Chapter 10 - THE LITTLE GIRL WHO REMEMBERED EVERYTHING
Gianna Russo was twelve years old when I met her.
She had dark curls.
Bright green eyes.
And the serious expression of someone who'd learned too early that adults could lie.
Her mother, Elena Russo, had worked as a nurse at the private clinic where my mother received treatment.
Elena resigned shortly after Mom's death.
Then disappeared from New York.
Now she was living in a small town outside Albany.
When investigators contacted her, she agreed to speak.
But she was frightened.
Very frightened.
I understood.
I had spent weeks wondering whether someone was watching my apartment.
Whether every unfamiliar car belonged to Victor Salerno.
Whether my mother's death had been turned into a business decision.
Elena sat across from me.
Her hands trembled.
"Your mother was a wonderful woman."
Tears filled my eyes.
"Thank you."
She looked down.
"She knew something was wrong."
I swallowed.
"With her treatment?"
Elena nodded.
"She repeatedly asked for copies of her medical records."
"Did she get them?"
"Not at first."
My stomach tightened.
Elena continued.
"Dr. Vescari insisted everything was normal."
I looked toward the window.
"And you believed him?"
She shook her head.
"No."
Her eyes filled.
"I found discrepancies in the medication orders."
My heart began pounding.
"What did you do?"
"I reported them."
"And?"
She swallowed.
"My supervisor told me to stop asking questions."
Silence.
Then she said:
"I copied the records."
I leaned forward.
"Where are they?"
Elena looked toward the hallway.
"My daughter knows."
I frowned.
"What?"
Gianna appeared in the doorway.
She carried a small notebook.
Elena smiled sadly.
"She was only nine when your mother died."
Gianna looked toward me.
"I remember her."
My eyes filled.
"Really?"
She nodded.
"She gave me a book."
I swallowed.
"What book?"
"A book about Italian words."
My chest tightened.
My mother had always loved giving children books.
Gianna continued.
"She taught me a phrase."
"What phrase?"
The little girl looked directly at me.
Then spoke in Sicilian.
"Cu sapi aspittari, vidi nasciri li rosi."
Those who know how to wait will see roses bloom.
My eyes filled.
Mom used to say that to me.
Every time life became difficult.
Every time I thought I couldn't continue.
Gianna smiled faintly.
"She said it was important."
I nodded.
"It is."
Then Gianna opened the notebook.
Inside were handwritten dates.
Names.
And a drawing of a medication cart.
She pointed toward one page.
"I saw a man enter the room."
My heart pounded.
"What man?"
Gianna hesitated.
"Dr. Vescari."
I swallowed.
"Did he do anything?"
She nodded.
"He changed something on the machine."
Elena gently interrupted.
"Gianna, remember what we discussed. Tell only what you actually saw."
The girl nodded.
"I saw him touching the pump. Then he told Mom not to come inside."
My hands trembled.
"Did anyone else see?"
Gianna looked down.
Then whispered:
"Yes."
My heart stopped.
"Who?"
She pointed toward the notebook.
A name appeared.
Matteo Moretti.
I stared.
"Matteo?"
Gianna nodded.
"He came to the clinic that night."
The room became silent.
Elena looked toward me.
Her face was pale.
May you like
Then Gianna added the detail that changed everything.
"And when Dr. Vescari told him your mother wouldn't survive, Matteo started yelling that nobody had permission to touch her treatment."
