Chapter 6 - WHAT ELENA DID
My mother took one look at the photograph on my phone and closed her eyes.
That reaction told me more than any confession.
“You know.”
Elena turned toward the window.
“Isabella—”
“You know who killed Daniel.”
Lucia stood behind me.
Adrian stayed near the door.
Detective Santos had wanted to question Elena alone.
I refused.
No more secrets.
“No more protecting me,” I said.
Elena whispered, “I was protecting myself.”
That surprised me.
“From what?”
“From admitting what I did.”
The room went cold.
I sat beside her.
“Tell me.”
She stared at her hands.
“Daniel came home one night carrying three ledgers and a cassette tape.”
“A cassette?”
“It was 1998.”
Despite everything, Lucia muttered, “Fair.”
Nobody smiled.
Elena continued.
“He said he had enough evidence to destroy several organizations, not just the Valentes.”
“What organizations?”
“He never told me every name.”
“Who knew about the evidence?”
“Daniel. Me. Vincent.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“So Vincent knew.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Daniel planned to meet a federal agent.”
Santos stepped closer.
“Name?”
“Thomas Brennan.”
She went still.
“You know him?” I asked.
“He became deputy director of the Chicago field office.”
“Became?”
“He died six years ago.”
Elena nodded sadly.
“Brennan was one of the few good men left.”
“What happened to Daniel?”
My mother’s hands began to shake.
“The night before the meeting, Vincent came to our apartment.”
“To help?”
“I thought so.”
Her eyes filled.
“He begged Daniel not to testify.”
“Why?”
“Because their father would be implicated.”
Dante’s grandfather.
The Moretti family.
“Daniel refused.”
Elena’s voice dropped.
“They fought.”
“Physically?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Daniel told Vincent he had hidden copies of everything.”
Adrian crossed his arms.
“And then?”
“Vincent left.”
I waited.
The silence stretched.
“Mom.”
Elena began crying.
“Then Enzo Valente came.”
Adrian’s face sharpened.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“What did he want?”
“The ledgers.”
“Did Daniel give them to him?”
“No.”
Adrian’s expression was unreadable.
Elena looked at me.
“Your father told Enzo he would rather die.”
My throat closed.
“And?”
“Enzo pulled a gun.”
Adrian whispered, “No.”
Elena shook her head.
“He didn’t shoot.”
I stared.
“Then who did?”
My mother looked straight at me.
“I did.”
Lucia gasped.
The room seemed to tilt.
“What?”
“I shot Daniel.”
My body went numb.
Adrian stepped forward.
Santos said nothing.
I heard only the hospital monitor.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
“You killed my father?”
“I thought Enzo was going to shoot him.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Elena,” Santos said carefully, “explain.”
“Enzo and Daniel were fighting. The gun fell. I grabbed it.”
Her lips trembled.
“Daniel lunged toward Enzo.”
“So you shot your own husband?”
“I thought I was saving him.”
“Who?”
“Daniel.”
I stared at her.
She shook her head frantically.
“No. You don’t understand. Enzo had men outside. If Daniel killed him, none of us would have left that apartment alive.”
My voice came out hollow.
“So you shot Daniel to save him from being killed?”
“I fired toward his shoulder.”
Tears rolled down her face.
“He turned.”
She covered her mouth.
“The bullet hit his chest.”
I stood.
Lucia caught my hand.
I pulled away.
“You murdered him.”
“It was an accident.”
“Then why did you lie?”
“Because Enzo helped me.”
Adrian looked disgusted.
“My father covered it up.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Elena stared at him.
“Because Daniel’s death benefited him.”
The truth landed heavily.
“He took the ledgers?” Santos asked.
“Only the originals Daniel had with him.”
“But copies remained.”
“Yes.”
“The key.”
“Yes.”
I paced away from the bed.
Every memory of my childhood felt contaminated.
The father who raised me.
The mother who vanished.
The biological father I had never known.
All connected to people whose names I had spent my life avoiding.
“What happened after?”
“Elena said, “Vincent believed Enzo killed Daniel.”
“And you let him.”
“I was terrified.”
“So Vincent spent almost thirty years blaming Adrian’s family for something you did?”
Her face collapsed.
“Yes.”
Adrian looked away.
Suddenly Vincent’s obsession made terrible sense.
Not justified.
But understandable.
“He thinks the Valentes murdered his brother,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“And Dante grew up believing that.”
“Yes.”
“Then Emma—”
“Was revenge.”
My stomach turned.
