Chapter 6 - The Mother Behind the Curtain
Dante did not speak for several seconds.
Isabella filled the silence.
“You should come to Rome.”
“Why?”
“Because your cousin is telling an extraordinary story.”
“What story?”
“That you’ve lost control.”
Dante looked at Sophia.
“He says you accused him of Elena’s murder because of something Sophia said.”
“He told you that?”
“Yes.”
“And you believe him?”
“I believe frightened men often tell partial truths.”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“Put Julian on.”
“No.”
“Mother.”
“No.”
The softness in Isabella’s voice disappeared.
“You will not interrogate family over the telephone like some street criminal.”
Clara watched Dante change.
Around everyone else, he commanded.
Around his mother, an older reflex remained.
The son.
The heir.
The boy who had once obeyed.
“I heard a recording,” Dante said.
Silence.
Not long.
But long enough.
“What recording?”
“Elena.”
Another pause.
“That is cruel.”
“What is?”
“Listening to a dead woman because you cannot let her rest.”
“She recorded the night she died.”
Isabella inhaled.
Dante continued.
“There was another woman there.”
Clara watched his face.
He was giving Isabella a chance.
Not accusing.
Waiting.
Isabella responded carefully.
“Then find out who.”
Dante looked at Sophia.
“I think I have.”
The line went quiet.
Finally Isabella said, “Come to Rome.”
Then she hung up.
Dante lowered the phone.
Clara spoke first.
“You think it was her.”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
He looked at her.
“I know the voice sounded familiar.”
“And Sophia identified her.”
“She was four.”
“She remembered Julian’s ring.”
“She also spent three years traumatized.”
Clara crossed her arms.
“You’re defending your mother.”
“I’m verifying.”
“No. You’re hoping.”
His eyes hardened.
Luca shifted uncomfortably.
Clara did not back away.
“Those aren’t the same thing.”
Dante walked toward the window.
When he spoke again, the anger had disappeared.
“You’re right.”
The admission surprised everyone.
He looked older suddenly.
“My mother hated Elena.”
“Why?”
“She believed Elena made me weak.”
Clara glanced at Sophia.
“Because you loved your wife?”
“Because Elena wanted me out.”
“Out of what?”
Dante gave her a look.
She understood.
The Vancini empire.
Not just restaurants.
Not just legitimate businesses.
Everything behind them.
“Elena wanted Sophia raised somewhere else,” Dante said. “She wanted me to leave the family operations to Julian.”
Clara stared.
“That would have given Julian exactly what he wanted.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe your mother thought Elena was threatening the family.”
“Yes.”
“And Julian thought removing Elena would give him control.”
“Yes.”
“So they had the same problem.”
Dante nodded.
“But not necessarily the same solution.”
Clara remembered the recording.
The unknown woman had told Julian he was only supposed to scare Elena.
That suggested something had gone wrong.
Maybe Isabella intended intimidation.
Maybe Julian escalated.
Or maybe someone else entirely had pulled the trigger.
“Who killed Elena?” Clara asked.
Dante’s eyes became distant.
“A man named Aaron Pike.”
“The gunman?”
“Police identified him from cameras. He disappeared afterward.”
“Dead?”
“Probably.”
“Probably isn’t dead.”
Dante looked at Luca.
“Find him.”
Luca nodded.
Clara almost laughed.
“You make that sound easy.”
“It won’t be.”
Dante turned to her.
“You shouldn’t stay here.”
“What?”
“You need to leave.”
“You literally brought me here because Sophia trusted me.”
“That was before someone threatened you.”
“They threatened me before we came.”
“Now I know why.”
Clara frowned.
“Because of my father?”
“Because whoever Elena feared may believe you have Thomas’s evidence.”
“I do.”
“Exactly.”
He held out the flash drive.
“You are now more valuable as leverage than you were yesterday.”
Sophia entered from the hallway.
She heard enough.
She walked directly to Clara and took her hand.
