Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN WHO DIED TWICE|
By eleven that evening, Dominic had made a decision that frightened everyone around him.
He wasn't going to Bellhaven with an army.
He was going to give Beatrice exactly what she expected.
A desperate brother.
A frightened wife.
And the appearance of complete surrender.
But appearances, I'd learned, were often the most dangerous part of the Coretti family.
Marco spread a map across Dominic's desk.
“Bellhaven has three entrances.”
“The main gate is visible from the house.”
“The southern access road runs through private woods.”
“And the old service tunnel connects the greenhouse to the basement.”
Dominic pointed toward the tunnel.
“Is it still accessible?”
Mrs. Alvarez nodded.
“It was when I worked there.”
“That was twenty-two years ago.”
“I know.”
Marco frowned.
“The structure may have collapsed.”
“Then we verify before anyone enters.”
I watched the men discussing cameras, access roads, and police coordination.
It felt surreal.
Three hours earlier, I'd been hoping to survive a humiliating wedding reception without crying.
Now I was standing inside a security briefing because the bride had been kidnapped.
And I was apparently the person her captor wanted most.
“Dominic,” I said.
He looked up immediately.
“Yes?”
“I want to call the woman in Vermont.”
His expression tightened.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because we don't know whether the address is genuine.”
“Then let's find out.”
Marco glanced at Dominic.
“I can run the name.”
“Do it.”
Within minutes, he had a property record.
A modest farmhouse outside Stowe, Vermont.
The property had been purchased eighteen years earlier by a woman named Margaret Ellis.
There were no recent public photographs.
No criminal record.
No social media.
And almost no trace of her existence beyond taxes and utilities.
“She could be anyone,” Marco said.
Mrs. Alvarez shook her head.
“Elena's sister would be sixty-four now.”
Marco looked at the screen.
“The property owner is listed as sixty-four.”
Dominic gripped the back of his chair.
“Call her.”
Marco dialed.
The first attempt went unanswered.
So did the second.
On the third call, a woman picked up.
“Hello?”
Her voice was quiet and cautious.
Dominic stepped forward.
“My name is Dominic Coretti.”
Silence.
Then a faint sound.
Almost like someone dropping a glass.
“Who gave you this number?”
Dominic took a breath.
“Margaret Bennett.”
The woman didn't answer.
“She left a message.”
Still nothing.
Then Dominic said the words that changed the room.
“I'm Elena's son.”
A sob came through the phone.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then the woman whispered his name.
“Dominic?”
His face changed.
“Yes.”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Her voice broke completely.
“I prayed you'd find me before it was too late.”
Dominic braced one hand against the desk.
“Who are you?”
The woman inhaled shakily.
“I'm your aunt.”
“Your mother's sister.”
“And I've spent twenty-two years waiting for someone brave enough to tell you the truth.”
I looked toward Mrs. Alvarez.
She was crying.
Dominic's voice remained controlled through enormous effort.
“Why didn't you contact us?”
“Because Beatrice told me she'd kill Isabella if I did.”
My stomach dropped.
“Did you witness the fire?”
“Yes.”
“Who started it?”
A long silence followed.
Then Margaret Ellis whispered two words.
“Beatrice did.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
“Can you prove it?”
“Yes.”
The answer came immediately.
“And Clara is the reason I still have that proof.”
I went cold.
“Me?”
The woman hesitated.
“Is Margaret Bennett's granddaughter with you?”
I stepped closer.
“Yes, ma'am.”
A soft, broken laugh came through the phone.
“Oh, Clara.”
“You have your grandmother's hands.”
I stared at the receiver.
“How could you know that?”
“Because she showed me photographs of you every Christmas.”
My knees weakened.
“Grandma knew you were alive?”
“She saved my life.”
The words seemed to echo through the library.
Margaret Ellis continued.
“The night of the fire, Elena discovered Beatrice had been manipulating shipments and financial records.”
“She also found proof that Beatrice had arranged the death of a man who threatened to expose her.”
“Elena planned to bring everything to her husband.”
“But Beatrice learned about it.”
Dominic listened without moving.
“She trapped Elena in the basement office.”
“I tried to reach her.”
“There was smoke everywhere.”
“She pushed a packet of records through a ventilation opening.”
“She told me to run.”
The woman began crying again.
“I didn't want to leave her.”
“But she begged me to protect her children.”
I gripped Dominic's arm.
Margaret continued.
“I escaped through the greenhouse.”
“Your grandmother found me near the road.”
“She helped me disappear.”
“Everyone believed I died in the fire.”
