Chapter 7 - The Painting Behind the Madonna
“My mother said it was someone Dominic still trusts.”
Dominic’s thoughts went immediately to three people.
Leo.
Frankie.
Beatrice.
He hated all three possibilities.
“Did Claire give you a name?”
Lily shook her head.
“She said names were dangerous until Aunt Eleanor saw what was behind the painting.”
Nora looked at Dominic.
“We go back.”
“What about Claire?”
Lily’s expression softened.
“She’s stable. The doctors said she can have visitors this afternoon.”
Nora looked torn.
Twenty-four years of waiting.
Her sister alive less than twenty miles away.
And the mystery that had destroyed their family waiting in Dominic’s house.
Dominic made the decision for her.
“We see Claire first.”
Nora stared.
“You think I’m going to tell you to choose evidence over your sister?”
The corner of her mouth trembled.
“You’ve changed.”
“No.”
He touched her bruised hand.
“I finally know what matters.”
Claire looked smaller than Nora remembered.
Illness had taken weight from her face.
But the moment Nora entered the hospital room, Claire knew her.
No question.
No hesitation.
“Ellie.”
Nora stopped.
Nobody had called her that in twenty-four years.
Claire began crying.
Nora crossed the room.
They held each other like women trying to close decades with their arms.
Dominic waited outside.
So did Beatrice.
Lily sat between them.
“She talked about her every birthday,” Lily said.
Dominic glanced at her.
“Your aunt?”
“She kept a cupcake beside an empty plate.”
He looked through the glass.
Nora and Claire were still holding hands.
“What happened to your mother?”
“Arthur.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“He didn’t hurt her directly.”
Lily looked toward the floor.
“That almost made it worse.”
Claire eventually asked Dominic to enter.
Her voice was weak but clear.
“You look like Angelo.”
Dominic sat across from her.
“I’m told that isn’t always a compliment.”
Claire smiled.
“It is from me.”
Nora looked surprised.
Claire explained what happened after Saint Agnes.
Angelo had taken her believing she was Eleanor.
Arthur’s men intercepted them.
Angelo traded Samuel’s copied ledger for Claire’s life.
But Arthur never released Claire to the family.
Instead he sent her to one of the identity programs Samuel had discovered.
A new name.
A foster placement.
Constant surveillance.
“Why?”
Dominic asked.
“To make sure Samuel stayed quiet.”
“Samuel was alive?”
“For another six years.”
Nora covered her mouth.
Claire squeezed her hand.
“He couldn’t come for us without getting us killed.”
Nora cried.
Not because her father had abandoned her.
Because he had not.
Another wound rewritten.
“Did he know where I was?”
“Eventually.”
“Why didn’t he contact me?”
“He tried once.”
Claire looked at Dominic.
“Angelo stopped him.”
Nora stiffened.
“Why?”
“Because Arthur had a source inside the Gallo family. Every move Angelo made was being reported.”
Dominic leaned forward.
“The name.”
Claire’s eyes moved toward Beatrice through the window.
“Not her.”
Dominic exhaled despite himself.
“Frankie?”
Claire shook her head.
“He paid for what he did, but no.”
“What did he do?”
“He drove the car that night.”
Beatrice heard through the glass and turned away, crying.
Dominic finally understood the guilt between the siblings.
Frankie had unknowingly helped deliver Claire into Arthur’s hands.
“Who betrayed my father?”
Claire looked at him.
“I never learned.”
“Then what is behind the painting?”
“A photograph.”
Nora frowned.
“Of who?”
“Arthur and the traitor exchanging Samuel’s ledger.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“That identifies him.”
“Maybe.”
Claire’s expression became troubled.
“Unless someone removed it.”
“Who else knew?”
“My father. Angelo. Arthur.”
“Samuel and Angelo are dead.”
“Yes.”
“Arthur?”
Claire looked toward the ceiling.
“Still dangerous.”
Dominic stood.
“We need that painting.”
Claire caught Nora’s hand before she followed.
“There’s something else.”
Nora sat again.
Claire touched the old blue-bird bracelet Nora had brought from the estate.
“Arthur didn’t keep that.”
“Vivien said he gave it to her.”
“He lied.”
Claire looked toward Lily.
“I gave it to Vivien.”
Nora stared.
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
Everything shifted again.
“Vivien knew you were alive?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Because I asked her not to.”
Nora’s hurt was immediate.
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t know whether Dominic was part of it.”
Dominic accepted that without protest.
Claire continued.
“Vivien has spent two years quietly undoing her father’s network.”
Nora blinked.
The jealous, violent syndicate daughter had been working against Arthur.
Not cleanly.
Not nobly.
But genuinely.
“She came to warn you,” Claire said.
“She slapped Beatrice.”
“I didn’t say she became a saint.”
Nora gave a wet laugh.
Fair enough.
They returned to the estate before sunset.
Vivien was upstairs now under medical supervision.
She looked surprised when Nora entered.
“Claire told me.”
Vivien closed her eyes.
“Good.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because she didn’t trust Dominic.”
Dominic folded his arms.
“I’m standing here.”
“I noticed.”
Nora sighed.
“Can the two of you postpone acting like divorced royalty for ten minutes?”
Vivien almost smiled.
They entered the east studio.
The Bellini reproduction stood on Nora’s restoration table.
Nora worked carefully.
No knives shoved through canvas.
No dramatic destruction.
She removed the old backing thread by thread.
Behind the secondary canvas was a thin photograph sealed in wax paper.
Dominic’s pulse quickened.
Nora opened it.
Arthur stood beside a car.
Across from him was a younger man receiving a leather ledger.
The photograph had faded.
But the face remained clear.
Dominic stared.
“No.”
Nora looked at him.
“You know him?”
Dominic did.
Very well.
The man had attended his father’s funeral.
Taught Dominic how to shoot.
Sat beside him through two gang wars.
And only that morning had stood behind him at the warehouse.
“Leo.”
Behind them came the sound of a pistol being cocked.
Leo stood in the studio doorway.
His face was gray.
May you like
“Put the photograph down, Boss.”
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