Chapter 7 - THE MAN WHO HAD ALWAYS BEEN THERE
Paulie Moretti stared at the clinic receipt as though it were something poisonous.
Vincent stood across the desk.
Nora remained near the doorway, holding the red shoe.
“Explain your signature,” Vincent said.
Paulie did not reach for the paper.
“Where did you get that?”
“From a child's shoe.”
Paulie's expression tightened.
Vincent leaned forward.
“You told me you didn't know where Anna went.”
“I told you what I believed.”
“Your name is on the discharge record.”
Paulie swallowed.
“That wasn't supposed to survive.”
Nora felt cold.
“Why?”
Paulie looked at her.
“Because it could hurt people.”
“It already has,” Nora replied.
Vincent placed both hands on the desk.
“Tell me what happened.”
Paulie sat down slowly.
For several moments, he said nothing.
Then he looked toward the windows.
“Your father was trying to fix a mistake.”
“Which mistake?”
“Thinking Arthur Bell could be controlled.”
Paulie rubbed his forehead.
“Bell didn't just want the children. He wanted leverage over Thomas. He knew about the affair, the financial arrangements, the people Thomas had helped. He threatened to destroy all of it.”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
“And my father was afraid of losing his empire.”
“Yes.”
“What happened to Anna?”
Paulie closed his eyes.
“She was injured during the storm.”
Nora gripped the shoe.
“How badly?”
“Her ankle was broken. She'd been running when one of Bell's men caught her. Thomas got her back, but she needed medical attention.”
Vincent stared.
“And you took her to the clinic?”
“Yes.”
“Why use Beatrice's married name before she was married?”
“Because we needed a new identity on the discharge papers. Bell had people searching for the child under her real name.”
Nora looked down at the receipt.
“So Beatrice took Anna.”
Paulie nodded.
“She did.”
“Where?”
“I don't know where they went afterward.”
Vincent studied his old friend.
“You expect me to believe that?”
Paulie's eyes filled with frustration.
“I drove them to a train station. Beatrice said she'd arranged a place where Bell couldn't find them. I watched them board. That's the last time I saw Anna.”
Nora stepped closer.
“And you never checked?”
“Of course I checked.”
“What did you find?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why didn't you tell Vincent?”
Paulie's voice broke slightly.
“Because by the time he took over, Thomas was dead, Bell was gone, and Camila was already slipping away. I thought reopening everything would destroy what remained of this family.”
Vincent looked at him.
“You made that decision for me.”
Paulie lowered his eyes.
“Yes.”
For nearly a minute, nobody spoke.
Then Vincent straightened.
“You're relieved of household security.”
Paulie looked up.
“Vincent—”
“Effective immediately.”
“I've served this family for thirty years.”
“I know.”
“Your father trusted me.”
“And that's part of the problem.”
Paulie stood.
Vincent's expression softened slightly.
“You protected us from enemies for decades. But you also protected lies that hurt innocent people.”
Paulie looked toward Nora.
She met his eyes.
“I didn't need you to protect me from the truth,” she said.
Paulie nodded slowly.
“No. You didn't.”
He removed the house security key from his pocket and placed it on the desk.
Then he walked out.
Vincent watched him go.
He had expected to feel satisfaction.
Instead, he felt as though another piece of his childhood had disappeared.
That evening, Nora sat with Camila in the garden room.
The elderly woman was quieter than usual.
She had eaten only half her dinner.
Nora adjusted her blanket.
“Would you like some music?”
Camila shook her head.
“Where's Paulie?”
Nora hesitated.
“He's taking some time away.”
Camila looked troubled.
“Thomas always made him do the ugly things.”
Nora sat beside her.
“What ugly things?”
“Things nobody wanted to remember.”
Camila touched the pearl necklace Nora had returned to her.
“Paulie wasn't a bad boy.”
“No?”
“He was frightened of disappointing Thomas.”
Nora thought about the man who had helped raise Vincent and then spent years protecting his father's secrets.
Fear, she was beginning to understand, could make people loyal to the wrong things.
Camila closed her eyes.
“I should have told Vincent.”
