Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN WHO HELD HIS MOTHER'S HAND
"My mother didn't kill anyone."
The words escaped before I could stop them.
Dante stood motionless, holding the hospital transfer form.
"I didn't say she did."
"You didn't have to."
His expression shifted.
For the first time that night, he looked less like the feared Dante Moretti and more like a man who had just been handed a painful piece of his childhood.
"Elena, I was fourteen when my mother died. My father told me there had been complications after a fire at the hospital. He never mentioned your mother."
"Then perhaps your father didn't tell you everything."
Vanessa stepped forward.
"Careful."
I turned toward her.
"No. I've spent this entire evening being careful. I congratulated you. I apologized for a drop of champagne. I let you threaten my job because I was afraid of losing my mother's treatment."
My voice shook.
"But you don't get to call her a thief."
Vanessa looked startled.
Dante didn't interrupt.
Instead, he folded the hospital form.
"We're going to speak with Miriam."
Vanessa grabbed his arm.
"Tonight?"
"Tonight."
"She's seriously ill."
"Which is why I'm not asking you to come."
He gently removed her hand.
Then he looked at me.
"Would your mother be willing to see us?"
I thought of my mother lying in a hospital bed, trying to make jokes about the food while hiding how frightened she was.
"I'll ask her."
Dante nodded.
"Then we'll go together."
Vanessa watched us leave.
And for one brief moment, I saw something in her expression that wasn't jealousy.
It was fear.
My mother was awake when we arrived at the hospital.
Miriam Carter was fifty-nine, with soft gray streaks in her brown hair and the same stubborn chin I saw in the mirror every morning.
She was waiting for a valve procedure that her doctors considered important but not immediately life-saving.
When she saw Dante standing beside me, she smiled politely.
"Well, Elena. You didn't tell me you were bringing company."
Then she noticed the photograph in Dante's hand.
Her smile vanished.
"Where did you get that?"
"From Vanessa Bennett," he answered.
My mother's fingers tightened around her blanket.
For several seconds, she stared at the photograph.
Then she whispered, "Beatrice kept it."
Dante approached her bedside.
"Mrs. Carter, I'm Lucia Moretti's son."
"I know who you are."
Her voice trembled.
"You look like her when you're worried."
He stopped.
That simple observation seemed to affect him more than any accusation.
"You knew my mother?"
"She was one of the kindest women I ever met."
"Then why did my father tell me she was taken to Bennett Private Medical Center?"
My mother closed her eyes.
I sat beside her.
"Mom, what's happening?"
She reached for my hand.
"Your mother was a nurse at St. Agnes Hospital," she told Dante. "Lucia helped establish a fund for patients who couldn't afford treatment. Beatrice Bennett helped raise the money."
"The Lucia Care Fund," Dante said.
My mother nodded.
"I was one of the nurses who helped identify patients needing assistance. Then some of the money went missing."
"How much?"
"More than two million dollars."
Dante went still.
"Who took it?"
"I never found out."
She glanced at the photograph.
"Lucia was determined to find out. She believed the charity money had been redirected into private business accounts."
"And you helped her?"
"I tried."
My mother looked down.
"Then there was a fire in one of the hospital's old wings. Lucia had been helping patients evacuate. She inhaled too much smoke."
Dante slowly pulled a chair toward the bed.
"Keep going."
"She needed specialist treatment. The safest destination was Riverside General. They had the equipment and an intensive care team waiting."
"But the form says Bennett Private."
My mother's eyes filled with tears.
"Because someone changed the destination after I signed the original transfer request."
My heart pounded.
"Who?"
"I was told the change came from the Moretti family's medical representative."
Dante stared at her.
"My father?"
"I never saw who gave the order."
She looked ashamed.
"I argued. I demanded the ambulance be redirected. By the time we got Lucia to Riverside, she'd lost precious time."
Dante lowered his head.
For a long moment, the only sound was the monitor beside the bed.
"Did my mother say anything?" he asked.
Miriam began crying.
"She asked whether you had eaten dinner."
Dante covered his mouth.
I had never seen him look so helpless.
My mother continued.
"She said you pretended not to be hungry whenever she was sick because you didn't want her worrying about you."
His eyes closed.
Then she reached beneath her pillow and pulled out a small cloth pouch.
Inside was an old silver wristwatch.
Its crystal was cracked.
The hands had stopped at 2:14.
"Lucia gave me this while we were waiting for the second ambulance."
Dante accepted it carefully.
On the back was a tiny engraving.
L.M. — FOR THE TIME WE STILL HAVE.
He ran his thumb over the letters.
"My father gave her this for their tenth anniversary."
Miriam nodded.
"She told me to keep it until it was safe."
"Safe from whom?"
My mother looked toward the hospital door.
Then back at Dante.
"Your father wasn't the only person who wanted those missing funds kept quiet."
She swallowed.
"Beatrice Bennett was trying to protect Lucia."
I glanced at the photograph.
"Protect her from what?"
May you like
My mother's voice became almost inaudible.
"The man Beatrice was afraid of was her own husband. Vanessa's father."
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