Chapter 12 - THE FIRE THAT COULDN'T BURY THE TRUTH|
The first thing I smelled was smoke.
Not the distant scent of a fireplace.
Not the harmless smell of burned candles.
This was thick, bitter smoke that stung my eyes and made every breath feel dangerous.
Dominic pushed Isabella toward the drawing room's outer doors.
“Go!”
A security officer reached us.
“East exit is clear.”
Dominic nodded.
“Take them out.”
I grabbed Isabella's hand.
Her enormous wedding skirt dragged across the carpet.
The pearls I'd sewn glimmered in the emergency lights.
Behind us, flames began climbing the staircase.
“Clara!”
Dominic's voice cut through the chaos.
I turned.
He stood beside Margaret, who was staring toward the basement door.
Her face had gone white.
“She'll be down there,” Margaret whispered.
Dominic looked at her.
“Beatrice?”
Margaret nodded.
“She knows the old furnace room.”
“She knows how Elena died.”
Dominic's expression changed.
The sound of fire seemed to disappear for a moment.
He looked toward the basement.
Then toward his sister.
For twenty-two years, he'd lived with the image of his mother dying inside this house.
Now the same woman who caused that death was trying to repeat it.
I could see the temptation in his eyes.
To follow.
To confront.
To demand an explanation no confession could ever satisfy.
I crossed the room.
“Dominic.”
He looked at me.
“Don't go down there alone.”
His jaw tightened.
“She may be destroying evidence.”
“The ledger is safe.”
“There may be more.”
I stepped closer.
“Your sister is standing right here.”
His eyes moved toward Isabella.
She was crying silently.
“Dominic, please.”
Her voice was small.
“Please don't leave me again.”
Something changed in his expression.
He looked at the flames.
Then at Margaret.
Then at me.
And for the first time, I watched Dominic Coretti choose the living over the ghosts of his past.
He nodded.
“Everyone out.”
We moved toward the east corridor.
Two officers helped Isabella lift her gown.
Margaret followed beside Mrs. Alvarez, who had entered with the emergency team.
The hallway was filling with smoke.
Above us, the ceiling creaked.
A decorative beam crashed somewhere behind the staircase.
I flinched.
Dominic wrapped one arm around my shoulders.
“Keep moving.”
The east doors were only thirty feet away.
Then Isabella stopped.
“My ring.”
I turned.
“What?”
She stared at her bare hand.
“Adrian's ring.”
“Isabella, leave it.”
“No.”
She began shaking.
“Not his.”
“Mom's.”
I understood immediately.
She had worn Elena's wedding ring beneath her engagement ring.
A small gold band decorated with an engraved rose.
The ring had belonged to her mother.
I looked at her hand.
It was gone.
“Where did you last have it?”
Isabella looked toward the drawing room.
“I took it off when Beatrice tied my hands.”
“She put it in her purse.”
I felt a rush of anger.
Even now, Beatrice had found another way to steal something precious from the children she'd already hurt.
Dominic looked toward the burning staircase.
“We'll recover it later.”
“But what if it burns?”
His voice softened.
“Then we'll remember your mother without it.”
Isabella began crying harder.
He took her face between his hands.
“Listen to me.”
“Mom loved you before you had that ring.”
“She loved you before you could even say her name.”
“Nothing Beatrice steals can change that.”
Isabella collapsed against him.
He held her for one brief moment.
Then he guided her toward the doors.
The officers opened them.
Cold night air rushed inside.
I nearly sobbed with relief.
Beyond the garden, emergency vehicles were arriving.
Their lights flashed through the trees.
Firefighters ran toward the building.
Police officers shouted instructions.
And far beyond the driveway, I could hear the Hudson River moving through the darkness.
We were almost outside when a voice called from the corridor.
“Help!”
Everyone froze.
The cry came from behind us.
A man's voice.
“Please!”
Dominic turned.
Victor Salvatore.
He was still inside.
During the confusion, he'd been left unconscious beside the fireplace.
One of the officers looked toward the smoke.
“We have a person down.”
Dominic moved immediately.
I caught his arm.
“Please.”
He looked at me.
Then at the doorway.
“Clara, he'll die in there.”
I swallowed.
Victor had helped destroy his parents.
He'd helped arrange the attempt on my life.
He'd betrayed Dominic for nineteen years.
But he was still a human being lying inside a burning house.
And there were firefighters entering the west corridor.
“Tell them exactly where he is,” I said.
Dominic nodded.
He gave the responding team the location.
Then he stayed beside me.
Within minutes, firefighters carried Victor outside.
He was coughing.
Blood ran from a wound above his eye.
But he was alive.
Paramedics placed him on a stretcher.
As they passed, Victor caught Dominic's sleeve.
Dominic stopped.
Victor struggled to speak.
“There's something you don't know.”
Dominic's face hardened.
“Save it for the investigators.”
Victor shook his head.
“Beatrice didn't start the fire tonight.”
The words made my stomach drop.
Dominic leaned closer.
“What?”
Victor coughed.
“She planned to destroy the records.”
“But someone reached the furnace before her.”
Dominic's eyes narrowed.
“Who?”
Victor swallowed.
“Adrian.”
I stared at him.
“Adrian's in custody.”
Victor shook his head weakly.
“No.”
“He had someone else.”
He gripped Dominic's sleeve harder.
“Someone inside the house.”
Then his eyes closed.
The paramedics moved him toward the ambulance.
I looked at Dominic.
“Another accomplice?”
His expression was grim.
“Apparently.”
Marco approached.
“We have Beatrice.”
I turned sharply.
“Where?”
“West garden.”
