Chapter 2 - The Woman Whose Name Was on the Leak
"That's not me!"
Anna grabbed the tablet from Victor's hands.
The woman on the screen had her face.
Her clothes.
Even her medical bag.
But Anna noticed something the others hadn't.
The woman was wearing her mother's necklace.
And Anna knew exactly where that necklace had been buried.
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Then Dante reached for the tablet.
"Play it again."
Victor hesitated.
"Sir—"
"Again."
The security chief restarted the footage.
Anna stood beside Dante's wheelchair, her heart hammering against her ribs.
The recording showed the same empty corridor.
The same timestamp.
11:42 P.M.
The same woman entering the medical records room.
She wore Anna's cream-colored cardigan, carried an identical black medical bag, and had the same auburn hair.
When she turned toward the camera, the resemblance was extraordinary.
But Anna wasn't looking at her face anymore.
She was looking at her neck.
A small silver pendant rested against the woman's collarbone.
An oval locket.
A tiny blue stone.
Anna knew that necklace.
She had held it in her hands the morning they buried her mother.
She had placed it inside the coffin herself.
"Pause it."
Victor stopped the recording.
Anna pointed toward the screen.
"Zoom in."
The image enlarged.
There it was.
The necklace.
Her mother's necklace.
Anna staggered backward.
Dante immediately noticed.
"Anna?"
She shook her head.
"That isn't possible."
"What isn't?"
She pointed at the pendant.
"My mother owned that necklace."
Dante examined the image.
"Did she give it to you?"
"No."
"Then how does this woman have it?"
Anna looked at him.
"Because I buried it with her."
The silence that followed seemed to swallow the entire room.
Victor slowly lowered the tablet.
"Your mother?"
Anna nodded.
"She died eleven years ago."
Dante studied her expression.
"Are you certain it's the same necklace?"
Anna almost laughed.
There were some things a person never forgot.
The smell of a childhood home.
The sound of a parent's laughter.
The last thing someone wore before disappearing from your life forever.
"My father gave it to her on their twentieth anniversary. He had a blue sapphire placed inside the pendant because blue was her favorite color."
She swallowed.
"There's an engraving on the back."
"What does it say?"
Anna hesitated.
"Always come home."
Dante watched her carefully.
Victor looked between them.
"Miss Foster, there could be thousands of similar necklaces."
"Not with that stone."
Anna pointed at the screen again.
"The setting is damaged. See the small gap on the left side? My mother dropped it when I was thirteen. My father offered to repair it, but she refused."
"Why?"
"She said imperfect things could still be beautiful."
Anna's voice broke.
Dante reached toward her.
She took his hand without thinking.
He squeezed it.
"Victor, I want the original footage."
"Of course."
"And I want to know who had access to that corridor."
Victor nodded.
"There's another problem."
Dante's expression darkened.
"Naturally."
"The original recording is missing."
Anna stared at him.
"What?"
"The security system shows that the footage was replaced at approximately two this morning."
Dante became very still.
"Replaced?"
Victor nodded.
"The recording we're watching was uploaded into the security archive. Whoever did it had administrative access."
"How many people have that access?"
"Four."
"Names."
Victor hesitated.
"Yourself. Me. Your brother."
He stopped.
Dante raised an eyebrow.
"And?"
"Your uncle."
Anna felt Dante's hand tighten around hers.
For the first time since she'd entered his employment, she saw something approaching genuine fear in his eyes.
Not fear for himself.
Recognition.
As though a terrible possibility he'd spent years refusing to consider had finally stepped into the light.
Thirty minutes later, Anna sat inside Dante's private office while Victor investigated the footage.
Dante had insisted she remain with him.
She hadn't argued.
Outside, the estate had transformed into something resembling a military operation.
Security personnel moved through the corridors.
Phones rang continuously.
Dante's legal team had already begun contacting the news organizations publishing his confidential medical information.
And somewhere beyond the estate's enormous gates, reporters were gathering.
Anna could see them through the office windows.
Camera crews.
News vans.
People who knew nothing about Dante beyond his wealth, his wheelchair, and whatever sensational information someone had decided to sell them.
She hated every one of them.
"Stop looking."
Dante's voice interrupted her thoughts.
Anna turned.