Adrian’s fists tightened.
“My daughter was seven months old.”
Elena whispered, “Hatred doesn’t care about age.”
Santos’s phone rang.
She stepped outside.
I looked at my mother.
“Why fake your death?”
“Vincent found me thirteen years ago.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he want?”
“The key.”
“You had hidden it.”
“Yes.”
“He threatened us?”
“He sent me photographs of you leaving school. Lucia at the cardiologist.”
My anger faltered.
“He said he would kill both of you if I didn’t give him Daniel’s evidence.”
“So you disappeared.”
“I staged the accident with help from Brennan.”
“Why not take us?”
“Because Vincent would follow.”
Lucia’s voice shook.
“So you just left us?”
“I watched you.”
“What?”
Elena nodded.
“From a distance.”
Lucia stood.
“You watched?”
“I knew where you lived.”
“You knew Isabella was working two jobs?”
“Yes.”
“You knew we almost lost our apartment?”
Elena started crying.
“Yes.”
Lucia’s face hardened.
“And you still stayed away.”
“I was afraid.”
“So was I.”
That silenced Elena.
Lucia turned and walked out.
I followed.
She made it to the stairwell before breaking down.
I held her.
“She watched us.”
“I know.”
“She knew.”
“I know.”
“Why wasn’t I enough to make her come back?”
I pulled her closer.
“Don’t do that.”
“But—”
“This was about her fear. Not your worth.”
Lucia cried against my shoulder.
For years, I had imagined what it would feel like to have our mother back.
I never imagined I would hate her and love her at the same time.
Later that afternoon, Dr. Benjamin Cole arrived.
Lucia’s surgery had been moved up.
Twenty-four hours.
“Her condition won’t tolerate much delay,” he said.
I stared at the estimate.
More money than I could earn in years.
Adrian placed a document beside it.
“Paid.”
I looked at him.
“No.”
“Isabella.”
“I told you—”
“This has nothing to do with forgiveness.”
“It has everything to do with control.”
His face tightened.
“My daughter is alive because you climbed into garbage without hesitating.”
“That doesn’t mean you own my life.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He looked at the bruise fading on my cheek.
“Yes.”
The answer was quiet.
“I’ve thought about what I did every day.”
For once, I had nothing to say.
He continued.
“If Lucia dies because you refuse money from me, you’ll spend the rest of your life hating me anyway.”
I almost smiled despite myself.
“That’s manipulative.”
“Yes.”
“At least you admit it.”
“I’m trying.”
I signed the authorization.
Lucia went into surgery the following morning.
I sat in the waiting room with Elena, Santos, and Adrian.
No one spoke much.
After three hours, Dr. Cole came out.
“There was a complication.”
I stood so quickly the chair fell.
“What happened?”
“Her rhythm became unstable.”
My vision blurred.
“But we corrected it.”
I grabbed the table.
“She’s alive?”
“She’s alive.”
I started crying.
Adrian’s hand touched my back.
Lightly.
Not claiming.
Not pulling.
Just there.
For once, I didn’t move away.
Then Santos’s phone rang.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
She listened.
Looked at Adrian.
Then at me.
“We have a problem.”
“What?”
“Police just executed a search warrant at the Valente estate.”
Adrian frowned.
“For what?”
Santos hesitated.
“The murder of Sofia Valente.”
Adrian went completely still.
His late wife.
Emma’s mother.
Santos continued.
“They found a vial of potassium chloride hidden inside your private safe.”
Adrian stared at her.
“I didn’t put it there.”
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“Your prints are on it.”
I looked at Adrian.
For the first time, I understood how he must have felt when he saw me carrying Emma through the rain.
Evidence.
Fear.
Anger.
A story that looked obvious.
Police officers entered the waiting room.
“Adrian Valente?”
He didn’t resist.
They handcuffed him.
Before they took him away, he looked at me.
“I didn’t kill Sofia.”
I remembered standing in his basement saying almost the same thing.
I didn’t hurt Emma.
He had not believed me.
Now everyone in the room waited to see if I would believe him.
I stepped closer.
“I know.”
Something changed in his eyes.
Then the officers led him away.
Five minutes later, my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A video.
Dante Moretti stood in darkness.
He smiled into the camera.
“Now you understand, Isabella.”
He held up the stolen brass key.
“Adrian loses his wife.”
Another image appeared beside him.
Emma.
“Then his daughter.”
My blood froze.
“And when Lucia wakes up…”
May you like
Dante smiled wider.
“…you lose your sister.”
