Chapter 4 - The Night They Came for Sofia
Claire read Isabelle’s letter four times.
The words never changed.
Do not trust anyone simply because they share your blood.
Adrian stood across from her in the library, his expression unreadable.
Elena had taken Sofia upstairs.
That left Claire alone with the man who might be her uncle.
The mafia boss.
The man whose wife had somehow known Claire's mother.
“Did Isabelle ever mention Rachel?” Claire asked.
“No.”
“Victor?”
“No.”
“Thomas Bennett?”
“No.”
Claire held up the letter.
“Then your wife had an entire secret life you knew nothing about.”
Pain moved across his face.
“Yes.”
That answer took some of the fight out of her.
“How did she die?”
“Cancer.”
“You're sure?”
Adrian's eyes hardened.
“Yes.”
“I'm sorry.”
“So am I.”
Claire looked again at the photograph of Isabelle and Rachel.
They appeared to be sitting in a diner.
Rachel looked older than Claire remembered her near the end.
The photograph must have been taken not long before Rachel's death.
“My mother knew your wife.”
“Yes.”
“Which means she knew where you were.”
“Yes.”
“And still didn't contact you.”
Adrian looked away.
That hurt him.
Claire could tell.
“She was scared of something.”
“I know.”
“Maybe you.”
His eyes returned to hers.
“Maybe.”
The fact that he didn't defend himself bothered Claire more than denial would have.
She reached for her pendant.
“The key.”
Adrian watched her.
“Rachel said you already have it.”
“This necklace?”
“Most likely.”
Claire examined the pendant.
She had worn it almost every day since she was sixteen.
She knew every scratch.
Every edge.
Except—
Her thumb caught on something.
A seam.
She frowned.
Adrian moved closer.
“What?”
“I never noticed this.”
The silver star was slightly raised.
Claire pressed it.
Nothing.
She twisted it.
A tiny click.
The pendant opened.
Inside was something so small Claire almost missed it.
A narrow brass key.
Adrian stared.
“Rachel.”
Claire removed it.
There was a number engraved along the side.
317.
“Safe-deposit box?” she asked.
“Could be.”
“Where?”
Adrian looked at the photograph.
The diner behind Rachel and Isabelle had a logo on the napkin dispenser.
Claire recognized it.
“That's in Brookfield.”
“Where you grew up?”
“Three blocks from our old apartment.”
They drove there that afternoon.
Adrian wanted six security men.
Claire argued him down to two.
“You don't get to argue security with me,” he told her.
“I just did.”
“You were shot yesterday.”
“Thank you for the update.”
Adrian stared at her.
Claire stared back.
One of the guards turned away, apparently hiding a smile.
The diner was gone.
In its place stood a pharmacy.
But across the street was Brookfield Community Bank.
Claire looked at the key.
“Too easy.”
“Sometimes simple works.”
Inside, box 317 was registered to Rachel Bennett.
Claire nearly cried when the manager confirmed it.
The paperwork named Claire as successor upon Rachel's death.
Eight years.
The box had been waiting eight years.
Inside were three things.
A flash drive.
A leather journal.
And a sealed letter.
MY CLAIRE.
Her mother's handwriting.
Claire sat in the private viewing room.
For a long time, she couldn't open it.
Adrian waited silently.
Finally, Claire broke the seal.
My beautiful girl,
If you are reading this, then the past found you despite everything I did.
Claire's vision blurred.
She continued.
Rachel explained Thomas.
The Bellinis.
Victor Marchetti.
The theft.
The murders.
And her fear.
Thomas had discovered that Victor was building his own organization using Bellini money. When Thomas threatened to expose him, Victor had him killed.
Rachel stole copies of Thomas's financial records.
But she discovered something worse.
Victor had help.
Someone inside the Bellini family.
Rachel never learned who.
She fled with newborn Claire.
For years she moved from city to city.
Eventually, she settled in Brookfield and became Rachel Bennett permanently.
Then, seventeen years later, Isabelle Bellini found her.
Claire stopped reading.
“Your wife found her.”
Adrian nodded.
“How?”
“I don't know.”
Rachel explained.
Isabelle had discovered irregular payments from one of Adrian's companies to businesses secretly controlled by Victor.
She started investigating.
That led her to Thomas Bennett.
Then Rachel.
Rachel trusted Isabelle because she believed Adrian's wife wanted to protect Sofia from inheriting the same world Rachel had escaped.
The flash drive contained everything they collected.
Claire looked at Adrian.
“Did Isabelle investigate you?”
“Yes.”
“You don't seem surprised.”
“I married a woman who never accepted an answer just because I gave it.”
Despite herself, Claire smiled.
“She sounds difficult.”
“She was.”
