Chapter 5 - The Missing Medical File
Lorenzo moved Sophie that afternoon.
Not out of the mansion.
Out of the east wing.
He chose a sunny guest suite beside his own bedroom and ordered the medical equipment transferred.
But there was one rule Sophie insisted upon.
Lily came too.
I protested.
“We can't live here.”
Lorenzo looked at me.
“I'm not asking you to.”
“You just had someone enter your daughter's balcony.”
“And whoever did it knows where you live.”
That stopped me.
He softened his voice.
“Stay tonight. Tomorrow we reassess.”
I looked at Lily.
She and Sophie were sitting on the carpet feeding imaginary tea to Leo and Bartholomew.
“Tonight.”
“Thank you.”
It was strange hearing Lorenzo Moretti thank anyone.
By evening, the mansion had transformed.
Security cameras were checked.
Locks changed.
Staff access suspended and reissued.
Yet Lorenzo never let the tension enter Sophie’s room.
When he stepped inside, he smiled.
Not convincingly.
But he tried.
Lily climbed into his lap without permission.
He froze.
“You're the daddy,” she said.
“So I'm told.”
“My mommy says daddies are supposed to know everything.”
I nearly choked.
Lorenzo looked at me.
“Your mommy has unrealistic expectations.”
Lily considered this.
“Do you know where butterflies sleep?”
“No.”
“See?”
Sophie laughed.
Lorenzo looked toward her.
The entire room changed whenever she made that sound.
Later, after the girls slept, Marco brought the investigation results.
The ring from the video had belonged to Lorenzo’s older half-brother, Dominic.
Dominic Moretti had died three years earlier.
At least officially.
I stared at Lorenzo.
“Another dead person?”
His expression suggested he did not appreciate the pattern.
Marco placed an old photograph on the table.
Dominic wore the ring.
Gold band.
Black stone.
“Could someone else have it?” I asked.
“Yes,” Marco said.
“Where was it after he died?”
Lorenzo answered.
“Buried with him.”
Nobody spoke.
“Are we absolutely certain anyone in this family is actually dead?” I asked.
Marco almost laughed.
Lorenzo didn't.
But I saw the corner of his mouth move.
Then Marco produced another folder.
“We reviewed Sophie's medication records.”
“And?”
“One drug was never ordered by her specialist.”
Lorenzo became still.
“What was it?”
Marco named it.
“Could it explain her symptoms?”
“Potentially some of them. We sent the records to two independent physicians.”
“Who authorized it?”
“That’s the problem.”
Marco turned the document around.
The authorization carried Lorenzo's digital signature.
Lorenzo stared.
“I never signed this.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Someone used your credentials.”
“Who had access?”
“Three people.”
“Names.”
“Me.”
Marco paused.
“Your former attorney, Victor Hale.”
Another pause.
“And Dominic.”
Lorenzo sat back.
Dominic.
Again.
I looked at the medical file.
“When did Dominic supposedly die?”
“Three years ago.”
“So he was alive when Sophie stopped speaking.”
“Yes.”
“What was his relationship with Sophie?”
Lorenzo's expression became difficult to read.
“He adored her.”
“Did Sophie adore him?”
“Yes.”
That made everything worse.
Lorenzo walked to the window.
“Dominic and I weren't close as adults.”
“Why?”
“Business disagreements.”
I waited.
He sighed.
“Our father left controlling shares of several companies to me.”
“And Dominic resented that.”
“He resented everything.”
“Could he have hurt Sophie?”
Lorenzo turned immediately.
“No.”
The certainty surprised me.
Then he reconsidered.
“I don't know.”
That answer hurt him.
Marco opened another file.
“There’s more.”
He showed us financial transfers.
Money had moved from one dormant company to another for six years.
Each transfer occurred on April 17.
4/17.
“The number,” I whispered.
Marco nodded.
“The company receiving the money belongs to a trust.”
“Whose trust?”
“We don't know yet.”
Lorenzo stared at the transactions.
“Find out.”
A soft voice came from the doorway.
“Daddy.”
Everyone froze.
Sophie stood there.
Barefoot.
Holding Leo.
Lorenzo immediately crossed the room.
“Hey.”
She leaned against him.
It was the first time I had seen her voluntarily seek physical comfort from him.
His arms closed around her carefully.
“You should be asleep.”
Sophie looked at the papers.
Then she pointed.
Dominic’s photograph.
Lorenzo followed her gaze.
“Uncle Dominic?”
Sophie nodded.
“Do you remember him?”
Another nod.
“Was he with you that night?”
Sophie became still.
Lorenzo immediately stopped.
“You don't have to answer.”
She buried her face against him.
He lifted her.
“Bed.”
As he carried her away, Sophie looked over his shoulder.
At me.
Then at the photograph.
Her lips moved.
I stepped closer.
“What?”
She whispered:
“Not him.”
I stared.
“Not Dominic?”
Sophie shook her head.
Then pointed at the ring.
Not him.
The ring had been Dominic's.
But the person wearing it wasn't Dominic.
That meant someone had taken it before his burial.
Or afterward.
The next morning brought another revelation.
Marco identified the trust receiving the April 17 transfers.
Its beneficiary was Sophie.
The payments had been coming from Elena.
“She’s been funding her daughter secretly for six years,” I said.
Lorenzo stared at the documents.
“Why hide it?”
Marco answered.
“Maybe the money isn't the point.”
Attached to every transfer was a coded reference.
A17.
B17.
C17.
One letter changed each year.
Lorenzo arranged them chronologically.
A.
B.
C.
D.
E.
F.
Six letters.
Marco frowned.
“Coordinates?”
“No,” I said.
“What?”
“Maybe sections.”
I thought of the hidden room.
“The filing cabinet downstairs.”
We returned to 417.
Inside the abandoned room, the cabinet had six drawers.
Each was labeled with a letter.
A through F.
The brass key from Leo fit drawer F.
Lorenzo inserted it.
Click.
The drawer opened.
Inside was a medical file.
SOPHIE MORETTI.
Lorenzo lifted it out.
The file contained blood tests.
Scans.
Specialist reports.
But they weren't from eight months earlier.
They were dated six years earlier.
When Sophie was an infant.
Lorenzo turned pages faster.
“What is this?”
Marco read over his shoulder.
“Genetic testing.”
Lorenzo stopped.
One page had been marked in red.
PATERNITY EXCLUSION.
His face changed.
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Lorenzo…”
He read the page.
Then again.
The report appeared to say he was not Sophie’s biological father.
He closed the folder.
For several seconds nobody spoke.
Then a voice came from behind us.
“That report is fake.”
We turned.
A woman stood in the doorway.
Brown hair.
Older than the photograph.
Tears filling her eyes.
Lorenzo could not move.
Neither could I.
She looked at him.
Then whispered:
May you like
“Hello, Lorenzo.”
Elena had come home.
