Chapter 7 - A Name From Her Father’s Past
Beatrice read the report twice.
Her mother had died six years earlier.
Official cause: cardiac arrest caused by an undiagnosed congenital condition.
The original toxicology page said something else.
Digitalis poisoning.
Beatrice looked at Thomas.
“You knew?”
“No.”
His devastation looked genuine.
“Who had access to her?”
Thomas asked.
Beatrice thought.
Doctors.
Nurses.
Friends.
Family.
Chloe.
Gabriel.
Her mother’s longtime attorney.
Then she remembered.
One man had visited repeatedly during her mother’s final month.
A family friend.
Dr. Samuel Voss.
Thomas went pale.
“Samuel?”
“You know him.”
“He worked with me.”
Adrian swore softly.
Thomas explained Samuel Voss had helped build Meridian’s financial architecture before turning informant.
Or claiming to.
“He died eighteen years ago,” Thomas said.
Gabriel looked at him.
“Did you see the body?”
Thomas did not answer.
Adrian laughed without humor.
“Apparently nobody in this story stays dead.”
They traced Voss.
No current records.
But one shell company tied to him had recently purchased a private maternity clinic.
Beatrice stared at the address.
It was the clinic Gabriel had chosen for her delivery.
Her blood chilled.
“You selected that hospital.”
Gabriel looked horrified.
“My doctor recommended it.”
“Who?”
“Dr. Harlan.”
Thomas searched the ledger fragments.
Harlan appeared.
Meridian.
Beatrice stood.
“They planned my delivery.”
“Yes,” Adrian said.
“They wanted the baby from the beginning.”
Gabriel looked like he might destroy the room.
Beatrice stopped him.
“No more rage.”
He looked at her.
“We use what they expect.”
“What?”
“They think I’ll deliver there.”
Adrian understood first.
“You want to bait them.”
“I want them exposed.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“You’re not bait.”
Beatrice’s eyes flashed.
“I’m also not your prisoner.”
Silence.
Gabriel nodded once.
“Then tell me the plan.”
That was the first time he truly asked.
Over the next week, they constructed a false medical emergency.
Records would indicate Beatrice had complications.
She would appear to be transferred to the Meridian-controlled clinic.
Meanwhile federal investigators contacted through Adrian’s legitimate attorneys would receive evidence.
Not all law enforcement could be trusted.
Thomas knew which prosecutors had never appeared in Meridian records.
Beatrice insisted on independent protection.
Gabriel agreed.
Chloe remained nearby.
The sisters barely spoke.
Finally Chloe entered Beatrice’s room one evening.
“I don’t expect forgiveness.”
“Good.”
Chloe nodded.
“I loved you.”
Beatrice looked at her.
“Then why?”
“I hated being the broken sister.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I wanted one thing you had.”
“So you chose my husband?”
“I thought if he wanted me for one second, maybe I wasn’t the failure everyone thought I was.”
Beatrice stared.
“That is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Chloe cried.
“I know.”
“The kiss was his fault too.”
“I know.”
“But you were my sister.”
“I know.”
Beatrice looked away.
“I can’t forgive you today.”
Chloe nodded.
“Okay.”
“Maybe not tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“But if you want to become someone I can know again, start now.”
Chloe cried harder.
Beatrice did not hug her.
Not yet.
That night, Gabriel approached Beatrice on the balcony.
“You’re cold.”
“I’m fine.”
He resisted offering his coat without asking.
“Can I?”
She looked at him.
Then nodded.
He placed it around her shoulders.
Small.
Simple.
Different.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For Chloe?”
“For Chloe. For your father. For the security. For every time I called control protection.”
Beatrice stared into the darkness.
“I don’t know whether our marriage survives.”
“I know.”
“You may lose me.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get to stop that.”
Gabriel swallowed.
“I know.”
She looked at him.
For the first time, his love did not sound like a threat.
Her phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A photograph arrived.
Her mother.
Alive.
Timestamped three days before her supposed death.
Standing beside Samuel Voss.
Then another image appeared.
Voss was not alone.
Beside him stood a younger Vittorio Rossi.
Gabriel’s father.
On the back of the scanned photograph was a handwritten sentence:
THE WRONG FATHER STARTED THE WAR.
Then Beatrice’s phone began ringing.
May you like
The caller ID displayed a name no one expected.
VITTORIO ROSSI.
