Chapter 8 - THE WOMAN WHO KNEW THE TRUTH
“Sophia authorized the flight?”
Vincent stared at the photocopy.
I could see him struggling to understand.
Caldwell shook his head.
“Not officially. But someone using her initials requested that the cancellation be reversed.”
I examined the handwriting.
Sophia had written hundreds of thank-you notes for charity events.
Her elegant capital S was distinctive.
So was the way she curved the C.
I knew those letters.
“Why would she do this?” I whispered.
Vincent stood.
“I'll ask her.”
I looked at him.
“No.”
He stopped.
“Anna—”
“Not alone.”
For the first time, I saw him understand what I meant.
No more private conversations with Sophia.
No more explanations delivered to me afterward.
No more being excluded from decisions about my own life.
He nodded.
“Together.”
We arranged to meet Sophia the following afternoon at a quiet conference room in Providence.
I was nearing my thirty-first week of pregnancy.
My doctor had approved limited activity, but I needed frequent rest.
Vincent offered his arm as we entered.
I walked beside him without taking it.
Sophia was already waiting.
She looked thinner than before.
Her mother had recently passed away, and grief had left dark circles beneath her eyes.
When she saw me, she stood.
“Anna, how are you feeling?”
“The baby's doing well.”
Relief crossed her face.
“I'm glad.”
I placed the photocopy on the table.
“Did you write this?”
Sophia studied it.
Her expression changed.
“Yes.”
Vincent looked stunned.
“You knew the flight had been canceled?”
She swallowed.
“Richard told me it was a scheduling issue.”
“Why would you reverse it?” I asked.
Sophia folded her hands.
“Because Anthony said the trip was important.”
I stared.
“Important to whom?”
She looked at Vincent.
“To the company.”
Vincent's voice hardened.
“Explain.”
Sophia began describing what had happened during the week before our vacation.
Anthony had invited her to lunch.
He told her Vincent was becoming distracted.
He complained that pregnancy had changed our marriage.
He said the company needed Vincent focused.
Then he suggested Sophia accompany us to help persuade Vincent to attend a business meeting during the trip.
“I didn't want to go,” she whispered.
“Then why did you?” I asked.
Sophia looked ashamed.
“Because Anthony had been paying for my mother's treatment.”
The room fell silent.
“He said the financial arrangement might change if I refused.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
“Sophia, you should have told me.”
“I was afraid.”
I looked at her.
Fear I understood.
But fear didn't erase responsibility.
“You could have told me,” I said.
Sophia nodded.
“I should have.”
She continued.
Richard had given her several documents to sign.
One concerned access to the aircraft.
Another concerned the itinerary.
She admitted she hadn't read everything carefully.
“I thought I was helping,” she said.
“You helped put my daughter at risk.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
“I know.”
Vincent leaned forward.
“Did you know about the electrical problem?”
“No.”
“Did you know Anna's medical report was forged?”
Sophia shook her head.
“I thought it was real.”
“Did you know Anthony wanted Anna removed from the passenger list?”
She hesitated.
My heart sank.
“Sophia?”
She looked at me.
“Yes.”
I felt physically cold.
“What?”
“Anthony told me Anna shouldn't travel.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Sophia began crying harder.
“Because he said Vincent had already agreed.”
Vincent stood.
“I never agreed.”
“I know that now.”
I looked away.
All those months I'd believed Sophia was simply enjoying my husband's attention.
Now I understood something uglier.
She'd allowed Anthony to manipulate her grief and financial desperation.
But she'd also made choices that hurt me.
Both things could be true.
Vincent asked another question.
“Why did Richard tell you to check the electrical compartment?”
Sophia hesitated.
“He said a warning light might appear if the system hadn't been reset.”
“Did he tell you what would happen if it wasn't working?”
“No.”
“Did you report that the blue light was off?”
“Yes.”
“To Richard?”
She nodded.
“He told me not to worry.”
Vincent slowly sat down.
Then Sophia reached into her handbag.
“I kept something.”
She removed a folded boarding pass.
It was mine.
I recognized the date and flight number.
But something was written on the back.
A series of numbers.
And a time.
6:42 A.M.
The same time Vincent's credentials had been used to approve the inspection.
“Richard gave me this,” Sophia said.
“He told me to keep it until after the trip.”
“Why?” I asked.
She looked at me.
“Because if anyone questioned the flight arrangements, he said this would prove you agreed.”
I turned the boarding pass over.
There was a small blue ink mark beside my name.
A mark I'd seen before.
On every medical consent document Anthony's private physician had prepared.
Vincent noticed it too.
His expression changed.
“Sophia, who gave Richard the forged medical report?”
She hesitated.
Then she whispered a name.
“Dr. Eleanor Price.”
I knew that name.
She was Anthony Moretti's longtime physician.
And the woman who had repeatedly insisted I should transfer my prenatal care to a Moretti-approved hospital.
Vincent took the boarding pass.
“Did Eleanor know the flight was unsafe?”
Sophia looked down.
“I don't know.”
Then she said something that made both of us stop breathing.
“But the morning of the accident, I heard Richard tell her that if Anna went into labor, they would have to change the plan.”
I stared.
“What plan?”
May you like
Sophia's voice trembled.
“The plan to make sure your baby was born under the Moretti family's control.”