“You loved her.”
“With everything I had.”
Claire returned to the letter.
The final paragraphs were different.
Personal.
Claire, I owe you an apology.
I told myself every lie was protection. Some were. Some were cowardice.
You deserved to know your father.
Thomas loved you before he ever held you.
He used to put his hand on my stomach and talk to you when he thought I was asleep.
Claire pressed her fingers to her lips.
She had spent twenty-four years imagining a dead father who had never known her.
Now she learned he had.
And Adrian loved you too, though he never met you.
Claire glanced at him.
His face had gone still.
When I was pregnant, Adrian used to call you Peanut because I refused to tell him the name I'd chosen. He gave me the star-and-moon pendant when we were children. He kept the moon. I kept the star.
If Adrian is still the brother I remember, he will protect you.
But make him earn your trust.
Claire laughed through her tears.
“That sounds like Mom.”
Adrian looked down.
“She always made everything difficult.”
“She'd say she made people earn things.”
“She said that too.”
Claire continued.
The last line broke them both.
Tell my brother I'm sorry I couldn't come home.
Adrian turned away.
Claire saw his shoulders move once.
She pretended she didn't.
Some grief deserved privacy.
They took the drive back to the estate.
Adrian's technology specialist, Noah Pierce, examined the files on an isolated computer.
There were hundreds.
Bank transfers.
Company registrations.
Recorded conversations.
Scanned ledgers.
Photographs.
And one video.
Rachel.
Claire stopped breathing when her mother's face appeared on the screen.
She was sitting in the same Brookfield diner.
Older.
Tired.
Alive.
“Claire,” Rachel said into the camera, “if you're seeing this, then I ran out of time.”
Claire reached toward the screen.
Rachel explained that Victor had spent decades rebuilding his influence.
He had infiltrated legitimate Bellini businesses.
Bought police officers.
Judges.
Employees.
Security.
Then Rachel said something that changed the room.
“Victor isn't the head anymore.”
Adrian leaned forward.
“He answers to someone inside the Bellini organization.”
Rachel looked directly into the camera.
“I don't know who.”
The video flickered.
“But Isabelle thinks she does.”
Adrian whispered his wife's name.
Rachel continued.
“She told me she was going to confront the person.”
Adrian stood abruptly.
“What?”
Claire looked at him.
“When?”
He checked the file date.
Three weeks before Isabelle's cancer worsened suddenly.
Adrian's face went blank.
Claire understood the thought.
“No.”
“She died from cancer,” Adrian said.
But now he sounded as though he was convincing himself.
Noah opened another folder.
It was encrypted.
A password prompt appeared.
Claire thought of Rachel.
Of childhood.
Of the strange phrase her mother said whenever Claire was afraid.
Stars still shine when you can't see them.
Claire typed it.
The folder opened.
Inside was an audio recording.
Isabelle's voice.
“I know what you've been doing.”
A man's voice answered.
“You should have left this alone.”
Adrian grabbed the desk.
Claire recognized the second voice.
She had heard it before.
Not long ago.
At the hospital.
At the estate.
She turned toward the doorway.
A man was standing there.
Adrian's security chief.
Marcus Vale.
He had been with Adrian for seventeen years.
He had carried Sofia when she was a baby.
He had stood beside Isabelle at her funeral.
Now his eyes were fixed on the computer.
Adrian slowly turned.
“Marcus.”
Marcus said nothing.
Then Claire saw his hand move toward his jacket.
Adrian moved faster.
He slammed Marcus against the wall before the weapon cleared its holster.
Security rushed in.
Marcus was disarmed and forced to the floor.
Adrian stood over him.
His face contained no emotion.
“You knew Isabelle was investigating Victor.”
Marcus smiled.
It was small.
Cold.
“You always were slow when family was involved.”
Adrian grabbed him by the collar.
“What happened to my wife?”
Marcus laughed.
“Cancer happened to your wife.”
“Who are you protecting?”
Marcus looked toward Claire.
His smile widened.
“Ask Rachel's daughter.”
Claire's skin crawled.
“What does that mean?”
Marcus looked directly at her.
“You still don't understand why Victor wanted your father dead.”
Adrian tightened his grip.
“Talk.”
Marcus's gaze never left Claire.
“Thomas Bennett wasn't killed because he discovered stolen money.”
Claire felt her heartbeat in her wound.
“Then why?”
“Because he discovered who really owned the Bellini empire.”
Adrian went still.
Marcus leaned closer.
“And if Claire opens the final ledger, Adrian loses everything.”
Before anyone could ask another question, the lights went out.
The estate plunged into darkness.
A second later, an alarm screamed.
May you like
And from upstairs came Sofia's terrified cry.
“Daddy!”