Nora gently squeezed her hand.
“Maybe you weren't ready.”
“I wasn't brave.”
“You were trying to protect someone.”
Camila opened her eyes.
“Protecting people isn't the same as telling them lies.”
Nora looked at her.
For one brief moment, Camila Russo sounded exactly like the formidable woman Vincent remembered.
The following morning, Carmine arrived at the estate carrying a cream-colored envelope.
Beatrice had refused to come.
Vincent met him in the library.
Nora was present at Vincent's request.
Carmine placed the envelope on the desk.
“I found the photograph.”
Vincent opened it.
A little girl stood beside Beatrice at a train station.
The child's hair was tied with a yellow ribbon.
One foot wore a red shoe.
The other was wrapped in a white bandage.
Nora looked at the photograph.
“She was alive.”
Carmine nodded.
“Yes.”
“Where did they go?”
Carmine pointed to a small sign visible through the train window.
New Haven Line.
Vincent frowned.
“Connecticut.”
“That's what I thought.”
Nora studied the photograph.
Something about Beatrice's expression bothered her.
The woman was not smiling.
She looked frightened.
But her hand rested protectively on the little girl's shoulder.
“She loved her,” Nora said quietly.
Vincent looked at her.
“Maybe.”
Carmine nodded.
“She still does.”
Nora turned.
“What?”
Carmine lowered his eyes.
“I asked her about Anna last night.”
Vincent became still.
“And?”
“She told me Anna was dead.”
“We know that's not true,” Vincent said.
Carmine looked exhausted.
“I showed her the photograph. Asked why she kept it.”
“What did she say?”
Carmine swallowed.
“She said she deserved to remember the last day her daughter trusted her.”
They met Beatrice in the conservatory at the Gallow residence the next afternoon.
Vincent had insisted Nora accompany him.
Beatrice wore a simple cream blouse and dark trousers.
Without diamonds or an audience, she looked smaller.
Older.
But her expression hardened when she saw Nora.
“The maid.”
Nora held her gaze.
“My name is Nora Hayes.”
Beatrice looked away.
Vincent placed the photograph on the table.
“Where is Anna?”
Beatrice stared at it.
For several moments, she said nothing.
Then she reached out and touched the little girl's face.
“I don't know.”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
“You took her from the clinic.”
“Yes.”
“Where did you leave her?”
Beatrice's voice trembled.
“At a place where I thought she'd be safe.”
“Where?”
Beatrice looked at Nora.
“You don't understand what Arthur Bell was capable of.”
“Then help us understand,” Nora said.
Beatrice's eyes filled.
“He told me if I kept Anna, he'd make sure she suffered. He knew exactly how to frighten me because he'd spent years teaching me what he could do.”
Vincent leaned forward.
“So you gave her away.”
Beatrice flinched.
“Yes.”
The admission seemed to cost her something.
Nora looked at the photograph.
“Was she told you didn't want her?”
Beatrice covered her mouth.
“That was what the people caring for her suggested. They said it would stop her asking questions.”
Nora felt anger burn through her.
“She was a child.”
“I know.”
“You let her believe her own mother didn't want her.”
Beatrice began crying.
“I thought being hated was better than being found.”
Nora looked away.
She did not forgive her.
But for the first time, she understood that Beatrice's cruelty had grown around a wound she had never allowed to heal.
“Where did you take Anna?” Vincent asked.
Beatrice opened a small drawer.
Inside lay a train ticket, yellowed with age.
She placed it on the table.
“New Haven. October eighteenth.”
Vincent studied the ticket.
Then he noticed a handwritten address on the back.
A children's residence.
Closed fifteen years earlier.
Nora looked at Beatrice.
“What happened after you left her?”
Beatrice shook her head.
“I tried to find her when Bell went to prison. But the place had closed, and the records were scattered.”
“Did you ever see her again?” Nora asked.
Beatrice's face crumpled.
“Once.”
Everyone went still.
“When?” Vincent demanded.
Beatrice looked directly at Nora.
“Three weeks ago.”
May you like
Nora's heart seemed to stop.
Beatrice whispered, “She was standing in your ballroom.”
