Chapter 4 - The Secret Sophia Buried
Marco shoved Isabella behind him as the apartment door opened.
A young man in a gray coat stepped inside and froze at the sight of Dante’s security team.
He lifted both hands.
“Don’t shoot.”
“Who are you?” Marco demanded.
“Evan.”
“Evan what?”
“Voss.”
Caroline’s son.
The name changed everything.
Dante looked at him carefully.
Evan appeared to be in his late twenties, exhausted, frightened, and completely unprepared for the room he had entered.
“Where is your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why are you here?”
Evan looked at the walls.
His face twisted with disgust.
“I was trying to stop this.”
Dante pointed toward the laptop.
“Start talking.”
Evan swallowed.
“My mother worked for Elena Caruso for years.”
“We know.”
“She doesn’t anymore.”
“When did that end?”
“It never really ended.”
He looked at Isabella.
“I’m sorry.”
Isabella said nothing.
Evan continued.
“Elena came back to New York earlier this year. She contacted my mother. At first she said she only wanted information about Dante.”
Dante’s expression remained cold.
“Information she could have found online.”
“She wanted private details.”
“What details?”
“What you ate. Where you went. Who Isabella saw. Whether you fought.”
Isabella’s stomach turned.
Dante asked, “How did they get inside my home?”
Evan looked away.
“My mother had access through someone on the household staff.”
Marco immediately began calling his team.
Dante did not move.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I swear.”
“Keep going.”
Evan took a breath.
“Elena became obsessed with Isabella.”
“Why?”
“Because Isabella was happy.”
The answer surprised everyone.
Evan continued.
“Elena thought Dante had ruined her life. Then she saw photographs of the wedding. She couldn’t accept that he had moved on.”
Isabella looked at Dante.
He reached for her hand.
Evan said, “At first the plan was just to make Isabella insecure.”
Dante’s grip tightened.
“Just.”
“I know how it sounds.”
“No, you don’t.”
Evan lowered his eyes.
“My mother created the fake nutrition program. Sophia’s foundation paid some of the bills.”
Sophia whispered, “I didn’t know Elena was involved.”
Evan looked at her.
“You knew enough.”
Sophia recoiled.
“What does that mean?”
“You sent my mother information.”
“I sent appointment schedules.”
“You sent photographs.”
Sophia stared at him.
Dante turned.
“What photographs?”
Evan pulled out his phone.
He opened an archived message thread.
There were images of Isabella from foundation events.
Sophia had sent them to Caroline.
Under one image, she had written:
SHE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND HOW PEOPLE SEE HER.
Another:
DANTE IS TOO BLINDED TO FIX THIS.
Isabella closed her eyes.
Sophia began crying.
“I thought Caroline was helping her.”
“You thought humiliating her was help?” Isabella asked.
Sophia had no answer.
Dante looked at Evan.
“What changed?”
“Elena wanted more.”
“How much more?”
“She wanted Isabella isolated.”
The room became quiet.
“She told my mother to make Isabella believe people were laughing at her. Then she started sending messages directly.”
“Why the weight target?”
“Elena weighed one hundred twenty-two pounds when she was engaged to Dante.”
Isabella went still.
There it was.
The number.
Not random.
Not health.
Not beauty.
Replacement.
Someone had been trying to reshape Isabella into a ghost from Dante’s past.
Dante’s expression turned sickened.
He looked at his wife.
She stared at the floor.
“Bella.”
“Don’t.”
He stepped toward her.
“I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
“No. Look at me.”
She did reluctantly.
“I never wanted you to look like Elena.”
“I know.”
“I never wanted you to look like anyone.”
Her eyes filled.
“I know.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“Because I spent six months trying to become a woman you already rejected.”
Dante’s face broke.
He pulled her into his arms.
For several seconds, she resisted.
Then she folded against him.
“I’m so tired,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“I don’t even know when I stopped believing you.”
“That’s what they wanted.”
“I hate that it worked.”
Dante held her tighter.
“It worked because they kept hurting you until being hurt felt normal.”
Sophia covered her mouth.
The words struck her too.
Dante looked at Evan over Isabella’s shoulder.
