Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN WHO CALLED MY MOTHER A THIEF
Matteo Russo looked exactly like the kind of man people trusted.
Silver hair.
Warm smile.
Perfect manners.
That frightened me more than if he had walked in carrying a baseball bat.
“Elena Brooks,” he said when Dominic introduced us.
His eyes paused on my face.
Just slightly too long.
“Grace’s daughter.”
My entire body tightened.
“You knew my mother?”
“Everyone knew Grace.”
Something about the way he said it made me dislike him instantly.
Dinner included twelve people.
Dominic’s senior advisers.
Julian.
Matteo.
And, unexpectedly, a stunning blonde woman wearing diamonds at six in the evening.
Her name was Victoria Ashford.
I recognized it.
Old New York money.
Hotel family.
The sort of woman who could probably identify different forks without guessing.
She looked at me.
Then at my cardigan.
Then at Dominic.
“Who is she?”
“Elena.”
“That explained very little.”
Dominic’s voice chilled.
“It explained enough.”
Interesting.
Victoria smiled tightly.
I found out ten minutes later that she was one of the women who had rejected an arranged introduction to Dominic years earlier.
Apparently she had recently changed her mind.
How convenient.
She spent dinner discussing a business alliance between the Ashfords and Vales.
I concentrated on not dropping gravy on myself.
I almost succeeded.
Then Matteo mentioned my mother.
“Grace created problems toward the end.”
I looked up.
“What problems?”
Dominic’s fork stopped.
Matteo sighed.
“She became paranoid.”
“My mother wasn’t paranoid.”
“You were a child.”
“So?”
“She accused loyal people of stealing.”
Dominic spoke quietly.
“Enough, Matteo.”
But I needed to hear it.
“What else?”
Matteo looked almost reluctant.
“She was caught copying private financial documents.”
“That sounds less like paranoia and more like accounting.”
Victoria actually laughed.
Matteo did not.
“She betrayed this family.”
I put down my fork.
“Then why would she save Dominic?”
“Guilt.”
Dominic stood.
Dinner ended immediately.
Apparently when he stood, entire rooms obeyed.
I did not.
In the hallway, I turned on him.
“Why didn’t you tell me people thought she betrayed you?”
“Because I didn’t believe it.”
“That’s not the same thing as telling me.”
“No.”
I hated that he was so good at admitting when I was right.
It removed several excellent arguments.
That night, I searched through my mother’s notebook again.
At 1:12 A.M., I noticed the first letters of several shopping entries formed words.
M.
A.
T.
T.
E.
O.
My heart raced.
Mom had hidden a second message inside the ledger.
MATTEO TOOK MONEY.
I decoded the next line.
Then the next.
Finally:
MATTEO ORDERED THE MONTROSE ATTACK.
I stared at the words.
Then saw one final sentence.
DOMINIC DOESN’T KNOW WHO GAVE MATTEO ACCESS.
I turned the page.
One name had been written there.
May you like
LUCIA VALE.
Dominic’s own mother.
