Chapter 7 - THE WOMAN IN THE PORTRAIT
Everyone in Chicago believed Margaret Romano had died twenty years ago.
Alexander was fourteen.
Nicholas was six.
According to the family story, Margaret's car slid from an icy road into Lake Michigan.
Her body was never recovered.
Alexander rarely spoke about her.
But her portrait hung above the grand staircase in the Romano mansion.
A beautiful woman.
Dark hair.
Green eyes.
A smile that looked almost sad.
I had walked beneath that portrait hundreds of times.
Now Eleanor Laurent was telling me the dead woman was alive.
“Margaret survived the crash,” Eleanor said.
Gabriel looked stunned.
“You knew?”
“For three years.”
“And you said nothing?”
“She made me promise.”
I laughed.
“Apparently everyone in this family survives death and then starts making promises.”
Nobody argued.
“Why fake her death?” I asked.
Eleanor looked at Mia.
“Because Anthony discovered she was helping Vincent.”
Gabriel stepped forward.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Margaret hated Vincent.”
“She hated Anthony more.”
The story unfolded.
Anthony Romano had been powerful, controlling, and unfaithful.
Margaret discovered Samuel existed.
She realized Anthony had hidden a son before their marriage.
She felt humiliated.
Vincent used that resentment.
At first, Margaret helped him secretly move money.
Then information.
Then routes.
She believed Vincent only wanted to weaken Anthony.
But eventually she discovered the truth.
Vincent was arranging murders.
Starting wars.
Eliminating rivals.
Margaret tried to leave.
Vincent threatened Alexander and Nicholas.
So she staged her death.
For years, she lived overseas.
Then Anthony died.
She stayed hidden.
“Why return now?” I asked.
Eleanor's face tightened.
“Because Samuel had a child.”
Mia.
Gabriel understood first.
“The trust.”
“Yes.”
Margaret believed Mia threatened Alexander's inheritance.
I stared.
“That makes no sense. Alexander controls the company.”
“Not if Samuel's parentage becomes public.”
“Why?”
“Anthony's original succession documents named his firstborn biological son as primary heir.”
Samuel.
“And because Samuel is dead...”
Eleanor looked at Mia.
“His child inherits his claim.”
I felt sick.
“Alexander doesn't know?”
“No.”
“Vincent?”
“Yes.”
Suddenly the entire conspiracy looked different.
Vincent wanted Alexander dead.
Margaret wanted Mia hidden.
Perhaps dead.
Victoria had been caught between them.
“What happened today?” Gabriel asked.
Eleanor took a breath.
“Margaret ordered Victoria to remove the inhaler.”
My hands curled into fists.
“Victoria almost killed him.”
“She was told Alexander would experience a minor attack. Margaret wanted him hospitalized.”
“Why?”
“To force a board vote.”
Alexander's temporary incapacity would transfer authority to Vincent.
But Vincent changed the plan.
He altered the medical document.
He wanted Alexander dead.
Two conspiracies collided.
One wanted control.
One wanted murder.
And Mia exposed both.
“We have to warn Alexander,” I said.
Eleanor nodded.
“I tried.”
“Why couldn't you?”
“Margaret has his phone cloned.”
Gabriel cursed.
“Then she knows everything.”
“Yes.”
Including the false location Alexander gave Vincent.
St. Gabriel Hospital.
Alexander believed he was setting a trap.
Instead, he was walking into one.
We left Mia with six guards at a second secure location.
She hated it.
I hated it more.
But I promised I would return.
“Bring Mr. Romano back,” she said.
“I will.”
“And Grandpa.”
Gabriel looked surprised.
Mia shrugged.
“I haven't decided if I'm mad at him forever.”
Gabriel laughed through tears.
“Fair.”
We drove to Chicago.
St. Gabriel Hospital had been abandoned for almost a decade.
Alexander's convoy was already outside.
Too late.
We entered through a side door.
No guards.
No gunfire.
That was worse.
The building smelled like dust and antiseptic.
Gabriel led us toward the old intensive care wing.
“This is where Anthony died.”
Eleanor stopped.
“Room 417.”
We reached the fourth floor.
The door stood open.
Alexander was inside.
Alone.
Standing beside an empty hospital bed.
“Alexander.”
He turned.
“Isabella?”
Then he saw Eleanor.
His face hardened.
“What is she doing here?”
“She came to warn you.”
“About Vincent?”
“No.”
A woman's voice came from behind us.
“About me.”
Alexander froze.
A figure stepped from the darkness.
Margaret Romano.
His mother.
Alive.
Alexander's face became something I will never forget.
He looked fourteen years old.
“Mom?”
Margaret smiled.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
He didn't move.
Twenty years of grief stood between them.
“You're alive.”
“Yes.”
“Twenty years.”
“I know.”
“You let us bury an empty coffin.”
“I had no choice.”
“You always had a choice.”
Her smile faded.
“Not with your father.”
Alexander's pain hardened into anger.
“Did you take my inhaler?”
“I told Victoria to.”
“Why?”
“To protect you.”
He laughed.
“You nearly killed me.”
“Vincent changed the plan.”
“Everyone keeps saying they hurt me to protect me.”
Margaret stepped closer.
“I needed you away from the company for forty-eight hours.”
“Why?”
“Because Vincent was preparing to expose Samuel.”
Alexander looked at me.
He knew now.
“Mia.”
Margaret's expression changed.
“She should never have been brought into this.”
“She is my niece.”
“She is a Moretti.”
“She is a Romano.”
“No.”
Alexander's voice became cold.
“Yes.”
Margaret stared at him.
“You don't understand what that child represents.”
“I understand exactly what she represents.”
“What?”
“Family.”
The word hit Margaret harder than a threat.
She shook her head.
“You sound like your father.”
“Maybe he wasn't wrong about everything.”
Margaret's face twisted.
Then the doors slammed shut.
Locks clicked.
Gabriel reached for his weapon.
Gas began hissing through the vents.
Alexander covered his mouth.
“What did you do?”
Margaret looked confused.
“I didn't.”
Eleanor screamed.
“Vincent!”
A speaker crackled.
His voice filled the room.
“Thank you all for coming.”
Margaret's face went white.
“Vincent!”
He laughed.
“Did you really think I needed any of you alive?”
Gas poured faster.
Alexander began coughing.
His damaged lungs reacted immediately.
I ran to him.
Gabriel tried the door.
Locked.
Margaret pounded on the glass.
“Vincent!”
The speaker crackled again.
“One family.”
A pause.
“One room.”
Another pause.
“One funeral.”
Alexander collapsed to his knees.
May you like
And when I reached into his jacket for the inhaler Mia had returned to him...
The pocket was empty.
