Chapter 6
Grace Moretti answered her phone on the second ring.
That surprised everyone.
Marco put it on speaker.
“Grace.”
Her voice was calm.
“Marco.”
“Where are you?”
“Driving.”
“Where?”
“North.”
Luca stepped closer.
“Grace.”
Silence.
Then:
“Hello, Luca.”
“You have Elena’s journal.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Arthur was going to destroy it.”
Arthur stood.
“No.”
Grace laughed softly through the speaker.
“You already burned one copy.”
Everyone turned toward him.
Arthur went pale.
“What?”
Luca asked.
Arthur closed his eyes.
“Victoria ordered me to.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
“The year Elena died.”
“Yes.”
“Was the journal evidence?”
“Yes.”
“Of poisoning?”
Arthur swallowed.
“Yes.”
Luca looked like he might cross the room.
I stepped between them without thinking.
Not because Arthur deserved protection.
Because Luca did not need another regret.
He stopped.
Looked at me.
I said quietly:
“Later.”
His jaw tightened.
Then nodded.
Grace heard.
“Claire.”
I stared at the phone.
“Yes.”
“You sound like Anne.”
“Apparently everyone says that.”
“I knew her.”
My chest tightened.
“How?”
“She helped raise me for one summer.”
“What?”
Marina went still.
Grace continued:
“When my mother Elise disappeared.”
“Your mother.”
“Yes.”
“My father Gabriel brought me to Anne.”
My stomach dropped.
“How old were you?”
“Six.”
“And I?”
“Three.”
I stared.
“We lived together.”
“For two months.”
“I don’t remember.”
“I do.”
Silence.
Grace’s voice softened.
“You followed me everywhere.”
I almost laughed.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t know who you were until years later.”
“Then?”
“I thought staying away was safer.”
I closed my eyes.
That word again.
“Do not say protection.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
Good.
Luca asked:
“Where is the journal?”
“Safe.”
“Bring it.”
“No.”
“Grace.”
“I need to verify one thing first.”
“What?”
“The poisoner.”
Silence.
“You know a name?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I don’t trust the journal.”
Arthur stared.
“Elena wrote it.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Someone added pages after she died.”
Silence.
My skin crawled.
“Who?”
Grace answered:
“Isabella.”
Everyone looked at her.
Isabella went white.
“No.”
Grace continued:
“Her handwriting appears on three pages.”
Isabella shook her head.
“I never saw the journal.”
“Then someone forged you.”
Luca stared.
“Again.”
Digital signature.
Handwriting.
Biometrics.
People kept stealing identities inside this family.
Grace continued:
“I’m taking the journal to a forensic document examiner.”
“Where?”
“Albany.”
Marco typed.
“Name?”
“Dr. Helen Shaw.”
Arthur nodded.
“She’s legitimate.”
Luca’s eyes narrowed.
“You trust her?”
“More than I trust anyone here.”
Fair.
Grace said:
“I will send results in two hours.”
“No.”
Luca’s voice hardened.
“You come back.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Victoria has people left.”
“She is in custody.”
“Her network is not.”
That sounded familiar.
Luca did not like it.
Neither did I.
Grace continued:
“And Claire.”
“Yes?”
“Do not let Sofia open Elena’s birthday letter.”
I froze.
“What?”
Everyone looked toward the safe.
The letter Isabella said Elena left.
“To Sofia.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It contains a trigger phrase.”
“What phrase?”
“I don’t know.”
“What does it trigger?”
“The archive release.”
Silence.
Luca stared.
“What does release mean?”
Arthur answered quietly:
“Copies leave private control.”
“To where?”
“Several journalists. prosecutors. attorneys.”
“Automatic?”
“Yes.”
“Why is that bad?”
“Because the archive contains victims too.”
The identity files.
Children.
Illegal adoptions.
People hidden from abusers.
Witnesses.
Publishing blindly could destroy them.
Elena had built a dead-man release.
But maybe Sofia’s birthday letter accidentally triggered everything at eight.
Or intentionally.
Grace continued:
“If someone altered the letter, one phrase could publish the archive.”
Luca looked toward the safe.
“Isabella.”
She stared.
“I didn’t touch the letter.”
“Arthur?”
He shook his head.
“I inventoried it. Never opened.”
“Victoria?”
Arthur looked uncertain.
“Could have.”
Luca looked at Marco.
“Secure it.”
Marco moved.
Diesel moved first.
He ran toward the safe room.
We followed.
The safe was open.
Again.
The birthday letter—
gone.
Luca stopped.
“No.”
Marco checked cameras.
Looped.
Again.
I felt cold.
Someone inside the house.
Not Arthur.
Not Victoria.
Not Grace.
Someone else.
Diesel sniffed the floor.
Then ran toward the staff corridor.
My stomach tightened.
He stopped outside Clara’s room.
Barked.
No.
Clara opened the door.
Confused.
“What?”
Diesel pushed past her.
Sniffed a laundry basket.
Pulled out a white envelope.
Elena’s letter.
Clara went pale.
“I did not put that there.”
Luca stared.
“I believe you.”
Good.
No accusation.
Not this time.
I picked up the envelope carefully.
“Why hide it here?”
Marco looked around.
“Someone expected us to blame staff.”
My stomach turned.
Of course.
The easiest people to accuse.
The people nobody listened to.
I knew that.
Luca did too.
His face hardened.
