Chapter 5 - The Woman in Apartment 407
Claire's apartment in Flagstaff was nothing like the Moretti mansion.
There were no marble floors.
No chandeliers.
No staff who silently disappeared whenever Vincent raised his voice.
The furniture was ordinary. The curtains were faded. The kitchen window overlooked a parking lot.
Claire loved it.
For the first time in three years, the refrigerator contained only food she liked.
No mango desserts.
No meals arranged around Isabella's preferences.
No expensive champagne she didn't drink.
She made herself tea and sat beside the window.
Then she cried.
Not because she missed Vincent.
But because she finally had enough silence to understand how much she'd lost.
She thought about the pregnancy test.
She had imagined Vincent smiling.
Maybe lifting her into his arms.
Maybe promising to paint the nursery himself, despite having no idea how to hold a paintbrush.
Instead, she'd sat alone in a hospital examination room while the doctor explained that the pregnancy was ending.
There had been follow-up testing, difficult decisions, and pain that no amount of money could erase.
Vincent hadn't been there.
And she couldn't make herself forgive that.
Her phone buzzed.
It was Evelyn, her divorce attorney.
"Claire, there's been a development."
Claire closed her eyes.
"Please don't tell me Vincent found me."
"He hasn't. But his attorneys contacted my office."
"Of course they did."
"They offered a settlement."
Claire waited.
"Twenty million dollars, your choice of property, and a guaranteed monthly payment."
Claire gave a bitter laugh.
"He's trying to buy my forgiveness."
"There's more. He hasn't signed the divorce papers."
"Then we'll proceed without his agreement if necessary."
Evelyn hesitated.
"Claire, his lawyers also asked whether you'd consider a private conversation."
"No."
"Understood."
Claire looked at the photograph of her father lying on the coffee table.
"Evelyn, I need you to investigate something."
"What?"
"Everything connected to my father's accident. Especially his work with Moretti Holdings."
There was a long pause.
"Why?"
"Because someone just showed me evidence his death might not have been an accident."
Evelyn's voice became serious.
"Do not investigate this alone."
"I'm not planning to."
"Good. I'll contact someone I trust."
After the call, Claire walked downstairs for groceries.
When she returned, a woman stood outside her apartment.
She appeared to be in her late sixties, with silver hair and a dark green coat.
"Claire Bennett?"
Claire stopped.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Margaret Hale."
The woman removed a small photograph from her purse.
It showed Claire's father standing beside a hospital bed.
In the bed lay a young woman holding a newborn baby.
Claire stared.
"That's my father."
Margaret nodded.
"And the woman?"
Claire looked closer.
Her breath caught.
"Elena Moretti."
Vincent's mother.
Margaret watched her carefully.
"I was a nurse at St. Catherine's Hospital. I knew your father and Elena before either of them became connected to the Moretti family."
Claire's throat tightened.
"Why are you here?"
"Because Robert made me promise that if anything ever happened to him, I'd tell you the truth when it became safe."
Claire unlocked her apartment.
"Come inside."
Margaret sat at the kitchen table but refused tea.
"Your father kept documents for years. Birth certificates, hospital records, and letters from Elena."
"What kind of letters?"
"Letters explaining why she'd been afraid."
Claire folded her hands tightly.
"Afraid of Lorenzo?"
Margaret nodded.
"Elena was supposed to marry Robert. They were deeply in love. But Lorenzo wanted her family connections, and he had enough power to destroy Robert's career."
Claire stared at the table.
"Then why didn't my father tell me?"
"Because some things were complicated by the time you were born."
Margaret's expression softened.
"Claire, there is something important you need to understand. Your father was not investigating Vincent because he hated him."
"Then why?"
"Because he believed Vincent was being used."
Claire looked up.
"Used for what?"
Margaret opened her handbag.
Inside was a sealed envelope.
On the front, in Robert Bennett's unmistakable handwriting, were the words:
For Claire, if Lorenzo Moretti ever comes looking for you.
Claire felt tears sting her eyes.
She broke the seal.
Inside was a letter.
My darling Claire,
If you're reading this, I've failed to tell you the truth myself.
The Moretti family has built its fortune on a lie. But the person you must fear isn't Vincent.
It's the man who raised him.
Claire continued reading.
Then stopped.
Her hands began trembling.
At the bottom of the letter, her father had written:
The child Elena gave birth to that winter was not Lorenzo's.
Claire looked at Margaret.
"Are you saying Vincent isn't Lorenzo's son?"
Margaret nodded slowly.
"That's what the original records suggest."
Claire stared at the paper.
"Then who's his father?"
Before Margaret could answer, someone knocked three times on the apartment door.
A man's voice spoke from the hallway.
"Claire? It's Daniel Mercer."
May you like
Then he added:
"Don't open the door. Someone followed me."
