Chapter 5
Nobody spoke for almost a minute.
Giovanni stared at the black screen.
He felt as though the floor had disappeared beneath him.
“That isn't me.”
Sofia didn't move.
“It is your voice.”
“I know.”
Clarissa stepped away.
Giovanni saw it.
A tiny movement.
But it broke him.
“Clarissa.”
She shook her head.
“I need a second.”
“I would never hurt you.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
She couldn't answer.
Emilio stood beside his sister.
Not against Giovanni.
Not exactly.
But not beside him either.
Marco finally spoke.
“The recording could be manipulated.”
Sofia nodded slowly.
“Possibly.”
Giovanni looked at her.
“Possibly?”
“Voice cloning exists. But Elena's microphone recorded the audio locally. The file metadata looks consistent.”
“So?”
“So if it's fake, somebody did serious work.”
Giovanni slammed his hand against the desk.
“Then find out who!”
Sofia flinched.
He immediately regretted the outburst.
His voice softened.
“Please.”
That word surprised everyone.
Maybe even Giovanni.
Sofia studied him.
“I'll analyze the recording.”
“When?”
“Now.”
Emilio pulled another chair beside her.
“I'll help.”
“You know audio forensics?”
“No.”
“Then you'll watch.”
Giovanni turned toward Marco.
“You and I need to talk.”
Marco nodded.
They went upstairs.
Clarissa remained with Sofia.
The two sisters sat less than two feet apart.
For the first time, they had a quiet moment.
Clarissa didn't know where to look.
At Sofia's hands.
Her hair.
Her profile.
Every similarity felt impossible.
“You knew about me?” Clarissa asked.
Sofia didn't turn.
“Since I was twelve.”
“Mom told you?”
“Yes.”
“She visited you?”
“Every year.”
Clarissa's eyes filled.
“Every year?”
“Sometimes twice.”
“All those business trips.”
Sofia nodded.
Clarissa laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“I used to complain when she traveled.”
Sofia looked at her.
“I used to count the days until she came.”
Clarissa wiped her cheek.
“I don't know whether to hate you or hug you.”
“You can do neither.”
“Why?”
“Because none of this is our fault.”
Clarissa nodded.
Then she asked the question she had been afraid to ask.
“Did she love you?”
Sofia's expression softened.
“Yes.”
Clarissa closed her eyes.
It hurt.
But it also comforted her.
“Good.”
Sofia looked surprised.
Clarissa continued.
“I was scared you'd say no.”
For the first time since entering the funeral home, Sofia's defenses weakened.
“She loved you too.”
“How do you know?”
“She talked about you constantly.”
Clarissa smiled through tears.
“What did she say?”
“That you were stubborn.”
“That sounds like her.”
“That you spend too much money on shoes.”
“That also sounds like her.”
“And that when you were nine, you tried to rescue a raccoon and ended up in the emergency room.”
Clarissa laughed.
A real laugh.
Tiny.
Broken.
But real.
Then she started crying harder.
Sofia turned away from the computer.
Clarissa leaned forward.
Sofia hesitated only a second.
Then the sisters embraced.
Neither saw Emilio standing in the doorway.
He watched them.
His own eyes filled.
Then he quietly stepped away.
Upstairs, Giovanni closed the library door.
Marco sat down.
“You lied to me,” Giovanni said.
“Yes.”
“For fifteen years.”
“Yes.”
“Stop saying yes like that makes it easier.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
Marco laughed bitterly.
“The truth is a giant room with no lights, Gio. Every time I thought I understood something, Elena changed the locks.”
“Start with Sofia.”
Marco nodded.
“When Elena called me fifteen years ago, I helped move Sofia.”
“To San Cordova.”
“Yes.”
“Who was raising her before?”
“A woman named Rosa.”
“The woman Emilio and Clarissa met.”
“Yes.”
“Who is she?”
“She worked at St. Catherine Women's Center when Clarissa and Sofia were born.”
Giovanni stared.
