Chapter 8 - THE THREAT NORAH NEVER SAW
Matteo did not tell Norah about the message immediately.
That was his instinct.
Protect her.
Control information.
Decide what she could handle.
Then he stopped himself.
That instinct had already cost him his marriage.
He called her attorney.
Within an hour, Norah called directly.
“What does ‘use the baby’ mean?”
Her voice was steady.
Too steady.
“We don’t know.”
“You almost didn’t tell me.”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Why did you?”
“Because I’m trying to stop deciding what truth you’re allowed to hear.”
Silence.
Then:
“Good.”
One word.
But it felt more valuable than forgiveness.
Matteo explained everything.
Luca.
Victor.
Harper’s shell company.
The plan to keep Matteo in Greece.
Norah listened.
Then said:
“My father’s records mention Victor.”
“What do they say?”
“He handled payouts after my father discovered the theft.”
“To who?”
“One judge. Two customs officials. Someone listed only as A.R.”
Arthur Rossi?
No.
Arthur was security.
Could be another person.
Then Norah said:
“There’s also a note about a hospital.”
Matteo went cold.
“What hospital?”
“The one where I’m supposed to deliver.”
Massachusetts Women’s Center.
Norah’s obstetrician practiced there.
“Why?”
“Dad wrote: Shaw controls intake through Marino.”
Dr. Paul Marino.
Hospital administrator.
Friend of Victor Shaw.
Matteo stood immediately.
“Change hospitals.”
“I already did.”
Relief.
Sharp.
“You did?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Silence.
He almost asked again.
Then stopped.
“Right.”
Norah noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You were about to demand the location.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I remembered I’m not entitled to it.”
Another pause.
“Progress.”
He almost smiled.
Then her voice softened slightly.
“The baby is okay.”
He closed his eyes.
“Thank you.”
“She kicked all night.”
“She?”
Matteo stopped breathing.
Norah realized.
Silence.
They had agreed not to learn the sex.
At least together.
“You know?”
“Yes.”
“A girl?”
“Yes.”
Something broke inside him.
Not pain.
Something wider.
A daughter.
He pictured a tiny version of Norah.
Hazel eyes.
Stubborn mouth.
A child who might grow up hearing her father’s name only through lawyers if he did not change.
“Norah.”
“What?”
“Thank you for telling me.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Still.”
He sat.
Then she said:
“I’m naming her Elena.”
His mother’s name.
Matteo’s throat tightened.
“You remember.”
“Of course.”
His mother had died when Matteo was twelve.
Norah once found him sitting alone on her birthday with an old photograph.
She never mocked him.
Never asked too much.
Just made coffee and stayed.
That was the woman he betrayed.
Then Norah’s tone shifted.
“Matteo, my father’s note says A.R. has access to your home security.”
He looked toward Arthur.
Arthur Rossi.
Initials.
A.R.
Head of security.
The man standing five feet away.
Matteo’s eyes met Arthur’s.
Norah continued:
“Do not assume the initials mean what they look like.”
Too late.
Arthur had seen Matteo’s face.
“What?”
Matteo said quietly:
“Who else has your initials?”
Arthur frowned.
Then his expression changed.
“My brother.”
Adrian Rossi.
Former security contractor.
Missing for six years.
Presumed dead.
Except Thomas Bennett’s records contained payments to A.R. only eighteen months earlier.
May you like
A dead man had apparently been receiving money.
Or Adrian Rossi had never died.
