Chapter 2 - THE MAN HER MOTHER HAD WARNED HER ABOUT
“How sick is your mother?”
Dominic Moretti asked the question quietly.
But Sophia Carter reacted as though he had demanded the combination to a locked safe.
She tightened her hold on Lily.
“It's a private family matter, Mr. Moretti.”
“I understand.”
“Then please excuse us.”
She started toward the service hallway.
“Miss Carter.”
Sophia stopped.
Dominic glanced at Lily, whose little pink sock had finally slipped completely off her heel.
“Your daughter just informed me that your mother is dying. I don't think asking whether she's receiving proper care is unreasonable.”
Sophia looked down.
For four years, she had worked inside this mansion without once asking Dominic Moretti for a personal favor.
She had cleaned his rooms after dangerous men visited.
She had served coffee during conversations that stopped whenever she entered.
She had watched him make wealthy businessmen tremble with nothing more than a raised eyebrow.
But she had never seen him cruel to the staff.
That distinction mattered.
It just didn't make him safe.
“My mother has advanced heart failure,” she finally said. “She's receiving hospice care at home. Her doctors have told us to prepare for things to change quickly.”
Dominic's expression shifted.
“I'm sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“Does your sister know how serious it is?”
“Yes. That's why she's having the wedding now instead of next spring.”
Lily rested her cheek against Sophia's shoulder.
“Grandma gets tired.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
“She has the funny air thing.”
“Her oxygen,” Sophia explained softly.
Dominic nodded.
“Where in Pennsylvania?”
“Bellwether. About forty minutes outside Scranton.”
Something changed in his face.
It was brief.
But Sophia noticed.
“Bellwether?”
“Yes.”
“What's your mother's name?”
“Margaret Carter.”
Dominic went completely still.
Behind him, the two security guards exchanged a glance.
Sophia's discomfort deepened.
“Mr. Moretti?”
“Was your father named Thomas Carter?”
Her breath caught.
For several seconds, all she could hear was the distant hum of the mansion's heating system.
“My father died when I was seven.”
“That wasn't my question.”
“Yes,” she said. “His name was Thomas.”
Dominic looked toward the drawing still clutched in Lily's little hand.
The tall black figure.
The brown-haired woman.
The tiny yellow-haired child.
And that crooked word.
FRIEND.
“What happened to your father?” he asked.
Sophia felt something old and painful stir inside her.
“A factory fire.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
“Bellwether Mill,” he said.
It wasn't a question.
Sophia stepped backward.
“How do you know that?”
Dominic didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he turned toward his guards.
“Give us the foyer.”
Both men left without argument.
That frightened Sophia more than their presence had.
Dominic waited until they were alone.
“The fire happened in November 1999.”
Sophia stared.
“My mother was inside that building,” he continued.
Sophia's hand tightened around Lily.
“She died that night.”
A familiar newspaper headline flashed through Sophia's memory.
TWELVE DEAD IN BELLWETHER MILL DISASTER.
Her father's photograph had appeared beneath it.
Not among the victims.
Among the people blamed.
For twenty-seven years, the Carter family had lived with whispers that Thomas Carter had started the fire through criminal negligence.
There had never been a trial.
There had never been enough evidence to prove what happened.
But in a town where powerful families controlled factories, newspapers, and jobs, accusations could become permanent without ever becoming facts.
Sophia had grown up hearing strangers call her father a murderer.
And now she worked for the son of one of the victims.
“Your mother was Alessia Moretti?” she whispered.
Dominic nodded.
Sophia remembered the photograph.
Beautiful dark-haired woman.
Elegant coat.
A twelve-year-old boy standing beside her.
She had seen it in a newspaper clipping her mother kept hidden beneath old family pictures.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I didn't know who your father was.”
“You knew my last name.”
“Carter is hardly uncommon.”
“Your family owned businesses in Bellwether.”
“My father did.”
The distinction was deliberate.
Sophia heard it.
And suddenly she remembered something else.
Three months earlier, Margaret had called Sophia after seeing a photograph of Dominic in a business magazine.
She had asked whether Sophia felt safe working for him.
When Sophia said yes, Margaret had gone quiet.
Then she had said something strange.
Never confuse the son with the father, sweetheart. But never forget where the son came from.
Sophia hadn't understood.
Now she was beginning to.
“I need to go,” she said.
“You're leaving tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Take the company car.”
“No.”
“Sophia—”
“I said no.”
It was the first time she had interrupted him in four years.
Dominic didn't raise his voice.
“Your mother is dying. You have a three-year-old child. It's almost midnight, and there's freezing rain on the interstate. I'm offering transportation, not issuing an order.”
Sophia looked at him.
Then Lily lifted her head.
“Can Mr. Dominic come?”
“No, baby.”
“But Grandma likes nice boys.”
Sophia almost laughed.
Instead, her eyes filled.
Dominic crouched until he was level with Lily.
“Your mother gets to decide who goes with her.”
Lily considered this.
Then she offered him Mr. Whiskers.
Dominic accepted the worn rabbit with extraordinary seriousness.
“Thank you.”
Lily smiled.
“You can hold him.”
And for the first time Sophia could remember, Dominic Moretti looked completely defenseless.
He handed the rabbit back.
Then he stood.
“I'll give you paid leave for as long as you need. No conditions.”
Sophia swallowed.
“Why?”
Dominic looked toward the enormous staircase.
At its landing hung a portrait of his mother.
He had passed that painting thousands of times.
Tonight, he couldn't bring himself to look directly at it.
“Because twenty-seven years ago, both our families lost someone in the same building.”
Sophia felt cold.
“What exactly do you know about my father?”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
Then he answered.
“Your father was the man they blamed for killing my mother.”
May you like
And after a terrible silence, he added:
“But there's something I've never told anyone about the night she died.”
