Chapter 13
My eyes moved toward the photograph.
THE WRONG THIEF PAID THE PRICE.
Dante looked as though someone had struck him.
“What did you say?”
Sophia sank slowly into the chair.
“Eleven years ago, money disappeared from one of your father’s private accounts. Nearly six million dollars.”
Dante said nothing.
“Evidence pointed toward Lucia.”
“What evidence?”
“Transfers. Documents. Her signature.”
“And?”
“Jewelry belonging to your grandmother was found in her luggage.”
My stomach tightened.
A stolen family heirloom.
Found among a woman’s belongings.
I looked at Dante.
He understood at exactly the same moment.
His face drained of color.
“No.”
Sophia covered her mouth.
“I tried to tell myself what happened to Isabella was different.”
Dante stepped backward.
“No.”
“Dante—”
“You watched them find the necklace in Isabella’s bag.”
“Yes.”
“And you knew?”
“I didn’t know Carlo planted it.”
“That’s not what I asked!”
His voice shook the room.
Sophia flinched.
“You had seen it before.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
“Yes.”
Dante stared at her.
“What happened to my mother?”
Sophia closed her eyes.
“Your father believed the evidence.”
Dante’s voice dropped.
“What happened?”
“He sent her away.”
“Where?”
“Italy.”
“And then?”
Sophia opened her eyes.
“She disappeared.”
Dante stared at her.
“You told me she died.”
“Your father told everyone she died.”
“Did you see a body?”
“No.”
“A death certificate?”
“No.”
“Then why the hell did you tell me my mother was dead?”
“Because your father ordered it!”
The silence afterward was terrible.
Dante turned away.
I had never seen him look young before.
But suddenly he did.
Not Dante Moretti, head of a family people feared.
Just a son discovering that the story of his mother’s death had been a lie.
I walked toward him.
He looked at me.
“I did exactly what he did.”
I knew what he meant.
“Dante—”
“My father found evidence and chose the evidence over the woman he loved.”
His voice broke slightly.
“And eleven years later, I stood in that salon and did the same thing to you.”
“You stopped before the ending became the same.”
“Barely.”
I took his hand.
“Then make sure the rest of the story isn’t.”
His eyes sharpened.
That was the moment Dante returned.
He looked at Marco.
“Find my mother.”
---
It took nine days.
Nine days of bank records.
Old travel manifests.
Property searches.
Private investigators.
Names that had been changed.
Accounts that had disappeared.