Chapter 6 - The Woman I Buried
I stared until the faces blurred.
“That isn’t possible.”
Nobody argued.
My mother’s funeral had been closed-casket because of “postmortem complications.”
I had never questioned it.
At nineteen, grief makes bureaucracy look like truth.
Grant checked the image metadata.
Not conclusive.
But likely genuine.
“Where was this taken?”
Dante recognized the building.
“Geneva.”
Moretti Global maintained offices there.
We found another photograph in the storage locker.
Same room.
Same people.
This one showed Vanessa much younger.
Maybe twenty-two.
My mother sat beside her.
Daniel Vale stood behind them.
On the table was a document labeled Project Meridian.
Dante’s expression changed.
“I know that name.”
“What is it?”
“An ownership contingency.”
Moretti Global’s most sensitive assets had been placed decades earlier into a complicated trust called Meridian.
Dante believed it existed to protect the company from hostile takeover.
He had never seen the complete documents.
“Who controls it?”
“Me.”
“Are you sure?”
He didn’t answer.
That frightened me.
Owen had claimed Vanessa wanted something stolen from my family.
My mother’s records suggested the same.
Yet my mother had apparently been alive while I mourned her.
I felt anger beginning to replace grief.
“If she survived, why didn’t she come back?”
Dante looked at me.
“I don’t know.”
“I buried her.”
“I know.”
“She let me.”
No comforting lie came.
Good.
Then Grant discovered a scheduled payment attached to the storage unit.
Every six months.
From Meridian Administrative Holdings.
Dante stared at the screen.
“My trust paid for this locker?”
“Yes.”
“Without my authorization?”
“Apparently.”
Someone inside Moretti Global had been protecting my mother’s evidence.
Or monitoring it.
Then Grant received another alert.
Vanessa had left the Moretti mansion.
Destination unknown.
Dante made a decision.
“We go home.”
“To confront her?”
“No.”
“To let her think she still controls the board.”
His shareholders had been told Dante survived.
By morning, markets would know.
Vanessa had failed.
Whatever she did next would be desperate.
We arrived at the mansion before dawn.
Vanessa was gone.
Her bedroom safe was open.
Jewelry untouched.
Passport gone.
One object remained.
A letter addressed to Dante.
He opened it.
You were never supposed to be in the car.
His face hardened.
“What?”
He handed it to me.
I continued.
Owen changed the schedule. The brakes were meant to fail tomorrow.
Tomorrow?
Dante looked at Grant.
“Who was using my car tomorrow?”
Grant checked.
Then went pale.
“Mrs. Moretti.”
Silence.
The sabotage had been installed in Dante’s car.
But Vanessa claimed she was supposed to be driving it.
Which meant either Vanessa was lying—
or someone had tried to kill her.
Then I noticed another line.
Ask the waitress why her mother taught me to fear the Moretti name.
At the bottom was an address.
No signature.
Grant searched it.
A private medical residence outside Chicago.
Registered patient:
Elaine Fields.
My knees almost gave out.
Dante caught me.
“She’s alive.”
I looked at him.
“No.”
May you like
My voice came out colder than expected.
“If that woman is my mother, she’d better explain why she chose to be dead.”
