Chapter 7 - THE SILVER WATCH
Vincent removed the watch slowly.
Maggie had seen him wear it every day since they met.
Silver case.
Black face.
Simple.
Expensive.
But not new.
“My father gave me this when I turned twenty-one.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Open the back.”
“There’s nothing inside except the movement.”
“Not that back.”
Vincent frowned.
Evelyn touched the clasp.
“Patrick liked things with two purposes.”
Maggie took the watch.
She ran her thumbnail along the inner clasp.
A thin plate shifted.
Underneath was a tightly folded strip of translucent paper.
Microfilm.
Vincent stared at it.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
Evelyn looked pleased.
“Patrick was dramatic when cornered.”
Maggie smiled despite everything.
“That sounds like him.”
A technician at St. Agnes still had an old microfilm reader in the administrative archive.
Twenty minutes later, the image appeared on the screen.
Safety reports.
Inspection photographs.
Insurance correspondence.
Copies of payments to Edwin Bellamy.
Everything.
But the final document mattered most.
A typed memorandum prepared by Patrick.
He had documented the entire sequence.
Failed inspection.
Carlo’s delay.
The falsified approval.
The fire.
Dominic’s decision to compensate families.
Patrick’s plan to disclose everything.
At the bottom was a handwritten note.
If anything happens to me before I deliver these materials, Dominic Moretti possesses the originals.
Maggie looked at Vincent.
“Your father had them.”
“Yes.”
“Which means he could have cleared mine.”
Vincent did not defend him.
Evelyn spoke from behind them.
“Dominic intended to.”
Maggie turned.
“When?”
“Every year.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
Evelyn’s voice was gentle.
“It’s a condemnation.”
Vincent looked at the screen.
“My father was afraid.”
“Yes.”
“Of Carlo?”
“Of losing everything.”
Maggie’s eyes filled with anger.
“My father already had.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Yes.”
Vincent leaned against the desk.
All his life, Dominic Moretti had been remembered as disciplined, generous, powerful.
Now his son was discovering the truth.
Dominic had not caused Patrick’s death.
But he had allowed Patrick’s reputation to die afterward.
Sometimes cowardice did not look like running.
Sometimes it looked like signing checks and telling yourself you would speak tomorrow.
Maggie touched Vincent’s arm.
He looked at her.
Not as Vincent Moretti.
Not as the man people feared.
As a son grieving someone differently.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
His laugh was quiet and broken.
“You’re apologizing now?”
“Don’t get used to it.”
That helped.
Barely.
They copied the files.
As they prepared to leave, Evelyn called Maggie back.
“There’s something else.”
Maggie sat beside her.
Evelyn handed her the rosary.
Dominic’s rosary.
“Patrick gave this back to Dominic before he died.”
Maggie frowned.
“But it was in the locker.”
“Dominic put it there later.”
“Why?”
“Because he couldn’t bear to keep it.”
Evelyn looked toward Vincent.
“He visited your mother after Patrick’s funeral. He begged Nora to let him tell the truth.”
Maggie’s breath caught.
“What did she say?”
“No.”
Maggie stared.
“My mother stopped him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Carlo had a wife and two children. One was very sick.”
Vincent’s expression changed.
“Daniel.”
His cousin.
Daniel Moretti had been born with a congenital heart condition.
He underwent multiple surgeries as a child.
Evelyn continued.
“Your mother hated Carlo. But she knew exposure would likely send him to prison. She also knew Dominic’s company might collapse.”
Maggie shook her head.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It did to a widow with an eleven-year-old daughter who had already lost one parent.”
Evelyn’s eyes softened.
“Nora chose safety.”
Maggie sat back.
Her mother had not been weak.
She had been terrified.
The distinction mattered.
But so did the consequence.
“She protected me.”
“Yes.”
“And destroyed my father’s name.”
“Yes.”
Two truths.
Both painful.
Vincent looked at Maggie.
For the first time, neither of them had a villain simple enough to hate.
Outside St. Agnes, evening rain began falling.
Maggie stood beneath the awning.
Vincent joined her.
“Carlo has to answer publicly.”
“Yes.”
“But I don’t want every Moretti employee punished for what he did.”
“No.”
“And my father deserves his name back.”
“He’ll have it.”
She looked at him.
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can promise what I’ll risk.”
“That’s not the same.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“I know.”
Rain hit the pavement between them.
Maggie looked at him for several seconds.
“Why did Claire really leave you?”
The question surprised him.
“She told you.”
“No. She told you that you didn’t make room for her. That’s the symptom.”
Vincent looked toward the street.
“My father died when I was twenty-four.”
“So?”
“So I inherited problems before I inherited authority.”
“And you decided if you controlled every minute, nobody could surprise you.”
He looked at her.
“That is extremely annoying.”
“Florist advice.”
Vincent smiled.
Then it disappeared.
“I did love her.”
“I know.”
“I was bad at it.”
“That’s possible too.”
He nodded.
Maggie touched the old silver watch in his palm.
“You going to keep wearing that?”
“Yes.”
“Even now?”
“Especially now.”
She understood.
Not as a tribute.
As a reminder.
Vincent’s phone buzzed once.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
“What?”
“Board agenda.”
“For what?”
He turned the phone toward her.
MORETTI HOLDINGS — EMERGENCY VOTE.
Acquisition of Sullivan Block.
Demolition authorization upon transfer.
Meeting: 9:00 A.M.
Maggie stared.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Carlo knows.”
Vincent looked toward the rain.
“He knows we found something.”
Maggie’s jaw tightened.
“What happens if the board approves?”
May you like
Vincent answered quietly.
“By noon, your building belongs to my family.”
