Chapter 7 - The Night Salvatore Disappeared
The forged document did exactly what Thomas intended.
It created doubt.
Not proof.
Doubt.
And doubt was enough for headlines.
Enough for donors to pause.
Enough for strangers online to decide I was a waitress who had manipulated an older wealthy man.
Salvatore wanted me away from the scandal.
I refused.
“This foundation isn't yours to protect alone.”
“I know.”
“Then stop treating me like I'm fragile.”
“I don't.”
“You sent Daniel to escort me home.”
“Because reporters are outside your building.”
“That isn't the point.”
“What is?”
“You disappear emotionally every time something scares you.”
He looked at me.
“This does not scare me.”
“Yes, it does.”
“What exactly do you think I'm afraid of?”
“Me getting hurt.”
Silence.
I stepped closer.
“You couldn't save Anna. So now every time someone matters, you try to control the distance.”
His jaw tightened.
“That is enough.”
“No.”
“Lily.”
“You can walk away from this conversation. But don't pretend it's because you're protecting me.”
He stared at me for a long time.
Then he said, “You are twenty-six.”
“I know.”
“You have decades ahead of you.”
“So do you, if you're lucky.”
“You should have children if you want them. Travel. Make mistakes. Build something that belongs entirely to you.”
“Why can't I do those things if you're in my life?”
His silence hurt.
Then he said quietly:
“Because one day, you may have to watch me become old.”
I almost laughed.
“You are old.”
He blinked.
I smiled despite everything.
“You're impossible.”
“You're fifty-nine, Salvatore. Not ninety.”
“Some mornings the distinction is questionable.”
I took his hand.
“You don't get to reject yourself on my behalf.”
He looked at our hands.
Then at me.
“I don't know how to do this.”
“What?”
“Begin again.”
“Neither do I.”
That was the first honest answer we had given each other about us.
He lifted my hand.
Pressed a kiss to my knuckles.
Then Daniel entered.
“We found the source of the forged document.”
Thomas's former legal office.
But Thomas himself had disappeared.
The investigation accelerated.
Victor publicly testified about the original trust.
Independent handwriting experts verified Anna's genuine documents.
Hospital records proved the supposed post-death signature impossible.
Within days, public opinion began shifting.
But Salvatore disappeared.
No call.
No message.
Daniel claimed he didn't know where he was.
I didn't believe him.
On the second night, I went to Salvatore's house.
Daniel answered.
“Where is he?”
“Lily—”
“Daniel.”
He sighed.
“Lake house.”
“Address.”
“He asked not to be disturbed.”
“I didn't ask what he wanted.”
An hour later, I found Salvatore sitting alone on a dock.
No security.
No expensive suit.
Just a sweater and an old photograph of Anna.
I sat beside him.
“You're angry.”
“Yes.”
“I expected that.”
“Why did you leave?”
He looked at the water.
“Because Thomas contacted me.”
My anger disappeared.
“What?”
“He offered to confess.”
“In exchange for?”
“Me.”
I stared.
“What does that mean?”
“He wants me to take responsibility for financial decisions he made twenty-three years ago.”
“That's insane.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And if I do, he leaves you, Elena, Victor and the foundation alone.”
I stood.
“No.”
“Lily.”
“No.”
“It may be the cleanest solution.”
“You're considering it?”
He didn't answer.
I stepped in front of him.
“You spent twenty-three years angry because Victor sacrificed himself without trusting you.”
His eyes lifted.
“And now you're going to do exactly the same thing?”
That landed.
“You don't get to become Victor and call it love.”
He stood.
“Thomas is dangerous because he has nothing left to lose.”
“And you think surrendering teaches him to stop?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I think it gives you your life back.”
“My life is mine.”
I pushed one finger against his chest.
“Stop trying to give it back to me like you own it.”
His expression changed.
I realized how close we were.
“So what would you have me do?” he asked.
“Trust me.”
“With what?”
“Everything.”
The word hung between us.
He looked down at me.
Then he kissed me.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like a man asking a question he had been afraid to ask.
I answered by pulling him closer.
When we separated, he rested his forehead against mine.
“This is a terrible idea.”
“Probably.”
“You're not reassuring.”
“You've had enough people lying to you.”
He laughed.
Quietly.
And there it was.
The thing Anna had wanted for him.
Not forgetting.
Living.
His phone vibrated.
He looked at the screen.
The smile vanished.
“What?”
“Thomas.”
A message.
Midnight. St. Catherine's. Come alone or the originals burn.
I looked at the time.
11:14.
“You aren't going alone.”
“He specifically said—”
“I don't care.”
At 11:52, we reached the abandoned hospital.
The fourth-floor light was on again.
Room 417.
We climbed the stairs.
The corridor was empty.
At the end, smoke curled beneath the door.
Salvatore ran.
He reached for the handle.
Locked.
Then we heard a voice inside.
Thomas.
“Salvatore?”
Salvatore froze.
A second voice answered Thomas.
May you like
Victor.
And then came the sound of glass breaking.
