Chapter 4 - Sofia's Secret
Dante read the message three times.
We were sitting in my mother's apartment that afternoon, the old photograph resting between us on the kitchen table.
He had changed out of the tuxedo from the engagement party, but exhaustion remained in the shadows beneath his eyes.
"She knew," he said.
"Knew what?"
"I don't know."
"That's not very reassuring."
"No."
I looked at Sofia's handwriting again.
Especially if Lorenzo ever tells you otherwise.
"Could your mother have distrusted him?"
Dante leaned back.
"My mother distrusted almost everyone."
"Even family?"
"Especially family."
There was no bitterness in his voice.
Only familiarity.
"My father believed loyalty was something blood guaranteed. My mother believed loyalty had to be earned every morning."
"I think I would have liked her."
"You would have."
The certainty caught me.
"How do you know?"
His gaze moved toward the photograph.
"Because apparently she liked you."
I smiled despite myself.
The front door opened an hour later.
Mother stood there with Marco behind her.
I rushed up.
"What are you doing out of the hospital?"
"Being discharged."
"You didn't call me."
"I called Mr. Moretti."
I stared at Dante.
He lifted both hands.
"She threatened to take a taxi."
"Traitor," I muttered.
Mother kissed my cheek.
"Efficient traitor."
Once she was settled on the sofa, I showed her Sofia's note.
Her expression softened.
"I'd forgotten about that."
"You forgot a warning written on the back?"
"I forgot which photograph she wrote it on."
"That's somehow worse."
Mother smiled.
Then Dante asked gently, "Mrs. Carter, what did my mother mean?"
She grew serious.
"Your mother learned something near the end of her life."
"About Lorenzo?"
"About the foundation."
Dante went still.
"What?"
"I never knew the details. She was careful not to involve me. But she believed charitable accounts were being used improperly."
"For what?"
"I don't know."
That answer frustrated him.
I could tell from the way his jaw tightened.
But he didn't push.
Mother continued.
"Your mother wanted the foundation separated from the Moretti businesses. Completely. She thought charitable money should never depend on family politics."
Dante looked down.
"She told me something similar once."
"When?"
"Shortly before she died."
"What did she say?" I asked.
He was quiet for so long that I wondered whether he would answer.
Finally, he said, "'Build something no one has to fear you to respect.'"
The sentence seemed to change the room.
It didn't fit the version of Dante that newspapers occasionally hinted at.
It fit the man who had sat with me in the kitchen while I cried.
"Did you?"
He glanced at me.
"Did I what?"
"Build it?"
His smile held no humor.
"I'm trying."
That evening, Dante's attorneys began reviewing the trust.
He didn't involve me in every detail.
I appreciated that.
For once, he didn't simply take over.
Instead, he asked what I wanted.
"I want to know whether my mother's treatment is secure."
"It is."
"Because of you?"
"No. The hospital reinstated treatment pending review. Your mother's care won't be interrupted."
"And the money?"
"That may take longer."
"I don't care about the money."
Dante studied me.
"Two hundred fifty thousand dollars isn't nothing."
"I didn't earn it."
"Apparently my mother wanted your family to have it."
"Medical care. Not a fortune."
"Those may be different things legally."
"Then let the lawyers decide."
A faint approval appeared in his eyes.
"Agreed."
The next complication came from Vanessa.
She called me.
I almost didn't answer.
But curiosity won.
"Hello?"
"Elena."
Her voice sounded different.
No audience.
No champagne.
No superiority.
"I owe you an apology."
I didn't respond.
She continued.
"I told my father's office to review the payments."
"So you did interfere."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Silence.
"Because I was jealous."
The bluntness surprised me.
"I knew Dante cared about you."
"He was helping my mother."
"I know that now."
"You knew it then."
Another silence.
"Perhaps."
I closed my eyes.
"I don't understand what you want from me."
"I want you to know I did not order anyone to stop treatment."
"Then who did?"
"I don't know."
"Why should I believe you?"
"You shouldn't."
That answer surprised me more than anything else.
Vanessa exhaled shakily.
"But Dante should investigate my father's office."
"Your father?"
"My request went through Bennett Holdings because our family manages several Moretti Foundation investments."
I sat straighter.
"Why?"
"Because the engagement wasn't only personal."
There was sadness in her voice now.
"It connected two families that have done business together for decades."
"Was Dante aware of that?"
"Of course."
"But?"
"But I don't think he knew how important the marriage was to my father."
I remembered Vanessa's confidence at the engagement party.
For the first time, I wondered how much of it had been armor.
"What happened after you asked for the review?"
"My father's chief financial officer called Lorenzo Moretti."
My pulse quickened.
"How do you know?"
"I checked the phone records this morning."
"Why are you telling me?"
"Because somebody used my jealousy as an opportunity."
That sentence stayed with me.
Vanessa continued.
"And because I don't like being used any more than you do."
After the call, I told Dante everything.
He listened without interruption.
Then he made one call to Marco.
"Find out when Lorenzo returned to New York."
Marco answered within minutes.
Dante listened.
His expression changed.
"When?"
He ended the call.
"What?" I asked.
"Lorenzo arrived yesterday morning."
"The day of the engagement."
"Yes."
"Where is he?"
"No one knows."
The answer should have frightened me.
Instead, it made the mystery feel suddenly tangible.
Someone had known about Sofia's trust.
Someone had waited years.
And something about my mother's account becoming active again had apparently mattered.
That night, while going through old foundation correspondence, I found a letter that had never been opened.
It was addressed to my mother.
The postmark was dated sixteen years earlier.
She stared at it.
"I've never seen that."
The return address belonged to a law firm that no longer existed.
Inside was a single page.
Mother read it first.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
"What?"
She passed it to Dante.
He read.
Then looked at me.
"Elena."
"What does it say?"
He handed me the letter.
It informed Margaret Carter that Sofia Moretti's medical trust had been amended.
Not merely to provide health expenses.
But to appoint Margaret as temporary custodian of certain foundation records if irregularities were ever discovered.
Attached was a reference number.
Dante entered it into his laptop.
A restricted archive appeared.
For several seconds, none of us spoke.
Then the file opened.
There was only one document inside.
A scanned letter from Sofia.
May you like
The first sentence read:
If you are reading this, then someone has tried to erase the Carter trust, and that means I was right.
