Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO CARRIED MY SONS
Rafael looked at the ultrasound for a long moment.
Then he gave a tired smile.
"Four boys are sitting right there, Alejandro. I don't need to be a doctor to know there were four heartbeats."
It was a reasonable answer.
Almost.
But I'd spent my life negotiating with men who could smile while ordering someone's death.
And Rafael had just given me the kind of answer those men gave when they needed another minute to think.
"Leave the property," I said.
He stared at me.
"You're dismissing me?"
"For tonight."
"Those vehicles are there to protect you."
"Then send them away."
"Alejandro—"
"Now."
Rafael's expression changed.
For an instant, I saw anger beneath the familiar concern.
Then he nodded.
"You're making a mistake."
"Maybe."
He approached the doorway.
Before leaving, he turned toward Elena.
"I hope you understand the consequences of what you've started."
I stepped between them.
"She answers to me."
Rafael left without another word.
I waited until my guard confirmed that all three SUVs had departed.
Then I sent two men I trusted personally to check the grounds.
Neither reported to Rafael.
When the house was quiet again, I turned to Elena.
"Tell me everything."
She sat down heavily.
The boys were growing restless.
Luca had fallen asleep against Tomas's shoulder.
Nico was playing with the paper napkins.
Mateo kept watching the door through which Rafael had disappeared.
"First," Elena said, "they need somewhere comfortable."
I almost argued.
Instead, I led them into the sunroom.
Sofia had filled it with plants years earlier.
A yellow couch stood beside the windows, and a faded woven rug covered the floor.
Mateo immediately climbed onto the couch.
"Do you have cartoons?"
"No," I admitted.
He looked disappointed.
"But I have a television."
"Does it have dinosaurs?"
"I can probably arrange dinosaurs."
That satisfied him.
Elena found a children's program, and within minutes all four boys were sitting together, their small shoulders touching.
I stood in the doorway.
My sons.
I couldn't make myself say it aloud yet.
Elena joined me.
"They're good boys."
"Where have they lived?"
"Mostly with Rosa. I helped whenever I could."
"And Sofia?"
Elena swallowed.
"She was happier than I'd seen her in years when Dr. Vale confirmed the pregnancy. Then the next scan showed four babies."
I remembered Sofia's final weeks.
She'd seemed distracted.
She'd spent more time with Elena.
She'd started knitting again.
I'd found a little blue blanket in her closet after the funeral.
I'd assumed she was making it for a friend's baby.
Now I understood.
"Why didn't she tell me immediately?"
"Because she found something."
"What?"
"Financial records. Missing payments from a charitable shipping fund she helped establish."
I frowned.
Sofia had created that fund to support widows and families of injured dockworkers.
She'd insisted that my legitimate businesses should do something useful for the city.
"Who was stealing?"
"She didn't tell me. But she said the person involved would do anything to keep control of the money."
I looked toward the boys.
"What does that have to do with them?"
"Your father helped Sofia establish a family trust. If you had children, they would eventually inherit her interest in the waterfront properties."
I remembered signing the original agreements years earlier.
I'd barely paid attention.
At the time, having children seemed like a distant dream.
Elena continued.
"Sofia discovered someone had been quietly moving those assets into companies she didn't recognize."
"Rafael handled those accounts."
"I know."
The implication hung between us.
But suspicion wasn't proof.
And I refused to condemn a man I'd trusted for twenty years without knowing the truth.
"Why did Sofia write that warning against me?" I asked.
Elena looked away.
"Because she knew you'd try to protect the children with the same men who protected your empire."
A terrible thought occurred to me.
"She thought someone close to me was involved."
"Yes."
"And she couldn't warn me without that person finding out."
Elena nodded.
I looked down at the photograph again.
KEEP THEM SAFE FROM ALEJANDRO.
Not because Sofia believed I would hurt our children.
Because anyone who came looking for them through me could find them.
I sat down.
For five years, I'd believed my wife died without leaving me anything but memories.
Now I had four sons.
And a betrayal buried somewhere inside my own house.
"There's someone you need to speak with," Elena said.
"Rosa?"
"Dr. Miriam Vale. She kept records of the pregnancy. Sofia trusted her."
I took out my phone.
Elena caught my wrist.
"Not on your regular line."
She was right.
Rafael controlled too many parts of my security network.
I used Elena's old phone to arrange a meeting through the clinic's public reception desk.
Dr. Vale agreed to see us after her final patient.
I sent a driver to collect her and kept Elena beside the boys.
Two hours later, a silver-haired woman in a navy coat entered my study.
She carried no dramatic promises.
Only a worn folder of medical photographs and a sadness I recognized immediately.
"Mr. Moretti," she said, "Sofia was my friend."
"Then tell me why she died without telling me about our sons."
Dr. Vale sat across from me.
"She intended to tell you on the evening of the accident."
My chest tightened.
"How do you know?"
"Because she came to my office that morning. She had four new ultrasound pictures printed."
I looked at the photograph still lying on my desk.
"And?"
"She told me she finally had enough evidence to confront the person threatening the pregnancy."
"What evidence?"
"I don't know. But someone entered my office that afternoon and searched through her medical files."
"Who?"
Dr. Vale shook her head.
"We never identified the visitor."
She paused.
"There's something else, Mr. Moretti."
I waited.
"Sofia was carrying an envelope when she left. She said she was taking it straight to you."
My fingers tightened around the chair.
"Did the police find it?"
"No."
I remembered collecting Sofia's belongings from the hospital.
Her purse.
Her wedding ring.
Her broken watch.
No envelope.
Dr. Vale leaned forward.
"Your wife didn't die while running away from you, Alejandro."
Her eyes filled.
"She died while trying to come home."
Then she placed a second ultrasound photograph on my desk.
May you like
On the back, in Sofia's handwriting, were three words.
ASK ABOUT EIGHT-SEVENTEEN.