“Beatrice encouraged that story because a dead witness couldn't testify.”
Dominic opened his eyes.
“What records?”
“Financial documents, photographs, and a handwritten ledger.”
“Where are they?”
“With me.”
I felt a rush of hope.
“Then we can expose her.”
Margaret's voice sharpened.
“Not until Isabella is safe.”
Dominic straightened.
“You know she's been taken?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Someone called me twenty minutes ago.”
The room went silent.
“Who?”
“Beatrice.”
Dominic's expression changed.
“What did she say?”
Margaret hesitated.
“She said if I wanted my family's bloodline to survive, I should burn everything Elena left behind.”
Dominic leaned toward the phone.
“Listen carefully.”
“We're working with the police.”
“We need you in a safe location.”
“No.”
His eyebrows drew together.
“Margaret—”
“I've spent twenty-two years hiding.”
“I won't spend the rest of my life doing it.”
She took a breath.
“I'll meet you.”
“Where?”
“The old chapel on Bellhaven Road.”
Dominic shook his head.
“Too dangerous.”
“There's something Elena left there.”
“Something Margaret Bennett couldn't move.”
I looked at the phone.
“What?”
“A second ledger.”
Dominic frowned.
“Why would she separate the evidence?”
“Because Elena suspected Beatrice wasn't acting alone.”
The words made everyone freeze.
My stomach turned.
“Who was helping her?”
Margaret didn't answer immediately.
Then she spoke in a trembling voice.
“Someone who is still sitting at your family table.”
Dominic's gaze moved slowly toward the photographs lining his study.
His relatives.
His cousins.
His uncles.
People he'd trusted for decades.
“Tell me the name.”
“I can't prove it yet.”
“Margaret.”
“Dominic, if I say the wrong name and that person hears us, Isabella will die.”
He looked ready to argue.
But Margaret continued.
“Find the second ledger.”
“Then you'll understand why Beatrice was so desperate to keep Clara away from the family.”
I leaned closer.
“Why me?”
The woman sighed.
“Because Clara, you weren't chosen as Dominic's wife by accident.”
Everything inside me went still.
Dominic turned sharply.
“What?”
Margaret's voice became almost a whisper.
“Your grandmother knew Elena's evidence had to reach the Coretti children someday.”
“She wanted someone she trusted close enough to recognize the clues.”
My eyes filled.
“Are you saying Grandma arranged my marriage?”
“No.”
“She died before the arrangement.”
“But someone knew you were her granddaughter.”
“Someone saw an opportunity.”
Dominic looked at my father.
He lowered his head.
I stared at him.
“Dad?”
He began shaking.
“Clara, I never knew what they were planning.”
“What did you do?”
He covered his face.
“Beatrice offered to clear my debts if I introduced you to Dominic.”
The room seemed to collapse around me.
I stepped backward.
“You told me Dominic demanded the marriage.”
My father began crying.
“I know.”
“You said it was the only way to save Daniel.”
“I was afraid.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Don't use Daniel's illness to excuse this.”
“Please, sweetheart.”
“You let me believe my husband had purchased me.”
I looked toward Dominic.
He appeared equally stunned.
“Thomas,” he said slowly.
“You told me Clara agreed to the arrangement.”
My father couldn't meet either of our eyes.
“She didn't know everything.”
My heart broke in a strange, quiet way.
For six months, I'd believed Dominic had chosen our marriage as a business transaction.
But he'd been told I wanted the arrangement.
And I'd been told he demanded it.
We had spent half a year living inside the same house, believing the worst possible version of each other.
Because someone had carefully placed those lies between us.
Dominic took a step toward me.
“Clara.”
I shook my head.
“Not now.”
He stopped immediately.
My phone vibrated.
Another message from Beatrice.
This time, there was no photograph.
Only a countdown.
ONE HOUR.
Beneath it was a recording.
I pressed play.
Isabella's voice filled the room.
“Dominic, please don't come.”
She was crying.
“She's going to kill you.”
A woman's voice interrupted her.
Beatrice.
“Tell your brother what you found, darling.”
Isabella sobbed.
“I found the papers.”
“What papers?” Dominic whispered.
Then Isabella said something that made my blood turn to ice.
“Adrian knew about the kidnapping.”
Her breath caught.
“He helped her.”
The recording ended.
I stared at the phone.
Adrian Bell.
The handsome young man who had stood beside Isabella at the altar.
The man who had promised to love and protect her.
The man who had dragged her to safety during the shooting.
He hadn't been protecting his bride.
May you like
He'd been controlling where she went.
And Isabella had married him less than twelve hours earlier.