He sat behind his desk, examining a printed copy of the leaked records.
"Looking at what?"
"The reporters."
She folded her arms.
"They're waiting for you."
"They've been waiting for six years."
"That doesn't bother you?"
"It bothers me considerably less than the woman sitting across from me looking as though she's about to be executed."
Anna attempted a smile.
It failed.
Dante placed the documents aside.
"Come here."
She hesitated.
Then approached his desk.
He gestured toward the chair beside him.
She sat.
"Tell me about your mother."
Anna looked down.
"Why?"
"Because somebody just used something connected to her to frame you."
She rubbed her palms together.
"My mother was a nurse."
Dante waited.
"She worked at a private medical facility outside Seattle. She loved her job. She used to tell me that the most important thing a nurse could give a patient wasn't medicine."
"What was it?"
"A choice."
Dante's expression softened.
Anna smiled faintly.
"She said people became frightened when they felt they had no control over their lives. Sometimes letting someone decide what they wanted for breakfast mattered more than an expensive treatment."
"She sounds like an intelligent woman."
"She was."
Anna stared at her hands.
"When I was nineteen, she started acting strangely."
Dante leaned forward.
"How?"
"She stopped talking about work. She changed her phone number. She started checking the locks every night."
"Did she explain why?"
"No."
Anna hesitated.
"Once, I heard her arguing with someone on the phone. She said she wasn't going to falsify any more records."
Dante's expression changed.
"What records?"
"I never found out."
"What happened next?"
Anna closed her eyes.
"Three weeks later, she was dead."
Dante said nothing.
"The police said she lost control of her car on a mountain road. They found her vehicle at the bottom of a ravine."
"Was there an investigation?"
"Yes. They ruled it an accident."
"And you believed them?"
Anna looked toward the windows.
"For eleven years, I tried to."
Dante remained silent for a long moment.
Then he asked a question that made her stomach turn.
"What was the name of the medical facility?"
Anna looked back at him.
"Westbridge Rehabilitation Center."
The color disappeared from Dante's face.
She noticed immediately.
"What?"
He didn't answer.
"Dante?"
He reached toward the telephone on his desk.
"Victor. Come to my office."
Anna leaned forward.
"What's wrong?"
Dante ended the call.
Then he looked directly at her.
"Westbridge was where I received treatment after my accident."
Anna stared at him.
The room suddenly felt much smaller.
"Eleven years ago?"
"No. Six."
She exhaled.
For one ridiculous moment, she felt relieved.
Then Dante continued.
"But my family owned the facility for almost twenty years."
Victor arrived carrying three folders.
Dante didn't waste time.
"Find everything we have on Westbridge Rehabilitation Center."
Victor frowned.
"Westbridge?"
"Immediately."
"Sir, that facility was sold four years ago."
"I know."
"Your brother handled the sale."
Dante's eyes narrowed.
"Of course he did."
Anna watched the exchange.
Something was happening beneath the surface.
Something both men understood and neither wanted to explain.
"Who is your brother?" she asked quietly.
Dante looked at her.
"Lorenzo Moretti."
She recognized the name.
Everyone in Seattle recognized the name.
Lorenzo Moretti was the public face of the Moretti family's legitimate business empire.
He attended charity galas, appeared in business magazines, and donated extraordinary amounts of money to medical research.
He also happened to be Dante's younger brother.
And according to the staff, he had spent the last six years making decisions on Dante's behalf.
Anna had met him only once.
She hadn't liked him.
The memory returned immediately.
It had been her second week at the estate.
Anna was helping Dante review his rehabilitation schedule when Lorenzo entered without knocking.
He wore a navy suit and an expensive smile.
"Brother."
Dante didn't look up.
"You're early."
"I thought I'd check on you."
"I'm sitting right here."
Lorenzo laughed.
Then he noticed Anna.
"And you must be the new nurse."
She stood.
"Anna Foster."
He shook her hand.
His grip lasted a second too long.
"Another Anna?"
She frowned.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing."
He released her hand.
"Just an old family coincidence."
Dante looked up sharply.
"What coincidence?"
Lorenzo smiled.
"Forget it."
He turned toward Anna.
"How's our patient behaving?"
Anna remembered the irritation she'd felt.
