Chapter 9 - 9
I wanted to believe my mother was mistaken.
I wanted to believe trauma had confused her memories.
But when I entered her hospital room, I saw the terror in her eyes.
And I knew she believed every word she'd told the police.
“Emily.”
She reached for me.
I ran to her.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
I held her so tightly that she finally laughed through her tears.
“Sweetheart, I need to breathe.”
I loosened my grip.
“I'm sorry.”
She brushed my hair away from my face.
“You look exhausted.”
“So do you.”
She smiled weakly.
Then her expression changed.
“Did you leave that house?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I sat beside her.
“Mom, Detective Bennett told me what you said.”
Her face went pale.
“About Massimo?”
I nodded.
She looked toward the door.
“Emily, I heard him.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see him?”
She hesitated.
“No.”
My heart tightened.
“Mom.”
“I know what you're thinking. But I heard his voice through a speaker.”
“Could someone have played a recording?”
She shook her head.
“He answered questions. He gave instructions.”
I swallowed.
“What did he say?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“He told them not to hurt me.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“He said I was valuable alive.”
The words made my stomach turn.
My mother gripped my hand.
“Emily, whoever that man was, he knew your father.”
I leaned forward.
“What do you mean?”
“He mentioned Daniel's files.”
I froze.
“What files?”
She looked away.
“Your father left something behind.”
My heart began pounding.
“Mom, what did he leave?”
She closed her eyes.
“A ledger.”
I stared at her.
“A financial ledger?”
She nodded.
“He discovered that money was being moved through charitable foundations and shell companies. He believed some of it was connected to illegal operations.”
“Where is it?”
“I don't know.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Daniel hid it before he died. He told me it was somewhere nobody would think to look.”
“Did he give you a clue?”
She hesitated.
Then whispered, “He said the truth was buried where you learned to fly.”
I stared at her.
The words meant nothing.
Then suddenly, a memory surfaced.
I was eight years old.
My father was pushing me on a swing behind our old house.
“Higher, Daddy!”
He laughed.
“You're going to fly away.”
“Then catch me!”
“Always, Em.”
My breath caught.
“The swing.”
My mother looked confused.
“What?”
“The old house. Dad buried something near the swing.”
Her eyes widened.
“Emily—”
Before she could finish, the door opened.
Detective Bennett entered.
And behind him stood Massimo.
My entire body went rigid.
“What is he doing here?”
Massimo stopped immediately.
He looked exhausted.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes.
He was dressed in a simple black sweater, and his right hand trembled against the wheelchair armrest.
“I came because Sarah told me your mother was safe,” he said.
My mother began shaking.
“Get him out.”
Massimo's expression changed.
He looked at her.
“Mrs. Fitzgerald, I swear I had nothing to do with what happened to you.”
She turned away.
“I heard your voice.”
“I know.”
I stared at him.
“You know?”
Massimo nodded.
“Bennett told me.”
“Then explain it.”
He looked toward the detective.
“May I?”
Bennett folded his arms.
“Go ahead.”
Massimo took a breath.
“Gabriel and I have nearly identical voices.”
The room fell silent.
I stared at him.
“Your twin.”
“Yes.”
My mother slowly turned back.
Massimo continued.
“Gabriel used to impersonate me when we were teenagers. He could imitate my mannerisms, my signature, even the way I answered the phone.”
I looked at Bennett.
“Is that possible?”
The detective nodded cautiously.
“Voice identification alone isn't conclusive, especially when close relatives are involved. We're investigating.”
Massimo looked at my mother.
“Mrs. Fitzgerald, did the man mention anything that would identify him beyond the voice?”
She hesitated.
“He said Daniel should've kept his mouth shut.”
Massimo closed his eyes.
Then whispered, “Gabriel.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because my father used those exact words when he learned Daniel had contacted the authorities.”
My mother began crying.
Massimo's face twisted.
“I'm sorry.”
She stared at him.
“You should be.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
For the first time, I saw him accept the accusation without defending himself.
Not because he was guilty of the kidnapping.
But because his family had caused pain that no apology could erase.
Bennett interrupted.
“We have another development.”
He placed a folder on the bedside table.
“The body found in the warehouse has been identified.”
I looked up.
“Adrian?”
Bennett shook his head.
“No.”
Massimo's expression hardened.
“Then who?”
“Luca Moretti.”
I stared at him.
“Your security chief?”
Massimo looked stunned.
Bennett nodded.
“His dental records and DNA confirmed it.”
I felt sick.
Luca had been inside the mansion the night Rosa was attacked.
He had controlled the cameras.
He had lied about the photograph of my phone.
And now he was dead.
“Where's Adrian?” I asked.
Bennett's expression darkened.
“We don't know.”
Massimo looked toward the window.
“He's cleaning up.”
I turned.
“What?”
“My brother is eliminating anyone who can connect him to the conspiracy.”
Bennett didn't contradict him.
But he said, “That's a possibility, not a conclusion.”
I looked at Massimo.
“Do you think Adrian killed Luca?”
“I think Adrian knows more than he's told us.”
“And Gabriel?”
Massimo's face hardened.
“I think Gabriel has been working with him.”
The room fell silent.
Then my mother spoke.
“There's something else.”
We all turned.
She looked at me.
“Emily, before they released me, the man with the scar gave me a message.”
My heart tightened.
“What message?”
She swallowed.
“He said the ledger would prove who really owned Pascale Holdings.”
Massimo went still.
“What?”
My mother looked directly at him.
“He said your father stole the company.”
The silence was absolute.
Massimo stared at her.
“From whom?”
My mother's eyes filled with tears.
“From Daniel Fitzgerald.”
I couldn't breathe.
My father.
The quiet hospital administrator who made pancakes every Sunday.
The man I'd believed had nothing to do with the Pascale empire.
Had he once owned part of it?
Or was someone trying to make us believe another lie?
I looked at Massimo.
His face was pale.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he said, “We need to find that ledger.”
I nodded.
But before we could make a plan, Bennett's phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then his expression changed.
“What?”
He turned toward us.
“Stay where you are.”
Massimo straightened.
“What happened?”
Bennett looked at me.
“Someone just broke into your childhood home.”
My heart stopped.
“The old house?”
He nodded.
“And according to the neighbor who called it in, the intruder was digging beneath a tree in the backyard.”
I stared at my mother.
May you like
The swing had hung from that tree.
Someone else knew where my father had hidden the truth.
