Chapter 3 - THE WATCH ELENA NEVER MENTIONED
Clara stared at the silver watch.
Her mother owned one exactly like it.
For years it had sat in the same blue sewing box as the black-rose necklace.
Clara had assumed it belonged to the father Elena said died before Clara could remember him.
Now the stranger held its twin.
Vincent stepped between them.
“Name.”
“Daniel Cross.”
Rebecca closed her eyes.
Vincent noticed.
“You know him.”
“I hired him.”
Clara turned sharply.
Rebecca did not look proud.
“I hired Daniel six months ago to find Teresa.”
Vincent’s anger was quiet.
“You knew she was alive.”
“I discovered she was alive.”
“And instead of telling me?”
“I needed to know why Mother spent years hiding her.”
Daniel glanced toward the house.
“We shouldn’t stand outside.”
Vincent didn’t move.
“You threatened Clara in the alley.”
“I thought she was working with Mercer.”
“You reached inside your coat.”
“For my phone.”
Clara remembered.
He had never actually drawn a weapon.
Another assumption rearranged itself.
“Why tell me to leave Sofia?”
“Because Mercer’s people were two minutes behind me.”
Daniel looked at Clara.
“I was trying to get you away before they saw you.”
“That’s not what it sounded like.”
“No.”
His expression was tired.
“It wasn’t my finest introduction.”
Sofia tightened her arms around Vincent.
“Papa, I want Clara.”
Clara immediately moved closer.
Vincent looked at Rebecca.
“Take us inside.”
Rebecca hesitated.
“Not the medical wing.”
Vincent’s jaw hardened.
“No.”
They moved into the library.
Sofia sat between Vincent and Clara beneath a wool blanket.
Rebecca remained standing.
Daniel placed the watch on the table.
Samuel refused to sit anywhere near him.
Teresa remained on Sofia’s prepaid phone.
Vincent finally said, “Start talking.”
Rebecca did.
Three months earlier, she had discovered regular payments from a Moretti family account to St. Agnes Assisted Living under Teresa Vale’s name.
Their mother, Lucia, had established them before her death.
Rebecca had assumed fraud.
Then she found Teresa.
“She told me Mother had protected Elena Mendoza,” Rebecca said.
Clara looked at her.
“Why?”
Rebecca’s eyes shifted to the photograph Clara still held.
“Because Elena was pregnant with our father’s child.”
The words hurt more spoken aloud.
Vincent noticed Clara’s hands trembling.
He didn’t touch her.
He simply moved a glass of water closer.
Clara appreciated that more.
Rebecca continued.
“Father wanted Elena gone.”
“Gone how?” Vincent asked.
“I don’t know.”
Samuel answered.
“I do.”
Everyone turned.
“Carlo loved Elena,” Samuel said. “But Carlo also loved control. When Elena became pregnant, Lucia learned about the affair.”
Clara looked toward Teresa’s phone.
“And she helped my mother?”
Teresa answered.
“Lucia was furious with Carlo. Not with Elena.”
Her voice cracked.
“She said no child should pay for an adult’s betrayal.”
Clara swallowed hard.
That sounded painfully like something her own mother would say.
“So Lucia gave my mother money?”
“No,” Teresa said.
“She gave her a choice.”
A job in another city.
A new apartment.
Privacy.
“And the necklace,” Samuel added.
Clara looked at the Polaroid.
The black rose.
“Carlo gave Elena the necklace. Lucia gave her the watch.”
Daniel pushed the silver pocket watch toward Clara.
“Two identical watches were made.”
He opened the lid.
Inside was an engraving.
L.M. — Keep the truth where time cannot erase it.
“Lucia Moretti,” Clara whispered.
Daniel nodded.
“Your mother has the other one.”
Vincent looked at Rebecca.
“How does Mercer fit into this?”
Rebecca’s face changed.
“He treated Father after his heart problems began.”
“Father didn’t have heart problems.”
“Exactly.”
Silence.
Daniel explained that Carlo’s medical records had been altered months before his death.
Someone created a history of cardiac trouble that did not exist.
Mercer signed every entry.
But that still did not prove murder.
“What does the photograph prove?” Vincent asked.
Samuel looked toward Sofia.
“Not in front of her.”
Sofia frowned.
“I’m seven, not a baby.”
Despite everything, Clara nearly smiled.
Vincent kissed his daughter’s hair.
“And seven-year-olds need sleep.”