“A nurse?”
“Midwife.”
“Why did she have my child?”
Marco leaned forward.
“Elena told me there were complications during the delivery.”
“I know.”
“No. You know the version they gave you.”
Giovanni said nothing.
Marco continued.
“Elena was unconscious after the C-section.”
“For nine hours.”
“Nearly fourteen.”
Giovanni frowned.
Marco lowered his voice.
“Two babies were delivered.”
“Then why was I told there was one?”
“Elena said a doctor came to her room later and told her Twin B had died.”
Giovanni stopped breathing.
“Sofia.”
“Yes.”
“But she didn't die.”
“No.”
“Why lie?”
“Elena spent years trying to answer that.”
“And?”
“She believed someone ordered the baby removed.”
“Who?”
“She didn't know.”
Giovanni paced.
“That makes no sense. Why would anyone steal one of my daughters?”
“Maybe they weren't trying to steal her.”
Giovanni stopped.
Marco's face darkened.
“Maybe they were trying to hide something.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
“Again.”
“I told you, Elena never gave me everything.”
“Then tell me what she did give you.”
Marco leaned back.
“Rosa contacted Elena when the girls were seven.”
“Why wait seven years?”
“She was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“The doctor who arranged the separation.”
“Name?”
“Dr. Stephen Vale.”
Giovanni recognized it.
His obstetrician.
One of New York's most respected specialists at the time.
Dead now.
Heart attack nine years earlier.
“Vale delivered Clarissa.”
“And Sofia.”
Giovanni sank into a chair.
“What did Rosa say?”
“That Sofia never died. She was taken from the hospital under false paperwork. Rosa had been paid to care for her temporarily.”
“Paid by whom?”
“She never knew. Cash arrived through an attorney.”
“Which attorney?”
“Elena tried to trace him. Fake name. Fake company.”
Giovanni rubbed his face.
“So Rosa raised Sofia?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't Elena tell me when she found out?”
Marco looked at him for a long time.
“Because three days after Elena discovered Sofia was alive, somebody tried to kill the girl.”
The burning car.
Giovanni remembered the photo.
“How?”
“Rosa was supposed to drive Sofia to meet Elena. Someone tampered with the car. Rosa noticed smoke before she picked Sofia up. She got out. The car caught fire.”
Giovanni's jaw clenched.
“And Elena decided I couldn't know.”
“She didn't know who was watching your family.”
“But she trusted you?”
“Barely.”
“Why?”
“Because I wasn't in New York when the girls were born.”
Giovanni looked at him.
That answer cut deeper than Marco intended.
“So everyone who was here became a suspect.”
“Yes.”
“Including me.”
Marco said nothing.
Giovanni turned toward the window.
“I spent fifteen years wondering why my wife changed.”
Marco's expression softened.
“She loved you.”
“Don't.”
“She did.”
“Don't tell me how my wife felt.”
“She was terrified, Gio.”
“So she built another life?”
“She protected your daughter.”
“By letting me think I had two children instead of three?”
“She thought knowledge would put Sofia in danger.”
Giovanni turned.
“And did it?”
Marco didn't answer.
Because Sofia was alive.
Maybe Elena had been right.
The library door opened.
Emilio entered.
“Dad.”
Giovanni looked at him.
“We found something.”
They returned to the security room.
Sofia had isolated the audio.
Waveforms covered three monitors.
Clarissa stood behind her.
“Well?” Giovanni asked.
“The recording is real.”
Giovanni felt sick.
Sofia raised a hand.
“The file is real. That doesn't mean you were consciously speaking.”
“What does that mean?”
She played a section.
Giovanni's recorded voice.
Where is she?
Then she displayed a frequency analysis.
“There is another sound underneath.”
Emilio leaned closer.
“What?”
Sofia increased the volume.
A faint rhythmic click.
Three pulses.
Pause.
Three pulses.
Pause.
Giovanni frowned.
“I hear it.”
Sofia nodded.
