Chapter 4 - THE PHOTOGRAPH HIS FATHER HID
“Who told my son his mother abandoned him?”
Dominic's voice shook.
Not with anger alone.
With something I had never heard from him before.
Fear.
Oliver looked at the photograph in his father's hand.
“Daddy?”
Dominic immediately softened.
“Yes, buddy?”
“Did Mom leave because she didn't like me?”
The question almost brought me to my knees.
Dominic sat on the sofa.
He pulled Oliver gently beside him.
“No. Your mother loved you more than anything.”
“Then why did Vanessa say that?”
“I don't know why she said it.”
Oliver stared at his shoes.
“Sometimes she says people leave when you're too much trouble.”
Margaret covered her mouth.
I felt sick.
Dominic put both hands around Oliver's little shoulders.
“Listen to me. You are never too much trouble. Not for me. Not for Grandma. Not for anyone who loves you.”
Oliver leaned against him.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Then Dominic asked Marco to take Oliver to the adjoining sitting room with Margaret.
He wanted them nearby, but he didn't want his son listening to the adult conversation.
Oliver refused to let go of the photograph.
Dominic handed it back.
“Keep it safe, buddy.”
Once they left, Dominic looked at me.
“Claire died when Oliver was fourteen months old.”
“I know, sir.”
“She was driving home from her sister's house. The police said another driver ran a red light.”
He paused.
“I wasn't with her.”
There was such quiet regret in those words that I couldn't think of anything to say.
Dominic moved toward the window.
“For years, I told Oliver his mother died in an accident. I thought that was enough until he got older.”
“Maybe he needed more,” I said softly.
He turned.
I immediately regretted speaking.
But Dominic didn't seem offended.
Instead, he looked exhausted.
“Maybe he did.”
Marco returned carrying a thin file.
“Boss, I checked the number behind the photograph.”
Dominic frowned.
“What number?”
Marco pointed to the bottom corner.
A small inventory code had been stamped into the paper.
“It's a reproduction from a document archive.”
“Whose archive?”
“Briarwood House.”
My heart sank.
Why would a private care facility possess photographs of Dominic's late wife?
Marco placed several printed records on the desk.
“Briarwood isn't just a residential care facility. Its parent company manages guardianship evaluations and protected family trusts.”
Dominic examined the pages.
“And?”
“Arthur Caldwell was a founding investor.”
Vanessa's father again.
Dominic closed his eyes.
“When?”
“Twelve years ago.”
The same period when Anthony Romano had been declared incapable of managing his affairs.
I looked toward Margaret's silver watch.
The old man had known something.
And whatever he'd discovered was happening again.
“There's another connection,” Marco continued.
“Briarwood's records administrator is Elaine Porter.”
Oliver's lady with the purple glasses.
“Does she work for Vanessa?”
“Not directly. But her name appears on several trust evaluations involving Caldwell-managed accounts.”
Dominic looked toward the door.
“I want her questioned.”
“Your attorney is arranging a formal interview.”
Marco hesitated.
“One more thing. The emergency order expires tomorrow unless it's reviewed by a judge. Until then, we need to deal with it properly.”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
“Fine. We do this legally.”
I was relieved to hear him say it.
The men who worked for Dominic often looked as though they expected orders that would never appear in writing.
But tonight, he seemed determined not to give Vanessa another excuse.
I glanced at the clock.
Almost midnight.
My phone vibrated inside my apron.
A message from Daniel's rehabilitation center.
I opened it.
PLEASE CONTACT BILLING REGARDING YOUR BROTHER'S TREATMENT AUTHORIZATION.
My stomach dropped.
I had paid the previous month's balance.
At least, I thought I had.
Dominic noticed.
“Hannah?”
“It's nothing.”
He held out his hand.
“May I see?”
I showed him.
He read the message.
Then he looked at me.
“Who pays the center?”
“I do. But Vanessa arranged some additional assistance.”
“Through the Romano foundation?”
“That's what she told me.”
Dominic turned to Marco.
“Check every payment made through the foundation to Daniel Brooks's rehabilitation center.”
Marco left.
I felt the blood draining from my face.
“Sir, I never asked her to—”
“I know.”
“But if she did something wrong, they might stop Daniel's treatment.”
Dominic's expression softened.
“That won't happen because you told the truth.”
For the first time that evening, I believed him.
Then Marco returned.
And the look on his face destroyed that relief.
“Boss, the foundation never paid the rehabilitation center.”
I stared.
“What?”
“The payments came from a private Caldwell account.”
Dominic looked toward the desk.
“Why would Vanessa personally pay Hannah's brother's bills?”
Marco placed a bank statement in front of him.
“Because she was using the payments to secure something.”
“Secure what?”
Marco pointed at a transaction reference.
The payments were labeled:
BROOKS — WITNESS RETAINER.
Then he placed a second document beside it.
It was a sworn statement.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
And above it were words I had never spoken.
I PERSONALLY OBSERVED DOMINIC ROMANO THREATEN HIS MOTHER AND MINOR SON.
May you like
The statement had been submitted to the court that afternoon.
In my name.
