Chapter 3 - The Woman at Victor Costa’s Table
The oldest visitor was Salvatore Maren.
He looked at Norah for two seconds too long.
Victor noticed.
“Something interesting, Sal?”
Salvatore smiled.
“Your staff.”
“My staff isn't your concern.”
“Of course.”
Norah left.
But Victor's attention followed her.
Tommy leaned toward him.
“You saw that?”
“Yes.”
“He recognized something.”
“Yes.”
“The ring?”
Victor's eyes hardened.
“Find out why.”
Dinner began.
Norah returned to the service corridor, where Mrs. Gable grabbed her arm.
“What did you say to him?”
“Nothing.”
“He knows your name.”
“He knows everybody's name.”
“No, he doesn't.”
Norah pulled free.
“Mrs. Gable—”
“You broke a twelve-thousand-dollar vase and he gave you a night off.”
“Apparently I have excellent negotiating skills.”
“This isn't funny.”
Norah agreed.
Nothing about the situation felt funny.
An hour later, Tommy found her in the pantry.
“Victor wants you upstairs.”
“Why?”
“He didn't say.”
“Then tell him I'm working.”
Tommy stared at her.
“You've known him for five minutes and you're already doing things that would get me buried.”
“I knew him before you did.”
Tommy considered that.
“Apparently.”
Norah followed him.
Victor waited in his private office.
His suit jacket was gone, leaving him in a fitted white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Dark tattoos covered part of his forearms and disappeared beneath the fabric.
Norah stopped in the doorway.
Victor noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're staring.”
“You had no tattoos when you were twelve.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“I was twelve.”
Despite herself, she smiled.
Then she saw his expression.
“What happened?”
Victor placed an old folder on the desk.
“Salvatore Maren.”
“What about him?”
“He knew St. Jude’s.”
Norah's smile vanished.
Victor opened the folder.
“His foundation donated money to the home twenty years ago.”
“So?”
“So one of the administrators who handled transfers later worked for Maren.”
Norah stared at him.
“You think they separated us deliberately?”
“I don't know yet.”
“Why would anyone care about two orphan kids?”
Victor leaned against the desk.
“Because of me.”
“You were twelve.”
“My father wasn't.”
Norah froze.
Victor continued.
“I learned who he was years later. Carlo Costa.”
She knew the name.
Everyone in the city did.
“The old Costa family?”
Victor nodded.
“My mother hid me at St. Jude’s under another surname before she died. Some people knew.”
“And me?”
“You were leverage.”
Norah's voice dropped.
“Against a child?”
“Against a Costa.”
She shook her head.
“This is insane.”
“Yes.”
“I don't want any part of it.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Victor stepped closer.
“I spent twenty years building something because I believed nobody was coming for me.”
“That sounds like an excuse.”
“For what?”
“For becoming this.”
The room chilled.
Nobody spoke to Victor that way.
Norah did.
Victor glanced toward the window.
“You're right.”
She hadn't expected that.
He continued quietly.
“I wanted a house nobody could throw me out of.”
Norah looked around the enormous office.
“You got one.”
“I wanted enough money to never be hungry.”
“You got that too.”
“I wanted people to stop controlling me.”
“Definitely got that.”
Victor finally looked at her.
“And somehow I forgot why I wanted any of it.”
Norah touched the ring.
“You were angry even then.”
“I was scared.”
“You never admitted that.”
“I was twelve.”
“You're thirty-two now.”
“And I'm admitting it.”
Silence settled between them.
Then Norah asked, “Did you really come back?”
Victor opened a drawer.
He removed an old envelope.
Inside was a faded photograph.
Two children sat on the roof of a maintenance shed.
Norah covered her mouth.
“Where did you get this?”
“St. Jude’s.”
She took the picture.
Little Norah was laughing.
Little Vic was pretending not to.
On the back, in childish handwriting, were four words:
HOUSE WITH HEAT. GUARANTEED.
Norah laughed through sudden tears.
“You were ridiculous.”
“I still am.”
“No argument.”
Victor smiled.
Then Tommy entered without knocking.
That erased the moment.
“We have a problem.”
Victor straightened.
“What?”
“Maren left early.”
“So?”
“He made a call from the car.”
“To whom?”
“Mrs. Gable.”
Norah turned.
Victor's expression became ice.
“Bring her to me.”
Ten minutes later, Mrs. Gable stood in Victor's office.
She was trembling.
Victor placed a phone on the desk.
“Explain.”
“I don't know what you mean.”
Tommy pressed play.
Mrs. Gable's recorded voice filled the room.
“She still has it.”
Then Maren:
“Are you certain?”
“The copper ring. Blue stone.”
Norah went pale.
Victor did not move.
Mrs. Gable whispered, “Mr. Costa—”
Victor's voice was terrifyingly calm.
“How long?”
She started crying.
“How long have you known who she was?”
“Eight months.”
Norah stared at her.
Victor asked the question that mattered.
“Why did you hire her?”
Mrs. Gable looked at Norah.
Then whispered:
May you like
“Because Mr. Maren told me to.”
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