“Search every executive guest room before one staff room.”
Marco nodded.
“Done.”
That mattered more than he knew.
I looked at the letter.
Sealed.
Elena’s handwriting.
SOFIA — OPEN ON YOUR EIGHTH BIRTHDAY.
Two weeks.
We placed it in evidence.
No one opened.
Not yet.
Grace called ninety minutes later.
Her voice had changed.
“Luca.”
“What?”
“The journal is authentic through page eighty-three.”
“And after?”
“Inserted pages.”
“Whose handwriting?”
“Not Isabella.”
She exhaled.
“Victoria.”
Silence.
“Which pages?”
“The ones naming Isabella as poisoner.”
Isabella started crying.
Relief.
Anger.
Both.
Luca looked away.
Grace continued:
“Elena’s authentic final entry names someone else.”
His face hardened.
“Who?”
A pause.
“Arthur.”
Everyone looked at him.
He stopped breathing.
“No.”
Grace continued:
“She wrote: Arthur brought the tea. Arthur changed the medication schedule. Arthur knows Victoria told him it was only sedative.”
Arthur’s face collapsed.
“No.”
Luca stepped forward.
“You poisoned her.”
“No.”
“You brought the tea.”
“Yes.”
“You changed medication.”
“Yes.”
“But I did not know it was poison.”
Silence.
That could be true.
Or not.
Arthur cried.
Real tears.
“I thought Victoria wanted Elena sleepy for the trust signing.”
Marina stared.
“You drugged my sister.”
“Yes.”
“And she died.”
“I know.”
Luca’s face turned cold.
“You left after she got sick.”
“I panicked.”
There was that word.
I hated it.
Arthur continued:
“I found out later.”
“When?”
“The autopsy.”
“And did nothing.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Victoria threatened my daughter.”
Silence.
Arthur had a daughter.
Of course.
Luca laughed bitterly.
“Who?”
Arthur looked toward the stairs.
No.
My skin went cold.
“Eva?”
Marina stood.
“No.”
Arthur shook his head.
“Not Eva.”
“Then who?”
He looked at me.
“Sofia.”
The room froze.
Luca’s face went blank.
“What?”
Arthur whispered:
“I am Sofia’s biological father.”
Silence.
No.
Impossible.
Luca stepped forward.
Arthur rushed:
“IVF.”
Again.
This family loved medical theft.
“Elena’s embryos.”
“What are you saying?”
“Victoria switched samples.”
Luca’s eyes went murderous.
Arthur held up both hands.
“I didn’t know until after Sofia was born.”
Marina whispered:
“No.”
Arthur looked broken.
“Victoria told me Sofia was mine so I would protect the trust.”
Luca stared.
“My daughter is mine.”
“Yes.”
Arthur’s voice broke.
“I know what the records say.”
“What records?”
“St. Dominic’s.”
Nobody trusted those.
Not anymore.
I looked at Luca.
He looked at me.
Same thought.
New independent DNA.
Again.
Marco’s phone rang before anyone spoke.
He answered.
Then went pale.
“What?”
Luca asked.
“Grace.”
“What about her?”
“Her car was found.”
Silence.
“Where?”
“Roadside north of Poughkeepsie.”
“Grace?”
“Missing.”
My stomach dropped.
“And the journal?”
Marco swallowed.
Before Marco left to search for Grace, I looked at Arthur.
“You said Sofia might be yours.”
His face tightened.
“I said Victoria told me she was.”
“Did you ever believe her?”
“For years.”
Luca’s jaw hardened.
Arthur looked at him.
“I never tried to take her.”
“You helped poison her mother.”
“I know.”
“That is worse.”
“Yes.”
Arthur did not argue.
I asked:
“What did Victoria want from you?”
“Obedience.”
“Why did you give it?”
He looked toward the stairs.
“My daughter.”
“Who?”
He swallowed.
“Her name was Lily.”
Silence.
“Was?”
Arthur’s eyes filled.
“She died when she was five.”
No one moved.
“Victoria convinced me Elena’s archive contained the medical settlement that could prove malpractice.”
“So she used grief.”
“Yes.”
“Did it?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“By the time I learned that, Elena was dead.”
Luca looked at him.
Arthur continued:
“Victoria kept telling me one more favor would get me the file.”
“One more.”
“Yes.”
“Tea.”
“Yes.”
“Medication schedule.”
“Yes.”
“Safe access.”
“Yes.”
I hated how ordinary manipulation sounded when broken into steps.
Not one giant evil decision.
A staircase.
One compromise.
Then another.
Arthur looked at me.
“I am not asking you to understand.”
“Good.”
“I just need you to know I did not wake up planning to kill Elena.”
Luca’s voice became quiet.
“But she still died.”
Arthur closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
That was the part nobody could negotiate away.
“Gone.”
Grace’s abandoned scarf had been found in the car too.
Blue wool.
One corner torn.
I held it carefully while Marco photographed it.
“She wore this at the estate last winter.”
Luca looked at me.
“You remember?”
“I served coffee during the trust review.”
Grace had thanked me by name.
I remembered that now.
Not because she knew me as staff.
Because she knew I was family and said nothing.
The realization hurt in a smaller, stranger way than the bigger lies.
People could hide truth even while being kind.
That was becoming one of the hardest lessons.
May you like
Someone had taken Grace.
And Elena’s only authentic account of her murder had disappeared with her.
