Chapter 5 - THE COFFIN WAS EMPTY
I stared at the photograph until the edges blurred.
Isabelle was alive.
Six months after her funeral.
Six months after I had stood beside her coffin.
Six months after I had kissed her forehead and promised our daughters I would protect them.
She had been alive.
My mind couldn't process it.
Then something worse happened.
Nora walked toward the photograph.
She touched Isabelle's face.
“Mommy.”
One word.
Then she looked at me.
“Mommy came back.”
My knees weakened.
“When?”
Nora pointed at the photograph.
“Here.”
Grace crouched beside her.
“Do you remember this place?”
Nora nodded.
“Daddy's house.”
I looked at the photograph.
Behind Isabelle was a house.
I knew it.
A property I owned in Connecticut.
A place I hadn't visited in years.
My hands curled into fists.
Victor.
He had access to every property.
Every account.
Every document.
Every security system.
I looked at Donnelly.
“Where is Victor?”
She smiled.
“You're finally asking the right question.”
I called him.
He answered immediately.
“Dominic.”
“Where are you?”
“Office.”
“Which office?”
A pause.
“Manhattan.”
“Stay there.”
Another pause.
“Is something wrong?”
“Everything.”
I ended the call.
Then I looked at Marco.
“Take the girls upstairs.”
“No.”
“Marco.”
“I'm not leaving you.”
“Take them.”
He hesitated.
Then nodded.
Grace stayed.
“You're coming with me.”
“To Connecticut?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because Isabelle wanted me to tell you something.”
I stared.
“What?”
Grace took a breath.
“She knew you would think Nora was someone else's child.”
My stomach tightened.
“She told me that if you ever found the DNA report, you would believe the wrong thing.”
“What wrong thing?”
“That Nora wasn't yours.”
“She isn't.”
Grace looked directly at me.
“Biologically.”
I said nothing.
“But the man listed as her biological father isn't who you think.”
I looked at the report.
“Who is it?”
Grace whispered:
“Victor Hale.”
Everything inside me went still.
“No.”
“He was the donor.”
“For what?”
Grace swallowed.
“Isabelle had been told she couldn't safely carry another child.”
I stared.
“She underwent treatment.”
My mind flashed backward.
The fertility clinic.
The paperwork Isabelle never wanted to discuss.
The months of appointments.
The pregnancy she had called our miracle.
I had believed Nora was mine.
Because Isabelle had told me she was.
Grace continued.
“But Victor wasn't the biological father because of an affair.”
I looked up.
“Then why?”
“Because Isabelle was trying to save Nora.”
“From what?”
Grace's voice cracked.
“From a genetic disease that runs through your family.”
I stared at her.
“My family?”
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
“That's impossible.”
“Your father died from it.”
I remembered.
My father had suffered from a neurological condition that doctors couldn't explain.
His hands shook.
His memory faded.
He died at fifty-two.
I had spent years terrified I would inherit it.
But my medical tests had always been clear.
Grace opened another file.
“Isabelle discovered the disease could be prevented if the embryo wasn't biologically related to you.”
I stared at Nora's name.
“Then why hide it?”
“Because your father wasn't sick naturally.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“He was poisoned.”
The room seemed to shrink.
Grace continued.
“Isabelle found evidence that someone had been poisoning members of your family for years.”
My heart hammered.
“Who?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“Then why did she disappear?”
“She didn't.”
“What?”
Grace pointed toward the photograph.
“She ran.”
“From me?”
“No.”
“Then from whom?”
Grace looked toward the stairs.
“From the people who are coming for your daughters.”
A sound came from outside.
Tires.
I moved to the window.
The black SUVs had stopped.
Men were getting out.
But they weren't Victor's men.
I recognized the leader.
My oldest enemy.
Salvatore Moretti.
Grace whispered:
“My father.”
I turned toward her.
“Your father is dead.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
May you like
Then she looked at the photograph of Isabelle.
“He's the man who helped her disappear.”
