Chapter 12
At first, I thought I imagined it.
Then I heard my name.
“Dominic.”
My eyes opened.
Her voice was barely audible.
But her eyes were open.
I stood.
“Clara.”
A nurse entered almost immediately.
There were questions.
Checks.
Instructions.
I stepped back while the medical staff worked.
Clara watched them calmly, though confusion drifted across her face.
Eventually, the room quieted.
The nurse allowed me to sit again.
Clara looked at me.
“Tommy?”
My throat tightened.
I could not lie.
“He didn’t make it.”
Her eyes closed.
A tear slipped toward her temple.
“I’m sorry.”
I reached for her hand, then stopped myself.
She noticed.
After a moment, she turned her palm upward.
An invitation.
I placed my hand in hers.
We sat quietly.
Then she whispered, “Evelyn.”
“She’s safe.”
Clara’s eyes opened.
“You know?”
“Some of it.”
Her expression changed.
Not fear.
Something more complicated.
Regret, perhaps.
“You looked at my phone.”
“Mateo did.”
“Of course he did.”
That sounded almost like my wife.
I felt something loosen inside me.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She stared at the ceiling.
“Which part?”
“Any of it.”
“Because I didn’t know what was true.”
“You could’ve asked me.”
She turned her head slowly.
“Would you have listened?”
Mateo had asked me the same thing.
Hearing it from Clara hurt more.
“Yes.”
She simply looked at me.
My certainty faded.
“I want to say yes.”
“That’s different.”
I lowered my eyes.
“You’re right.”
She seemed surprised.
Perhaps because Dominic Valente rarely said those words.
I forced myself to continue.
“I’ve been wrong about more than one thing.”
“Dominic, I’m tired.”
“I know.”
“We can talk later.”
“There’s one thing I need to know.”
Her gaze returned to mine.
“Why were you going to Evelyn’s so late?”
Clara hesitated.
“She found Daniel’s letter.”
“I read it.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
“You remember the files?”
“Pieces.”
“There was something else.”
“What?”
She inhaled carefully.
“Evelyn called me yesterday afternoon. She had found a photograph behind one of Daniel’s old account books.”
“A photograph of what?”
“Not what.”
Clara swallowed.
“Who.”
My pulse changed.
“Who was in it?”
She looked toward the door as though making sure we were alone.
Then back at me.
“Your mother.”
I froze.
“My mother knew Evelyn?”
“Apparently.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.”
“Mom died fifteen years ago.”
“Dominic.”
Clara squeezed my fingers weakly.
“There’s more.”
I leaned closer.