"Dante isn't a child."
The smile disappeared from Lorenzo's face.
For one brief moment, she saw something cold behind his eyes.
Then he laughed.
"Of course not."
He looked at Dante.
"I think we finally found someone who can handle you."
Dante didn't smile.
"Get out, Lorenzo."
His brother raised both hands.
"Always a pleasure."
As Lorenzo walked toward the door, he glanced back at Anna.
And whispered something she hadn't understood at the time.
"Be careful what you promise him."
Now, sitting inside Dante's office, Anna remembered those words.
Another Anna.
An old family coincidence.
Her heart began beating faster.
"Dante."
He looked toward her.
"When I first met Lorenzo, he said something strange."
"What?"
"He called me another Anna."
Victor stopped opening his folder.
Dante's expression hardened.
"Are you certain?"
"Yes."
"What exactly did he say?"
She repeated the conversation.
By the time she finished, Victor was standing completely still.
Dante turned toward him.
"Tell me."
Victor looked uncomfortable.
"Sir, I don't think—"
"Tell me."
Victor exhaled.
"Your father employed a nurse named Annabelle Foster at Westbridge."
Anna stopped breathing.
"My mother's name was Annabelle."
Dante stared at her.
Victor continued reluctantly.
"She worked with several private patients connected to the family."
Anna gripped the arms of her chair.
"My mother never mentioned the Morettis."
Dante looked toward Victor.
"Why didn't I know about this?"
"Your father handled those arrangements personally."
"How personally?"
Victor didn't answer.
Dante's voice became dangerously quiet.
"Victor."
The security chief looked toward Anna.
"Miss Foster, your mother wasn't simply an employee."
Anna felt cold.
"What does that mean?"
Victor swallowed.
"She was involved in a confidential medical investigation."
Dante leaned forward.
"What investigation?"
Victor hesitated.
Then his phone rang.
He glanced at the caller.
"Your brother."
Dante extended his hand.
"Give it to me."
Victor passed him the phone.
Dante answered without greeting.
"What do you want, Lorenzo?"
Anna couldn't hear the response.
But she watched Dante's expression.
At first, irritation.
Then disbelief.
Then something colder.
"No."
A pause.
"I don't care what the board voted."
Another pause.
"She's not leaving."
Anna sat straighter.
Dante's jaw tightened.
"Then come here and tell me yourself."
He ended the call.
Victor immediately looked concerned.
"What happened?"
Dante placed the phone on his desk.
"My brother has called an emergency meeting."
"About the medical records?"
"About my legal capacity to continue managing the foundation."
Anna stared at him.
"What?"
Dante laughed without humor.
"Apparently, my confidential medical information has convinced several board members that I require additional oversight."
Victor swore quietly.
Dante looked toward Anna.
"And they've decided that the woman accused of leaking those records should be removed from my employment immediately."
Anna felt her stomach drop.
"That's exactly what whoever framed me wanted."
Dante nodded.
"Yes."
He turned toward Victor.
"Which means we're going to find out who benefits."
By four that afternoon, Anna's photograph was everywhere.
Her name appeared beneath headlines accusing her of betraying a vulnerable billionaire.
Anonymous sources described her as ambitious.
Manipulative.
A woman who had supposedly used her position to obtain private information about a wealthy patient.
One article claimed she had been romantically involved with Dante.
Another suggested she'd been promised a substantial financial reward.
Anna read three stories before Dante took her phone away.
"Stop."
She looked at him.
"They're destroying my career."
"I know."
"My license—"
"Your license hasn't been suspended."
"Not yet!"
Her voice cracked.
Dante placed her phone on his desk.
"Anna."
She stood abruptly.
"You don't understand."
His expression changed.
"Then explain it to me."
She turned away.
For six weeks, she'd been strong.
Professional.
Patient.
She'd listened to his frustrations, challenged his assumptions, and helped him reclaim pieces of his independence.
Now she was the one falling apart.
"My father died when I was twenty-three."
Dante remained silent.
"My mother was already gone. My sister was sixteen. I worked two jobs to finish nursing school while raising her."
She wiped her cheeks angrily.
"I spent years building my career. Years proving I deserved to be trusted."
Her voice trembled.
