Chapter 6 - THE COPY UNDER THE FLOORBOARD
The original page still existed.
That fact changed everything.
Dominic immediately asked where it was.
Mom refused to tell him.
“I don’t know you.”
“I’m trying to understand what my father did.”
“So was I.”
“Mary—”
“My daughter comes first.”
For the first time that night, I felt something close to relief.
My mother was scared.
But she was still my mother.
Still stubborn.
Still thinking about me before herself.
I told her I was coming home.
Victoria laughed.
“You seriously think a twenty-seven-year-old piece of paper changes anything?”
I looked at her.
“If it doesn’t, why are you afraid of it?”
Her jaw tightened.
Dominic noticed.
So did everyone else.
Mom agreed to meet me the next morning.
Before hanging up, she gave me one instruction.
“Don’t bring anyone named Vale.”
Her voice softened.
“And Casey?”
“Yes?”
“Do not trust Dominic just because he’s angry with Victoria.”
Dominic heard every word.
He did not object.
That mattered.
The next morning, I took the earliest flight to Ohio.
Dominic came too.
Not because I invited him.
Because the original document involved his family, and because after what we had uncovered, he refused to let me travel without security.
I spent most of the flight ignoring him.
When we reached Mom’s small house outside Columbus, the front door was open.
I ran inside.
“Mom?”
No answer.
The living room had been searched.
Drawers pulled out.
Cushions torn open.
Books scattered across the floor.
I felt my heart hammer against my ribs.
Then I heard a voice behind me.
“Casey.”
I turned.
Mom stood in the kitchen doorway holding a baseball bat.
I nearly collapsed.
“You’re okay.”
“For now.”
Dominic entered slowly.
Mary stared at him for several seconds.
Then she lowered the bat.
“You look like Enzo.”
“I’m told that.”
“That isn’t a compliment.”
He almost smiled.
Mom led us toward her bedroom.
She pulled back the rug.
Beneath it was a loose floorboard.
Inside lay an old plastic document sleeve.
She removed one yellowed page.
German on the left.
English on the right.
The translation was exactly as I had said.
Trustee.
Custodial control.
Beneficiaries.
Dominic stared at it.
Then Mom removed something else.
A letter signed by Enzo Russo.
Dominic began reading.
Halfway through, his face changed.
“What does it say?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“My father knew the translation was forged.”
May you like
Then he read the final sentence aloud.
“And he chose to use it anyway.”