“What does any of this have to do with my mother?”
Evan’s face changed.
“I don’t know.”
Sophia whispered, “I do.”
Dante released Isabella slowly.
Sophia sank into a chair.
“Your mother knew Elena’s family was stealing from the Romano pension accounts before you did.”
Dante stared.
“My mother died three months before I uncovered it.”
“Yes.”
“She had cancer.”
“Yes.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying she found the records first.”
Dante felt the floor shift beneath him.
Sophia continued.
“Your mother came to me because she didn’t trust the men around your father. She thought someone inside the family was helping the Carusos.”
“Who?”
“I never found out.”
“You knew all these years?”
“I knew she was investigating.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because the week before she died, she made me promise.”
“Promise what?”
“To burn everything.”
Dante’s voice hardened.
“Did you?”
Sophia looked down.
“No.”
Marco stopped typing.
Isabella stared.
Dante said, “Where is it?”
“I hid the files.”
“Where?”
Sophia looked toward him.
“In the foundation archive.”
Dante’s laugh contained no humor.
“You hid evidence about my family inside your charity?”
“I was afraid.”
“Of whom?”
Sophia shook her head.
“I never knew.”
“Then why mention this now?”
“Because Elena knew.”
Dante’s face changed.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
Evan spoke quietly.
“My mother found old boxes in Sophia’s office last year.”
Sophia turned toward him.
“What?”
“She photographed them.”
Sophia stood.
“No.”
Evan nodded.
“She sent the pictures to Elena.”
Dante looked at Marco.
“Get the archive.”
Marco was already calling.
Sophia whispered, “If Elena knows what was in those records…”
“What?”
Sophia’s hands shook.
“She may know who betrayed your mother.”
Dante’s phone buzzed.
A security alert.
Marco checked his device.
His face tightened.
“Foundation archive alarm.”
Dante looked at Sophia.
“When?”
“Thirty seconds ago.”
“Send a team.”
“Already moving.”
Isabella suddenly looked dizzy again.
Dante steadied her.
“We’re leaving.”
“No,” she said.
“This is not negotiable.”
“Dante—”
“You need rest.”
She started to argue, then stopped.
Her shoulders dropped.
“All right.”
He kissed her forehead.
Marco arranged two cars.
One for Isabella and Dr. Levin.
One for Dante.
But Isabella caught Dante’s sleeve before he left.
“Don’t disappear into this.”
He looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t become so angry that you forget why this started.”
He stared at her.
She touched the front of his jacket.
“It started because someone made me believe I was unworthy of being loved.”
Dante’s eyes softened.
“I won’t forget.”
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
At the penthouse, Dr. Levin persuaded Isabella to drink soup.
She hated every spoonful.
Not because she disliked it.
Because every swallow came with a voice.
Too much.
You’ll regret it.
He’ll notice.
She closed her eyes.
Dr. Levin said, “What are you hearing?”
She looked at him.
“How did you know?”
“Because you stopped chewing.”
She gave a weak smile.
“My own thoughts.”
“Are they yours?”
Isabella stared at the bowl.
“No.”
That answer changed something.
She took another spoonful.
An hour later, Dante called.
His voice sounded wrong.
“Bella.”
“What happened?”
“We got to the foundation.”
“And?”
“The archive was empty.”
Sophia, who sat nearby under guard, stood.
“What?”
Dante continued.
“Someone cleared it out before we arrived.”
Sophia’s face collapsed.
“No.”
“Not everything.”
Dante sounded distant.
“One box remained.”
“What was in it?”
“A letter.”
Isabella’s heartbeat quickened.
“From whom?”
“My mother.”
Sophia whispered, “Read it.”
Dante did not.
For several seconds, nothing came through the phone.
Then Isabella heard paper unfolding.
Dante read only the first line.
“Sophia, if anything happens to me, do not trust the woman standing closest to my son.”
Sophia’s hand flew to her mouth.
Isabella looked at her.
“What woman?”
Dante stopped speaking.
“Dante?”
His breathing changed.
“Bella.”
“What?”
“There’s a photograph inside the envelope.”
“Of who?”
May you like
The answer came quietly.
“You.”