“It continues through the entire conversation.”
“What is it?”
“I don't know.”
Marco stepped closer.
Then his face changed.
“Play it again.”
Sofia did.
Three clicks.
Pause.
Three clicks.
Marco whispered, “Metronome.”
Everyone looked at him.
“What?”
“Elena told me something after Giovanni's accident.”
Giovanni stared.
“What?”
“She said you started seeing a specialist.”
“I saw several doctors.”
“Not a regular doctor.”
Marco rubbed his forehead.
“She called him a behavioral neurologist.”
“I don't remember that.”
“I know.”
Giovanni went cold.
“Who was he?”
Marco closed his eyes, searching his memory.
Then he opened them.
“Dr. Adrian Cross.”
Giovanni didn't recognize the name.
Sofia was already typing.
A search result appeared.
Dr. Adrian Cross.
Clinical neuropsychologist.
Specialized in trauma, memory reconstruction, behavioral conditioning.
License suspended twelve years ago.
Reason sealed.
Emilio whispered, “Behavioral conditioning?”
Sofia clicked another page.
No current practice.
No public address.
Then another result.
An old corporate filing.
Cross Cognitive Consulting LLC.
Client list unavailable.
But the registered office caught Giovanni's attention.
Moretti Holdings Tower.
Twenty-third floor.
Fifteen years earlier.
Giovanni stared at Marco.
“My company hired him?”
“I didn't know.”
Sofia kept digging.
“There are payment records in a leaked corporate database.”
“To Cross?”
“Yes.”
“Who authorized them?”
She opened the filing.
The approval line contained two initials.
V.M.
Giovanni's expression hardened.
Clarissa saw it.
“Who is V.M.?”
Nobody answered.
“Dad?”
Giovanni looked toward the ceiling as if the answer were too heavy to speak.
Finally, he said, “Your grandmother.”
Emilio frowned.
“Grandma Victoria?”
“Yes.”
Victoria Moretti.
Giovanni and Marco's mother.
The eighty-one-year-old matriarch of the Moretti family.
She had sat beside Elena's coffin less than two hours earlier.
Crying harder than anyone.
Clarissa shook her head.
“No.”
Marco looked equally shocked.
“Mom hired Cross?”
“Apparently.”
Sofia clicked into another document.
“Not just hired.”
She opened a payment summary.
Moretti Family Trust.
Annual transfers.
Fifteen years.
To Cross Cognitive Consulting.
The most recent payment had been made six weeks ago.
The exact week Elena traveled to San Cordova.
Emilio whispered, “Grandma has been paying him this whole time?”
Sofia nodded.
Giovanni reached for his phone.
“I'll ask her.”
Marco grabbed his wrist.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“If Elena discovered this six weeks ago, then went to San Cordova, then died…”
He didn't finish.
Nobody needed him to.
Giovanni called anyway.
Victoria's phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
She answered.
“Giovanni?”
Her voice sounded weak.
Old.
Heartbroken.
“Mother, where are you?”
A pause.
“In the car. Why?”
“Did you hire Dr. Adrian Cross?”
Silence.
Giovanni closed his eyes.
That silence told him everything.
“Mother.”
Victoria finally spoke.
“Who told you that name?”
Giovanni's grip tightened around the phone.
“Answer me.”
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
“I cannot do this over the telephone.”
“Did you hire him?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
Clarissa covered her mouth.
Giovanni's voice shook with rage.
“What did he do to me?”
Victoria began crying.
“Giovanni, please.”
“What did he do?”
“He saved your life.”
“From what?”
“From yourself.”
Giovanni felt his chest tighten.
“What are you talking about?”
Victoria's next words came in a whisper.
“Fifteen years ago, you found out Sofia existed.”
Giovanni couldn't breathe.
“And when you discovered why she had been taken from the hospital…”
Victoria began sobbing.
“…you tried to kill someone.”
Giovanni gripped the desk.
“Who?”
May you like
His mother whispered:
“Me.”
