Chapter 8 - The Promise I Made My Son
Noah was only three years old.
He didn't understand what death meant.
He barely understood why Claire existed in photographs but never came through the door.
Yet someone had used that confusion to frighten him.
I held him close.
"Listen to me, buddy."
His eyes filled.
"Is Mommy Grace leaving?"
"Grace gets to decide where she works and lives. But nobody is going to make her disappear because you love her."
He studied me.
"Promise?"
I kissed his forehead.
"I promise I'll protect you and make sure adults tell you the truth."
He wrapped his little arms around my neck.
For a long moment, I held him.
Then I tucked him into bed and waited until he fell asleep.
When I entered the hallway, Grace was standing near the nursery.
She looked worried.
"Is he okay?"
I shook my head.
"No."
Her expression changed.
"What happened?"
I told her.
By the time I finished, her eyes were filled with tears.
"She said that to him?"
I nodded.
Grace covered her mouth.
"I never wanted him caught in the middle."
"I know."
She looked away.
"Dante, maybe I should leave."
The words struck me harder than I expected.
"No."
She looked up.
I immediately corrected myself.
"I mean, I don't want you to leave. But it's your decision."
Grace studied me.
For years, I'd been accustomed to people following my orders.
Now I was learning how difficult it could be to ask someone to stay without making it sound like a command.
"I love Noah," she whispered.
"I know."
"He's my whole world."
My throat tightened.
"He's mine too."
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Grace looked toward the nursery.
"I can't keep working here if Margaret is allowed to frighten him."
I nodded.
"She won't have unsupervised access to Noah while we address what happened."
Grace exhaled shakily.
"And Vanessa?"
"Our engagement is over."
She looked surprised.
"Really?"
"Yes."
I hesitated.
"Grace, I owe you an apology."
She looked at me.
"For what?"
"For allowing other people to decide who belonged in my son's life."
Her expression softened.
"You were grieving."
"That doesn't excuse everything."
She didn't argue.
And I was grateful.
The next morning, I asked Margaret to leave the estate temporarily.
She arrived in my office furious.
"You can't throw your own mother out!"
"I'm arranging another place for you to stay. You won't be alone or without support."
"And Noah?"
"You won't see him without appropriate supervision until we understand what you've been saying to him."
Her expression changed.
"Dante, that nanny is manipulating you."
I stared at her.
"Grace didn't tell me what happened."
Margaret frowned.
"Then who did?"
"Noah."
For the first time, my mother looked frightened.
She opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
I stepped closer.
"Did you threaten my son?"
Tears filled her eyes.
"I was trying to protect him."
"From what?"
"From becoming attached to another woman who might leave!"
I stared at her.
Then spoke quietly.
"Claire died. Grace didn't."
Margaret looked away.
"And frightening Noah won't bring Claire back."
My mother began crying.
But I wasn't finished.
"Tell me the truth about the hospital."
She shook her head.
"Dante..."
"Please."
The word surprised us both.
I hadn't begged anyone for anything in years.
Margaret looked at me.
Then whispered:
"I didn't want Claire dead."
My stomach dropped.
She continued.
"But I knew Richard Hart was trying to stop her from exposing something."
I stared.
"What?"
She covered her face.
"The money."
"What money?"
Margaret's voice broke.
May you like
"The millions Richard stole from the hospital foundation."
And Claire had discovered the theft only days before giving birth.
