Chapter 4 - The Locket
I had worn the locket since I was seven.
Inside was a photograph of Mom holding me as a baby.
Nothing else.
Or so I believed.
Giovanni’s security laboratory found the hidden compartment.
A technician separated the backing.
Inside was a tiny storage chip.
Twenty years old.
Damaged.
But readable.
Giovanni stood behind the technician as the first directory appeared.
ASHFORD CLINICAL.
My mother had hidden evidence around a child’s neck.
“You knew?” I asked Giovanni.
“No.”
“Your father did?”
“Possibly.”
The files contained trial reports, payments and patient numbers.
But several crucial documents were encrypted.
One directory required a physical authentication key.
Giovanni frowned.
“My father used a similar system.”
“So you can open it?”
“No.”
“Who can?”
He looked toward me.
“My mother.”
Her name was Sofia Moretti.
And unlike Lorenzo, she was alive.
She had lived in Sicily for fifteen years.
Giovanni had not spoken to her in eight.
“Why?”
“Family.”
“That answer means nothing.”
“It means I’m not discussing it.”
“Then neither are we using my mother’s files.”
He looked at me.
I expected anger.
Instead:
“Fair.”
That was annoying.
Giovanni arranged secure storage for the chip.
Then he offered the employment contract again.
“I don’t want to owe you.”
“Then work for your salary.”
“What exactly would I translate?”
“Legal correspondence. European acquisitions. Shipping contracts.”
“Anything illegal?”
“No.”
“You realize nobody believes that about you.”
“I’ve noticed.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Then Franco entered.
“Hannah’s video is spreading.”
My humiliation had reached millions of views.
Someone had uploaded Tyler pouring wine over me.
The Ashfords issued a statement.
They claimed I had verbally threatened Tyler before the incident.
A second edited video appeared.
It showed me glaring at him.
My response had been removed.
Rebecca announced that her family was considering legal action against “a disgruntled former employee.”
Giovanni watched silently.
“Don’t.”
He looked at me.
“Don’t what?”
“Destroy them for me.”
“You assume I planned to.”
“I saw your face.”
For the first time, he laughed.
“I’m not asking for revenge.”
“What are you asking for?”
“A job.”
He extended his hand.
I shook it.
“I’ll have my lawyer review the contract.”
“Good.”
“And no secret surveillance.”
“Reasonable.”
“No investigating my dating history.”
Franco coughed.
Giovanni stared at him.
“Franco?”
“I may have already—”
“Delete it.”
I laughed despite myself.
Then Franco’s phone rang.
His amusement disappeared.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“Someone just entered Mrs. Evans’s hospital room using an Ashford security credential.”
My blood froze.
“Mom?”
“She’s safe. Nurse interrupted him.”
“Who was it?”
Franco turned his screen toward us.
Security footage showed a blond man leaving the oncology floor.
May you like
Tyler Ashford.
And tucked beneath his jacket was my mother’s medical file.
