Chapter 12 - THE MAN WHO VISITED MY MOTHER BEFORE SHE DIED
I stared at my forged signature.
“I never signed that.”
“We know,” the investigator said.
“How?”
“You were working at the hotel at the time the electronic authorization was submitted.”
Nathan’s voice was cold.
“Trace the access.”
“They already did.”
The investigator turned a laptop toward us.
Security footage appeared.
A hospital hallway.
The date was two nights before my mother died.
At 11:38 p.m., an older man entered wearing a visitor badge.
Silver hair.
Expensive coat.
Vincent Drake.
My fingers went numb.
Nathan watched the footage without blinking.
Vincent entered my mother’s room.
He remained inside for eleven minutes.
When he came out, he looked directly at the security camera.
As though he wanted to be seen.
“What did he say to her?” I whispered.
Nobody knew.
Then a nurse came forward.
She had been afraid to speak earlier.
Now, with investigators protecting her identity, she described hearing an argument.
Hannah had told Vincent:
You can kill me, but Bella has what Evelyn left behind.
Vincent answered:
Then Bella will bring it to Nathan for me.
I stood.
“He used me.”
Nathan looked at me.
“From the beginning.”
The hospital bill.
My desperation.
The penthouse.
Had Vincent somehow known where I worked?
Had the $49,200 been part of a plan?
Investigators checked.
The hospital charges themselves were legitimate.
But someone had anonymously contacted the hotel three weeks earlier and recommended Bella Carter for “high-value guest service shifts.”
Vincent.
He had maneuvered me toward Nathan.
“Why?” I asked.
Luca answered.
“Because Vincent believed Hannah had given you evidence.”
Nathan’s face hardened.
“He wanted Bella close to me so he could watch both of us.”
A strange chill passed through me.
The night I thought desperation had pushed me into Nathan’s penthouse had not been entirely random.
Someone had placed me on that floor.
Someone had expected grief and debt to do the rest.
Nathan looked furious.
But not at me.
At himself.
“I played exactly into his hands.”
“No,” I said.
He looked at me.
“He expected you to use me and discard me.”
Nathan went still.
“You didn’t.”
That mattered.
Maybe more than anything.
Later that night, police went to Vincent’s home.
It was empty.
His private aircraft was still in Chicago.
His passport had not been used.
But Vincent was gone.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Vincent’s voice came through.
“Bella.”
My blood froze.
“Where are you?”
He laughed.
“Ask Nathan where his mother is buried.”
Nathan looked at me.
I put the call on speaker.
Vincent continued.
“Then ask him why the coffin was empty.”
The line went dead.
May you like
Nathan stared at the phone.
His mother’s grave had been empty for twenty-four years.
