Chapter 8 - THE UNCLE WHO OWNED EVERY SECRET
Salvatore Moretti invited me to dinner.
I refused.
He sent flowers.
I returned them.
He called my attorney.
She told him all communication would go through formal channels.
Finally, he sent a letter.
It contained a single photograph.
Vincent as a little boy, standing beside his father.
On the back, Salvatore had written:
Families survive by keeping secrets.
I stared at those words for a long time.
Then I called Vincent.
We met at Natalie's office.
When he arrived, I placed the photograph on the table.
"Your uncle sent this."
Vincent looked at it.
His expression hardened.
"What does he want?"
"I don't know."
"He's trying to frighten you."
"He's succeeding."
Vincent clenched his jaw.
"I won't let him touch Leo."
"Vincent."
He looked up.
"You don't get to promise things you can't guarantee."
He lowered his eyes.
"You're right."
I took a breath.
"Clara is alive."
He went completely still.
I told him everything.
The false medical records.
The unmarked vehicle.
Sophia's phone call.
The diverted flight.
As I spoke, Vincent's face lost its color.
When I finished, he sat motionless.
Then he whispered, "Salvatore."
I studied him.
"What?"
"My uncle controlled our aviation security."
I felt cold.
"He approved the flight manifest?"
Vincent nodded.
"He arranged the airfield clearance. The ground crews. Everything."
"Why would he do it?"
Vincent looked at me.
"Because I was planning to remove him from the family business."
My breath caught.
"What?"
"Three weeks before the crash, I discovered he was moving money through companies connected to trafficking and illegal weapons shipments."
His voice was low.
"I told him I was shutting everything down."
I stared at him.
"Then what?"
"He begged me to reconsider. Said I was destroying our father's legacy."
"And you?"
"I refused."
I looked at the photograph again.
"Was Sophia involved in his business?"
Vincent's jaw tightened.
"Her father invested with him."
Suddenly, the pieces began connecting.
The arranged marriage.
The financial alliance.
Sophia's loyalty.
Salvatore's resentment.
The diverted flight.
"Maybe Sophia wasn't supposed to die," I whispered.
Vincent looked up.
"What?"
"Clara heard her say she didn't know I would be aboard."
I leaned forward.
"What if Salvatore arranged for Sophia to survive while you died?"
Vincent's expression darkened.
"Then she'd inherit nothing."
"Not if your marriage to me was invalidated."
He froze.
I continued.
"Your estate documents were complicated. Remember? Your father's trusts?"
Vincent stared at me.
My hands trembled.
"If you died without a surviving wife or child, who controlled your family's assets?"
He didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
Salvatore.
The room went silent.
Then Vincent said, "Anna, I need to tell you something."
I waited.
"After the crash, my uncle pressured me to marry Sophia."
My heart tightened.
"He said it was what my father would've wanted."
"And did you?"
"No."
"Why?"
Vincent looked directly at me.
"Because I couldn't stop loving you."
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
Then I remembered the plane.
The heat.
The smoke.
His hand leaving mine.
"Love wasn't enough," I whispered.
He nodded.
"I know."
We sat together in silence.
Then Vincent asked a question that surprised me.
"What do you want me to do?"
Not what he planned.
Not what he demanded.
What I wanted.
I looked at him.
"I want the truth."
"About the crash?"
"About everything."
He nodded.
"Then that's what we'll pursue."
I took a breath.
"And Vincent?"
"Yes?"
"No private revenge."
His jaw tightened.
"Anna—"
"If you hurt people without evidence, Salvatore wins. He gets to make you the monster everyone already believes you are."
Vincent looked away.
For several seconds, I thought he might refuse.
Then he nodded.
"No revenge."
I studied him.
"Promise?"
He looked into my eyes.
And this time, he answered carefully.
"I promise I'll cooperate with the investigation and let the evidence decide what happens."
It wasn't a romantic promise.
May you like
It was better.
It was one he could actually keep.
