look.”
Dante turned toward the door.
“Get the car.”
For the first time in twelve years, he was no longer searching for the man accused of killing his father.
May you like
He was searching for the person who had profited from the murder.
And that person shared his blood.