“I’m not sleeping if Dr. Mercer is here.”
That ended the discussion.
Vincent ordered two security men he trusted personally to search the property.
Mercer was gone.
His car remained.
His medical bag remained.
His phone remained.
But the doctor had disappeared.
Rebecca looked toward the doorway.
“He knows we found the room.”
“No,” Daniel said.
“He knew before tonight.”
“How?”
Daniel pointed to Sofia.
“Because Sofia took the photograph.”
The child became very still.
Vincent noticed.
“Sofia?”
She looked guilty.
“I didn’t steal it.”
“No one said you did.”
“I borrowed it.”
Clara crouched beside her.
“Where is it?”
Sofia reached beneath the collar of her dress.
Nothing.
Her eyes widened.
“I had it.”
“When?”
“At the greenhouse.”
Rebecca knelt.
“What was in the picture?”
Sofia looked at her aunt.
“You.”
Rebecca froze.
“And Grandpa.”
Nobody moved.
Sofia continued.
“And Dr. Mercer.”
Vincent’s voice became careful.
“What were they doing?”
“Grandpa was on the floor.”
Rebecca’s face drained.
Sofia looked confused by the adults’ reactions.
“You were holding his head.”
Rebecca whispered, “No.”
“And Dr. Mercer had a needle.”
Vincent stood.
The room changed instantly.
Rebecca shook her head.
“That photograph doesn’t exist.”
Samuel stared at her.
“Yes, it does.”
“You said you never saw what happened.”
“I didn’t.”
Samuel’s voice broke.
“Lucia did.”
Vincent turned toward his sister.
Rebecca backed away.
“I was twenty-nine. Father collapsed. Mercer told me he was having a heart attack. I was trying to help him.”
Daniel spoke quietly.
“That may be true.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“But someone photographed you.”
“Mother,” Vincent said.
Samuel nodded.
Lucia had witnessed Carlo’s final minutes.
She had kept evidence.
And Rebecca had spent months hiding the woman who knew why.
Clara suddenly understood something.
“You weren’t hiding Teresa from Vincent.”
Rebecca looked at her.
“You were hiding her from Mercer.”
“Yes.”
“Then why threaten me?”
Rebecca’s composure cracked.
“Because the moment I heard your name, I knew exactly who you were.”
Clara’s chest tightened.
“You recognized me in the foyer.”
“I recognized Elena.”
Rebecca’s eyes filled.
“You look just like her.”
“Then why threaten my mother?”
“Because I panicked.”
It was not an excuse.
Rebecca knew it.
“I had spent months keeping Teresa alive. Then Sofia disappeared, you walked into this house, and you had the greenhouse key. I thought everything was collapsing.”
Vincent stared at his sister.
“You could have trusted me.”
Rebecca laughed once.
It held no humor.
“Could I?”
The question landed harder than anyone expected.
“You became Father after he died, Vincent. Same house. Same men. Same rules. Nobody tells you anything until you’ve already decided what it means.”
Vincent’s expression hardened.
Then softened.
Only slightly.
That was enough for Clara to see she had hit something true.
Sofia suddenly tugged Clara’s sleeve.
“Clara?”
“Yes?”
“I remember where I put the picture.”
Every adult turned.
Sofia pointed toward Clara’s apron.
“You had two pockets.”
Clara reached into the left pocket.
Nothing.
Then the right.
Her fingers touched folded paper.
She pulled out a photograph.
She had never noticed Sofia slipping it there.
Vincent took it.
Carlo lay on the floor of the greenhouse.
Rebecca knelt beside him.
Mercer held a syringe.
But another person stood in the background.
A woman.
Clara leaned closer.
The woman wore a St. Matthew’s Rehabilitation Center employee badge.
Clara recognized her instantly.
Her mother.
“Elena,” Vincent whispered.
On the back, Lucia had written one sentence.
Elena saw everything. If anything happens to me, find her.
Clara’s phone rang from inside her apron.
St. Matthew’s.
She answered.
A nurse spoke rapidly.
Clara stopped breathing.
“What do you mean she’s gone?”
Vincent was already standing.
The nurse repeated herself.
Elena Mendoza had signed herself out forty minutes earlier.
Clara looked at the photograph.
“My mother can barely walk without assistance.”
Then Sofia whispered:
“Clara?”
Clara turned.
The little girl was staring at the photograph.
Not at Elena.
May you like
At Mercer.
“He has Grandma Elena’s coat.”