"And somebody just destroyed everything in a single afternoon."
Dante moved his wheelchair closer.
"Look at me."
She shook her head.
"Anna."
She turned.
He extended his hand.
She took it.
"You're not facing this alone."
Her eyes filled.
"You barely know me."
"I know enough."
"You saw the video."
"I saw someone who wanted us to believe she was you."
Anna stared at him.
"And the financial records?"
"We haven't established that they're genuine."
"What if everyone believes them?"
Dante's expression hardened.
"Then everyone can be wrong."
Something inside Anna broke.
She started crying.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
Just exhausted tears that she'd been holding back since seeing her name on those documents.
Dante gently squeezed her hand.
She lowered herself into the chair beside him.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then Dante said something unexpected.
"Six years ago, I woke up in a hospital and discovered that my family had already decided what the rest of my life would look like."
Anna looked at him.
"My brother took over most of my business responsibilities. My uncle managed my medical decisions. Every time I questioned something, they told me I was being unreasonable."
He paused.
"Eventually, I started wondering whether they were right."
Anna shook her head.
"They weren't."
"I know that now."
His eyes met hers.
"Because someone finally made me put on my own damn jacket."
Despite everything, she laughed.
Dante smiled.
And for a moment, the world outside his office stopped existing.
At six thirty, Victor returned.
His expression was grim.
"We found the payment."
Anna stood.
"What payment?"
"The one mentioned in the articles."
Dante turned toward him.
"Explain."
Victor placed a bank statement on the desk.
"A transfer of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars was deposited into an account registered under Miss Foster's name."
Anna stared at the document.
"That's not my account."
Victor nodded.
"We suspected as much."
Dante examined the statement.
"When was it opened?"
"Three months ago."
Anna looked up sharply.
"Three months?"
Victor nodded.
"Approximately six weeks before you accepted your position here."
The room fell silent.
Dante slowly lowered the paper.
"Someone planned this before Anna arrived."
"Yes."
Anna felt nauseated.
"Who?"
Victor opened another folder.
"We traced the account registration to a private financial management company."
Dante read the name.
His expression darkened.
"Moretti Capital Holdings."
Victor nodded.
Anna looked between them.
"Your family's company?"
"One of them."
Dante turned the page.
Then stopped.
Victor watched him carefully.
"There's more, sir."
Dante raised his eyes.
"How much more?"
"The account was authorized by someone using an executive access code."
"Whose?"
Victor hesitated.
"Your uncle's."
Dante closed his eyes.
For several seconds, he didn't move.
Then he opened them.
"Get the car ready."
Victor frowned.
"Where are we going?"
"To see my uncle."
Anna immediately stood.
"I'm coming."
Dante looked at her.
"No."
She folded her arms.
"Excuse me?"
"This could be dangerous."
"And someone used my dead mother's necklace to frame me. I think I've earned the right to hear the explanation."
Dante stared at her.
Anna stared back.
Finally, he sighed.
"You're incredibly stubborn."
"Occupational hazard."
Victor almost smiled.
Then his phone vibrated.
He checked the message.
His expression changed.
"Sir."
Dante looked toward him.
"What?"
"We have a visitor."
"Who?"
Victor hesitated.
"Your uncle."
Dante became still.
"Where is he?"
"Downstairs."
"Tell him I'll be there in five minutes."
Victor didn't move.
"There's something else."
Anna felt a familiar chill.
"What?"
Victor looked directly at her.
"He brought someone with him."
Dante frowned.
"Who?"
Victor turned the tablet around.
A live security image appeared.
An older man in an expensive gray suit stood inside the estate's entrance hall.
Beside him was a woman.
She wore a dark coat.
Her auburn hair fell across her shoulders.
And around her neck hung a silver necklace with a tiny blue stone.
Anna grabbed the edge of the desk.
The woman slowly raised her face toward the security camera.
Then she smiled.
Anna recognized that smile.
She had last seen it eleven years earlier.
At her mother's funeral.
Dante looked at her.
"Anna? Who is that?"
Anna opened her mouth.
But before she could answer, Victor received another message.
He read it.
Then looked up.
May you like
"The woman says her name is Annabelle Foster."
And downstairs, someone began opening the office's private elevator.
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