Chapter 9 - THE WOMAN WHO KNEW MY MOTHER'S LAST WORDS
Patricia.
The blonde woman from the employment agency.
The woman who had sent me to the Moretti estate three years earlier.
The woman who had touched my necklace and told me my mother would be proud.
I had never seen her again.
Or so I thought.
Dominic carried me into his private office while Victor organized a search for Lily.
“Tell me everything you remember about Patricia,” he said.
I described her office.
The fake plants.
The framed certificates.
The way she'd insisted I keep my necklace visible during the interview.
Dominic listened carefully.
Then he asked, “Did she ever contact you afterward?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
I hesitated.
Every Christmas, I received an anonymous card.
No return address.
No signature.
Just one sentence.
Your mother is still watching over you.
I had always assumed it was from an old family friend.
Dominic looked troubled.
“Do you still have them?”
“Yes. In a shoebox at my apartment.”
He nodded.
“We'll retrieve them.”
A moment later, Victor entered.
“We found Patricia.”
“Where?” Dominic asked.
“Evanston. She's living under the name Patricia Wells.”
Dominic stood.
“Bring her here.”
Victor hesitated.
“There's something else.”
He placed a tablet on the desk.
A security photograph appeared.
Patricia entering a private medical clinic.
Beside her walked a young woman.
Lily.
The photograph was taken that morning.
I leaned forward.
“She isn't kidnapped?”
Victor shook his head.
“We don't know. But she walked into the clinic voluntarily.”
Dominic studied the image.
“Could be coercion.”
I nodded.
“She sounded terrified.”
Dominic turned to Victor.
“Send the address to our attorney and the police contact handling the case. No one goes in shooting.”
Victor left.
I looked at Dominic.
“You're involving the police?”
“Yes.”
“Your father owns half the people in Chicago.”
“Not all of them.”
He sat beside me.
“Emily, there are people I trust outside my world. People who have spent years trying to stop men like my father.”
I studied him.
“Men like you?”
He didn't look away.
“Sometimes.”
His honesty startled me.
“I've done things I'm not proud of,” he continued. “I can't erase them. But I can decide what I do now.”
I looked at his hands.
Large.
Scarred.
The same hands that had caught me when I fell.
“Why are you helping me?”
Dominic was silent for a long moment.
Then he said, “Because three years ago, you walked into this house and treated me like a human being.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“You never flattered me. Never asked for favors. You argued with me about throwing away perfectly good food.”
I almost smiled.
“You were wasting an entire roast.”
“I remember.”
His expression softened.
“And when my dog died, you left flowers beside his photograph. Nobody else noticed I was grieving.”
My throat tightened.
“I liked Bruno.”
“So did I.”
For a moment, the danger outside seemed far away.
Then Victor returned.
His face was pale.
“We reached the clinic.”
Dominic stood.
“And?”
“Patricia is dead.”
I gasped.
Victor continued.
“Lily is missing.”
Dominic clenched his jaw.
“Anything else?”
Victor handed him a sealed envelope.
“Patricia left this for Emily.”
My name was written across the front.
Inside was a letter.
May you like
The first sentence made my blood turn cold.
Emily, if you're reading this, your mother is alive.