“She tried to use the old service tunnel.”
“Officers caught her near the greenhouse.”
A wave of relief swept through me.
“Is she hurt?”
“Minor burns.”
“And the gun?”
“Recovered.”
Dominic nodded.
“Good.”
But Marco didn't leave.
His expression remained troubled.
“What is it?” Dominic asked.
“We found something in the tunnel.”
He held up a photograph inside an evidence sleeve.
It showed a younger Elena standing beside a dark-haired man.
Not Dominic's father.
Not Victor.
Someone else.
I leaned closer.
The man wore a familiar silver watch.
My stomach tightened.
“I've seen that watch.”
Dominic looked at me.
“Where?”
“The gunman at the wedding.”
Marco frowned.
“The same model?”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“The same scratch on the clasp.”
I pointed toward the photograph.
“See that diagonal mark?”
Marco studied it.
His face changed.
“You're right.”
Dominic stared at the man.
“Who is he?”
Margaret approached slowly.
When she saw the photograph, she stopped walking.
“Oh, Elena.”
Her voice broke.
Dominic turned.
“Margaret?”
She looked at him.
“That man was her security driver.”
“What was his name?”
“Samuel Cross.”
I frowned.
“Is he alive?”
Margaret looked toward the burning house.
“He disappeared the night of the fire.”
Dominic studied the photograph.
“Was he working for Beatrice?”
Margaret shook her head.
“No.”
“He was trying to help Elena.”
I felt confused.
“Then why would someone wearing his watch try to kill Isabella?”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Because Samuel had a son.”
The air seemed to grow colder.
Dominic stared at her.
“How old?”
“About eight when his father disappeared.”
I looked at the photograph again.
The man's jaw.
The shape of his eyes.
The watch.
I remembered the gunman's face.
The resemblance struck me.
“The waiter.”
Margaret nodded.
“His son would be thirty now.”
Dominic turned toward Marco.
“Identify the gunman.”
Marco checked his phone.
“Police records list him as Nathan Cross.”
Margaret covered her mouth.
“Dear God.”
I stared at her.
“Did Samuel die in the fire?”
She looked at me.
“No one ever found his body.”
Dominic frowned.
“Then where did he go?”
Margaret looked toward the chapel.
“The night Elena died, Samuel took something from Bellhaven.”
“What?”
“The original insurance and property records.”
I felt my pulse quicken.
“The documents that could prove Beatrice's crimes?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't he give them to the police?”
Margaret swallowed.
“Because someone told him his little boy would die if he did.”
The words chilled me.
Beatrice had used children as leverage for decades.
Dominic looked toward the ambulances.
“And now his son is working for her.”
Margaret shook her head.
“Maybe.”
“But I don't think Nathan knows what really happened.”
I remembered the gunman's final words at the wedding.
“Ask your husband what happened to the first woman who tried to save a Coretti.”
Nathan had sounded as if he knew something.
But perhaps he had been told a distorted version of the truth.
Perhaps he believed Dominic's family had killed his father.
And Beatrice had used that belief to turn him into another weapon.
Dominic looked toward Marco.
“Make sure the police question Nathan about Samuel.”
“Already on it.”
Then a firefighter approached.
“Mr. Coretti?”
Dominic turned.
“Yes?”
“We found a concealed room beneath the chapel.”
My heart leaped.
“The underground altar?”
The firefighter nodded.
“The entrance was partially blocked.”
“An evidence recovery team is examining it.”
I looked at Margaret.
Her face had changed.
She seemed almost hopeful.
Dominic asked, “Was anything recovered?”
The firefighter hesitated.
“A wooden cabinet.”
My breath stopped.
“Dark walnut?”
“Yes.”
“Four drawers?”
He nodded.
“With a brass bird above the lock?”
The man looked startled.
“Yes, ma'am.”
I felt tears spring into my eyes.
Grandma's cabinet.
The one my father sold.
The one I'd believed was lost forever.
It had found its way back to Bellhaven.
Or perhaps it had never truly left the people who were protecting Elena's secret.
Dominic looked at me.
“Clara.”
I could barely speak.
“That's it.”
“That's the cabinet.”
The firefighter continued.
“We also recovered a small sealed metal box.”
“Where was it?”
“Inside the cabinet's hidden compartment.”
I pressed my hands together.
“What was inside?”
The firefighter looked toward the chapel.
“An old recording.”
“And a letter.”
Dominic's voice went quiet.
“Addressed to whom?”
The firefighter consulted his notes.
Then looked directly at my husband.
“Dominic and Isabella Coretti.”
My heart seemed to stop.
Their mother had left them a message.
Twenty-two years ago, Elena had known she might never see her children grow up.
And somehow, through fire, betrayal, stolen money, and years of silence, her final words had survived.
Dominic looked toward the burning mansion.
Then he took my hand.
For the first time that night, his eyes held something stronger than anger.
Hope.
But before the recording could be examined, Marco's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“Boss.”
Dominic turned.
“What?”
“Police found the person who tampered with the furnace.”
I felt my breath catch.
“Who?”
Marco looked at me.
His voice became careful.
“Clara, it's someone from your family.”
My stomach dropped.
I looked toward my father.
He stood beside the ambulance, being interviewed by detectives.
Marco continued.
“It wasn't Thomas.”
I stared at him.
“Then who?”
He swallowed.
“The person who entered Bellhaven through the maintenance entrance was Daniel Bennett.”
My younger brother.
The boy whose medical bills had helped force my marriage.
May you like
The boy I'd spent my entire adult life trying to protect.
And according to the police, he had arrived at Bellhaven shortly before the fire began.
