Chapter 10 - The Woman Who Finally Told the Truth|
Isabella Romano arrived at the police station wearing a cream-colored coat and dark sunglasses.
For seven weeks, she'd been planning a wedding.
Now she was walking into an interview room with an attorney beside her.
Her engagement was over.
Victor Hale had disappeared.
And the man she'd expected to marry was cooperating with investigators examining her role in the conspiracy.
Dante wasn't present for the interview.
Detective Vargas had advised him to remain away.
He agreed.
Not because he trusted Isabella.
But because he finally understood that demanding answers through intimidation could destroy the truth before anyone had a chance to prove it.
He spent the morning at the hospital.
Dr. Bennett reviewed his progress.
The incision was healing.
His headaches remained, though some episodes were becoming less severe.
The medication review was continuing.
There were still gaps in his memory.
And no physician could promise that every symptom would disappear.
But Dante was beginning to feel more alert during the afternoons.
For years, those had been his worst hours.
He'd been told to sleep.
To avoid meetings.
To let Victor handle urgent matters.
Now he was slowly rebuilding a schedule around medical advice and his own preferences.
At noon, Vargas called.
“Isabella's attorney has indicated she's willing to provide information.”
Dante looked out the window.
“About the bombing?”
“Among other things.”
He closed his eyes.
“Did she know?”
Vargas paused.
“According to her initial account, she knew Victor intended to stage damage to your vehicle. She claims she was told you would not be present.”
Dante gripped the phone.
“And afterward?”
“That's where her statements become more complicated.”
“What does that mean?”
“She says Victor convinced her your injuries would improve if he controlled your treatment and reduced your responsibilities.”
Dante gave a bitter laugh.
“She believed that?”
“She claims she did.”
He stared at the city.
“Did she know about the medication changes?”
“Investigators are reviewing her communications with Dr. Lang.”
Dante looked down.
He remembered Isabella bringing his pills.
Smiling.
Kissing his forehead.
Telling him everything would be okay.
And all the while, Victor gained more control.
“Why?” Dante whispered.
Vargas answered carefully.
“We have evidence of financial motives, but we'll distinguish what each person knew and did.”
Dante nodded.
Then asked, “Did she say anything about the device?”
“Yes.”
He went still.
“What?”
“She claims Victor told her it was a medical identification component placed during your treatment.”
Dante stared.
“Did she ask whether I consented?”
Vargas hesitated.
“That's part of what we're examining.”
A long silence followed.
Then Vargas said something unexpected.
“Dante, Isabella also described Victor keeping a second set of financial records.”
He frowned.
“Where?”
“At an office outside the city.”
“Which office?”
“She provided an address.”
He slowly exhaled.
For the first time, there was a route to proving what had happened.
Not just suspicions.
Not just memories.
Actual records.
The following day, investigators searched the office under a warrant.
They recovered financial documents, communications, and storage devices.
Several files concerned the staged bombing.
Others described asset transfers executed during Dante's recovery.
One set of records involved payments to Dr. Lang's consulting company.
Another contained false medical authorization forms.
The documents also showed Victor had been planning to consolidate additional control over Moretti businesses after Dante's marriage to Isabella.
The wedding had not been merely a personal event.
It was part of a broader arrangement.
If Dante married Isabella, several ownership and management changes would have been triggered by agreements he'd supposedly approved.
Some of those signatures were now being investigated as possible forgeries.
Dante felt sick when he learned.
He had spent seven weeks planning a future with a woman who might have viewed the marriage as another financial transaction.
That evening, he sat alone in the library.
The rain tapped against the windows.
The fire burned low.
He looked toward the leather sofa where Sophie had found the object.
A few weeks earlier, he'd fallen asleep there believing his symptoms were simply something he had to endure.
Now he knew his life had been shaped by decisions other people made without his informed consent.
A soft knock sounded.
“Come in.”
Anna entered.
“Sir, Sophie wanted to give you something.”
Dante looked up.
“What is it?”
Anna held out a drawing.
It showed a large house.
A garden.
Three people standing beneath a bright yellow sun.
One was tall and wore a black shirt.
One had brown hair.
The smallest wore a pink bow.
Dante smiled faintly.
“Is that us?”
Anna nodded.
“She says it's the day everyone stops being scared.”
His expression changed.
For several seconds, he simply stared at the page.
Then he asked, “Where is she?”
“Asleep.”
He nodded.
“Tell her I like it.”
Anna smiled.
“I will.”
As she turned to leave, Dante spoke.
“Anna.”
She stopped.
“Yes, sir?”
“I need to ask you something.”
She looked concerned.
“What?”
“Do people feel safe working here?”
The question surprised her.
She hesitated.
Then answered honestly.
“Not always.”
Dante lowered his eyes.
He had spent years believing fear meant loyalty.
That people followed orders because they respected him.
Now he understood how easily fear could be used to hide wrongdoing.
He nodded.
“Thank you for telling me.”
Anna smiled sadly.
Then left.
Dante looked down at Sophie's picture again.
A sunny day.
A house.
Three people who weren't afraid.
May you like
For the first time in years, he realized that was a kind of power he'd never learned to value.
And it was the kind he wanted to build.
