Chapter 4 - THE NECKLACE MY SISTER SHOULDN'T HAVE WORN
"Take off my wife's necklace."
Valentina didn't move.
She stood in the doorway, one hand pressed against the pearls around her throat.
"Dante, please."
"Take. It. Off."
Giulia pulled Mia closer.
Carlo turned away.
My sister unclasped the necklace with shaking fingers.
She laid it on my desk.
"Chiara gave it to me," she whispered.
"Before she died?"
Valentina nodded.
"Three days before."
I remembered that necklace.
I'd bought it for Chiara on our fifth wedding anniversary.
She'd worn it at our last Christmas dinner, smiling while Lorenzo teased her about my terrible gift-wrapping.
Then she died.
And I never saw the pearls again.
For years, I'd assumed they were locked among her belongings.
Now my sister was wearing them.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you couldn't bear to look at anything that reminded you of her."
It was true.
After the funeral, I closed our bedroom for six months.
I couldn't listen to her favorite music.
I couldn't even walk through the garden where she'd planted roses.
But that didn't explain the note.
I held it up.
"Who wrote this?"
Valentina stared at it.
"I don't know."
"Who gave Mia the key?"
"I don't know that either."
"Then start telling me what you do know."
She looked at Carlo.
Something passed between them.
Not an agreement.
A warning.
Carlo spoke first.
"Dante, open the music cabinet."
I turned toward him.
"Why?"
"Because Chiara told me she'd hidden something there. I never knew what."
Valentina closed her eyes.
"You promised her," she murmured.
Carlo looked at my sister.
"I promised to protect Dante. That doesn't mean protecting every lie."
I picked up the brass key.
Then I faced Giulia.
"Take Mia home. Marco will escort you."
Giulia hesitated.
"Sir, I don't want my daughter involved in any of this."
"Neither do I."
I looked at Mia.
She was studying my face.
"Did I do bad?" she whispered.
The question struck harder than anything Carlo had said.
I crouched before her.
"No, sweetheart. You did nothing wrong."
"Mommy's scared."
I looked up at Giulia.
Her hands trembled.
"I know," I said. "I'm going to make sure you're both safe."
Mia thought about that.
Then she placed her doll on my desk.
"She can help."
I almost smiled.
"What's her name?"
"Rosie."
"Thank you, Mia."
She nodded seriously before taking her mother's hand.
After they left, I took the key upstairs.
The music cabinet stood beside Chiara's dressing table.
It was a narrow walnut box with brass corners.
For eight years, I hadn't opened it.
I inserted the key.
It turned smoothly.
Inside were sheet music, photographs, and a small velvet pouch.
I touched the sheet music first.
Chiara's handwriting covered the margins.
Too slow here.
Dante likes this part.
I remembered sitting beside her as she practiced.
I remembered her leaning against my shoulder.
For a moment, grief nearly brought me to my knees.
Then I opened the velvet pouch.
Inside was a prescription bottle.
The label bore Chiara's name.
Dr. Samuel Price.
But the tablets inside were different colors.
Half were pale blue.
The others were white.
I held the bottle up.
"Carlo."
He stepped closer.
His face drained.
"Those shouldn't be mixed."
"Why?"
"Her medication was always white."
Valentina whispered, "Oh, God."
I turned toward her.
She was staring at the bottle.
"You knew?"
"No."
"Valentina."
"I knew Chiara had been worried about her medicine. I didn't know she'd kept any."
I opened a folded letter beneath the pouch.
It was addressed to me.
My dearest Dante,
If you've found this cabinet, it means someone finally helped you look where I couldn't safely point.
I don't know whether the tablets are dangerous. I only know they changed after I questioned the foundation accounts.
Please don't accuse anyone until you understand why.
And whatever happens, protect Valentina. She's frightened because someone has made her believe protecting me will destroy you.
I read that sentence three times.
Protect Valentina.
My wife had been afraid.
Yet she had asked me to protect the sister I now suspected.
I looked at Valentina.
"Tell me what she meant."
My sister covered her mouth.
For a long moment, she couldn't speak.
Then she sat on the edge of the bed.
"Eight years ago, I was engaged to a man named Richard Hale."
I remembered Richard.
Handsome.
Well-connected.
A financial consultant who'd worked with our foundation.
He'd disappeared from our lives shortly before Chiara died.
"I thought you broke up with him," I said.
"I did. After I discovered he'd been using my access to the foundation accounts."
Carlo looked away.
Valentina continued.
"He told me that if I exposed him, he'd make sure you went to prison for approving the transfers."
"Why didn't you come to me?"
"Because he'd already forged your signature. He had copies of contracts. He said the investigators would never believe me."
"And Chiara?"
"She found out."
I sat down.
Valentina was crying now.
"She told me she'd help. She said we could fix it together."
"What happened?"
Valentina looked at the prescription bottle.
"Richard came to see her."
"When?"
"The afternoon before she died."
My hands tightened.
"What did he do?"
"I don't know."
"That's not good enough."
"I wasn't there!"
Her voice broke.
"I should have been. She asked me to come, but I was terrified. Richard had threatened to hurt Lorenzo if I interfered."
I stared at her.
"Lorenzo?"
Valentina nodded.
"He had discovered the transfers independently. Richard knew he was preparing to confront you."
The room went silent.
Carlo slowly lowered himself into a chair.
I finally understood why Lorenzo might have disappeared.
He hadn't necessarily abandoned me.
He might have been protecting us.
Then I noticed something at the bottom of the cabinet.
A photograph.
Chiara stood outside a small medical clinic.
Beside her was Dr. Samuel Price.
And a third person.
Giulia.
My housekeeper.
Eight years younger, but unmistakable.
I turned the photograph over.
Chiara had written a date.
Six days before her death.
Beneath it was a sentence.
GIULIA SAW WHAT THEY CHANGED.
I stared at the photograph.
Then at the door through which Giulia had taken Mia.
My maid hadn't arrived in this house by accident.
May you like
She had been connected to my wife's death from the beginning.
And she had never told me.