Dante sighed.
“She can’t stay.”
Sophia tightened her grip.
“Sophia.”
The child shook her head.
“Sweetheart.”
Another hard shake.
Clara looked at Dante.
“She seems to have voted.”
“This isn’t democracy.”
Sophia glared.
Dante rubbed his forehead.
Luca turned away, hiding a grin.
Eventually Dante compromised.
Clara would remain in the guest wing.
Two guards outside.
No leaving without Dante.
No calls except through secured phones.
Clara accepted because rent suddenly felt like an absurdly small problem.
By afternoon Luca had decrypted part of Thomas Hale’s flash drive.
Rows of accounts appeared.
Shell companies.
International transfers.
Names.
Dates.
One pattern emerged quickly.
Payments every year on November 17.
11/17.
The number scratched on Elena’s locket.
The number Sophia had written.
Clara leaned closer.
“Who receives them?”
Luca opened one file.
Beneficiary:
AP CONSULTING.
Dante stared.
“Aaron Pike.”
The gunman.
He had been paid every November 17 since Elena’s death.
Not killed.
Rewarded.
Clara felt sick.
“Someone has been paying him to stay quiet.”
Luca clicked the account origin.
The payments came from a foundation.
Vancini Heritage Trust.
Dante’s face changed.
“My mother controls that trust.”
Clara said nothing.
There was nothing to say.
Dante stood.
“Book Rome.”
Luca nodded.
“No.”
Clara’s voice surprised everyone.
Dante looked at her.
“You’re not taking Sophia there.”
“I didn’t say I was.”
“You were thinking it.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You read minds now?”
“Only obvious ones.”
Despite everything, his mouth nearly moved.
Then Sophia entered with a sheet of paper.
Another drawing.
Airplane.
Three figures.
Dante.
Clara.
Sophia.
Dante shook his head.
“No.”
Sophia added a fourth figure.
An older woman.
Isabella.
Then she drew a line from Isabella to herself.
A black line around Sophia’s throat.
Clara felt cold.
“What does that mean?”
Sophia stared at the paper.
Her lips moved.
This time a sound came.
One word.
“Tea.”
Dante went motionless.
“What?”
Sophia swallowed.
“Tea.”
Clara crouched.
“Your grandmother gave you tea?”
Sophia nodded.
“When?”
A long pause.
“After.”
Dante’s face drained of color.
“After your mother died?”
Sophia nodded again.
Clara understood.
“Was that when you stopped talking?”
Tears spilled down Sophia’s cheeks.
A nod.
Dante whispered, “What was in the tea?”
Sophia shook her head.
She did not know.
Luca was already typing.
“Medical records.”
Dante looked at him.
“Get everything from those first months.”
Minutes later Luca found an old toxicology report buried among Sophia’s pediatric records.
A doctor had noted unusually high levels of a sedative.
The prescription had not been written for Sophia.
It belonged to Isabella Vancini.
Clara looked at Dante.
“Your mother drugged her.”
Dante said nothing.
Sophia suddenly pulled free from Clara and ran upstairs.
“Sophia!”
They followed.
The girl went straight into her room.
She pulled a stuffed rabbit from the shelf.
Old.
Worn.
One ear stitched badly.
She tore the seam open with her fingers.
Something fell onto the bed.
A tiny memory card.
Dante picked it up.
On one side, written in Elena’s handwriting:
FOR DANTE.
Luca inserted it into a laptop.
One video file appeared.
Dated the night Elena died.
Dante clicked play.
Elena’s face filled the screen.
She was inside her car.
Terrified.
“If you’re watching this, I didn’t make it home.”
Dante stopped breathing.
Elena looked directly into the camera.
“Dante, Julian is dangerous.”
Pause.
“But he isn’t the person you need to fear most.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“You need to protect Sophia from your mother.”
The video glitched.
Then Elena leaned closer.
May you like
“Because Isabella already killed someone once.”
The screen went black.
