Chapter 2 - THE MESSAGE MY DEAD WIFE LEFT BEHIND
For three years, I believed Isabella died because a drunk driver crossed a median.
The police report said so.
The toxicology report agreed.
The driver died too.
Closed case.
Grief does strange things to violent men.
I did not investigate because everyone expected me to.
For once, I wanted tragedy to be ordinary.
I wanted one death in my life that had not been caused by my name.
Now Isabella’s voice was telling me otherwise.
The recording continued.
“I don’t know who I can trust.”
Her voice trembled.
That shook me more than any accusation.
Isabella had never sounded afraid.
Not even when she married into the Moretti family.
“I found irregular withdrawals from the children’s future trust. Small amounts. Never enough to trigger a review.”
Naomi handed me copies.
I recognized Arthur’s authorization code.
My attorney.
My fixer.
My friend.
Isabella continued.
“Arthur says they are administrative fees.”
I looked at Naomi.
She shook her head.
“They weren’t.”
The money flowed through charities tied to Patrick Sloane.
Camille’s father.
The man I was supposed to make my political ally through marriage.
Isabella’s recording continued.
“I asked Roman once whether he trusts Arthur.”
My chest tightened.
I remembered the conversation.
I had been dressing for a meeting.
She sat at my desk.
“Would Arthur ever lie to you?”
I laughed.
“Everyone lies.”
“You still trust him.”
“With business.”
She looked at me strangely.
I kissed her forehead and left.
I never asked why she wanted to know.
The recording crackled.
“If something happens to me, Naomi Wells has copies of what I found.”
I looked at Naomi.
“You knew her before she died.”
“Yes.”
“Why wait eighteen months to come here?”
“Because Isabella told me not to enter your household unless someone tried to replace her.”
My stomach turned.
Camille.
“When the engagement was announced,” Naomi said, “I applied.”
I walked toward the window.
Chicago glittered beneath us.
Beautiful.
Distant.
Meaningless.
“What did Isabella find?”
Naomi hesitated.
“She believed Arthur and Patrick were trying to gain control of the children’s trust.”
“By killing her?”
“I don’t know.”
I turned.
“You said her death wasn’t an accident.”
“Isabella said that.”
“Do you believe her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Naomi showed me the autopsy addendum.
I had never seen it.
A sedative in Isabella’s blood.
Low dose.
Not enough to kill her.
Enough to slow reaction time.
The drunk driver crossed the median.
Isabella may have been physically unable to avoid him.
“Who prescribed it?”
“No one.”
My mouth went dry.
Naomi continued.
“The medication was found in her wine at a charity dinner that night.”
I remembered the dinner.
Patrick Sloane had hosted it.
Arthur had attended.
So had Camille.
My fiancée had known my wife.
I turned toward Naomi.
“Camille was there?”
“Yes.”
Then Naomi gave me a photograph.
Isabella at the gala.
May you like
Camille standing behind her.
Holding two glasses of wine.
