Chapter 8
I reached into the small leather purse attached to my catering belt and removed my phone.
“I kept the voicemail.”
Luca stared at me.
“What voicemail?”
“Six weeks after the collapse, I called your foundation after seeing the public appeal for information. A man called me back.”
I opened the encrypted audio folder.
My friend Marco from the kitchen had once teased me for saving every schedule, receipt, and manager message.
He did not know what it was like to have an insurance company claim a hospital conversation never happened after my father died.
Since then, I kept records.
I pressed play.
A younger version of Gabriel’s voice filled the room.
“Ms. Carter, this is Gabriel Costa, security director for the Moretti family. We have reviewed your claim regarding the Ashwood incident. The family has verified the identity of the official rescue personnel. Your continued attempts to contact the child are causing distress. Do not call the hospital, foundation, or family again. If you believe you are owed compensation, direct a written request to counsel.”
The recording ended.
No one spoke.
Rain continued tapping against the window.
Luca looked at Gabriel.
“You told her to stop.”
Gabriel’s expression did not change.
“At the time, we received dozens of false claims. People wanted reward money.”
“I never requested money,” I said.
“You mentioned a promise to a traumatized child.”
“Because I made one.”
“We were protecting Sophia.”
Luca’s gaze hardened.
“From the woman who pulled her from the river?”
“We did not know that was true.”
Vincent held out his hand.
“The letters.”
I looked at him.
“You said you wrote twice.”
I opened the document folder on my phone.
“Certified mail. One to the foundation. One to the security office.”
“Receipts?”
“Yes.”
Vincent’s eyebrows rose.
May you like
“Ms. Carter, I say this professionally and with admiration: you are a deeply inconvenient person to lie to.”
I sent the scans to him.
