Chapter 4 - EVERY CALL HE NEVER ANSWERED
Sophia stared at Vincent.
“You're supposed to be in West Virginia.”
“I was.”
He closed the door behind him.
“Play the recording.”
She tried to smile.
“Vincent, honey, there's been a misunderstanding.”
“Don't call me that.”
Her smile vanished.
He approached the desk but stopped several feet away.
Marco stood behind him, holding a folder.
“Claire tried to contact me,” Vincent said.
Sophia swallowed.
“She was constantly harassing the office.”
“About our daughter?”
“About money.”
Vincent placed a photograph on the desk.
It showed a little girl with curly brown hair, enormous blue eyes, and a stuffed rabbit pressed against her cheek.
Sophia had never seen it.
“That's Lily,” he said.
Sophia looked away.
Vincent continued.
“She was eighteen months old in that photograph. She'd already spent weeks in the hospital.”
“I'm sorry, but—”
“She died six months later.”
Tears filled Sophia's eyes.
Whether they came from fear or guilt, even she could not tell.
“I didn't know she was that sick.”
Vincent pointed toward the laptop.
“Then explain the message I just heard.”
Sophia said nothing.
“Explain why Claire offered to sign anything if I would help our child.”
“She was manipulating you.”
Vincent gave a strange, hollow laugh.
“Manipulating me?”
He opened Marco's folder.
Inside were call records, internal correspondence, and the names of employees who had been instructed to route all communications from Claire through Sophia.
There were medical bills.
Requests for financial assistance.
A letter from a pediatric pulmonologist.
And an email marked URGENT.
Vincent read it.
Then he read it again.
The physician had requested authorization for an out-of-state consultation at a specialized medical center. Lily's condition had been deteriorating, and additional evaluation might have opened treatment options.
No one could say whether the transfer would have saved her.
But it had represented a chance.
A chance Vincent could have helped provide.
He stared at the letter until the words blurred.
Sophia reached for him.
“Vincent—”
“Don't.”
His voice was not loud.
That frightened her more.
“You lied to me.”
“I was protecting you.”
“From a sick child?”
She began crying.
“You were miserable after Claire left. She humiliated you. She tried to ruin your reputation.”
Vincent looked at her as though seeing a stranger.
“Claire didn't humiliate me. I humiliated myself.”
Sophia shook her head.
“You don't mean that.”
“I brought you into my home while my wife was caring for our newborn daughter. I threw them out because I wanted to punish Claire for standing up to me.”
He looked down at the photograph.
“And you helped me pretend they didn't exist.”
Sophia's expression hardened.
“You could have called her yourself.”
The truth landed between them.
Vincent closed his eyes.
“Yes,” he said.
Sophia blinked.
He opened them again.
“That's exactly what I should have done.”
For the first time, Sophia realized there would be no explosive argument she could redirect, no insult she could turn against Claire.
Vincent was not looking for someone to blame instead of himself.
He was looking at the damage he had caused.
“You're leaving this house,” he said.
Sophia straightened.
“You can't throw me out after everything I've done for you.”
“Your employment contract is being terminated. My attorneys will arrange the lawful return of company property and access to your belongings.”
“You'll regret this.”
“Most of what I regret began four years ago.”
Sophia stared at him with hatred.
“You think Claire will take you back?”
Vincent's face changed.
“No.”
The answer shocked her.
“I know she won't.”
He turned to leave.
Sophia called after him.
“You'll never find another woman who understands your world the way I do.”
Vincent stopped.
“That's the problem, Sophia.”
He looked back.
“I built a world where a woman could hide my child's cries for help, and everyone was too afraid or too loyal to question it.”
He walked out.
That evening, Vincent returned to West Virginia.
He did not go to Claire's apartment.
He went to the hospital administration office and requested a meeting with Dr. Eleanor Whitcomb, the medical director.
“I understand you're facing funding problems,” he said.
Dr. Whitcomb studied him carefully.
“We are.”
“I'd like to help.”
She folded her hands.
“Mr. Moretti, financial contributions are welcome. But I need to be clear about something.”
He waited.
“Claire Bennett works here. She is a valued member of our staff. Any support you provide cannot come with expectations involving her.”
Vincent lowered his eyes.
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
He nodded.
“Completely.”
Dr. Whitcomb examined him for a long moment.
“Then I suggest you start by listening to what this hospital actually needs.”
For the next hour, she described leaking roofs, shortages of respiratory equipment, transportation difficulties, and families sleeping in their cars because they could not afford hotels near specialist centers.
Vincent listened.
And for the first time in years, he did not interrupt someone to explain how powerful he was.
At the end, he asked one question.
“How many children have been transferred late because their parents couldn't afford transportation?”
Dr. Whitcomb looked at him.
“Too many.”
Vincent's throat tightened.
He thought of Lily.
Then he said, “Show me how to change that.”
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What he did not know was that Sophia had already made a phone call of her own.
And the man answering it had been waiting years for an opportunity to destroy the Moretti family.
