Chapter 4 - THE MOTHER WHO LIVED THREE MORE DAYS
Sofia survived the crash.
Three days.
That was the truth Victor had hidden.
Dominic demanded proof.
Victor produced hospital records.
Different name.
Different county.
Sofia had been admitted unconscious after the vehicle went down an embankment.
No identification.
She woke for less than an hour on the second day.
Then died from internal injuries.
Dominic looked sick.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Victor smiled.
“Because I found her first.”
The room changed.
I stayed hidden upstairs.
I knew I should not listen.
I listened anyway.
Dominic’s voice dropped.
“What did she say?”
Victor poured himself a drink.
“She asked about Lily.”
My chest tightened.
“What else?”
“She asked me to keep the family away.”
Dominic went still.
“Did she name me?”
Victor hesitated.
That was answer enough.
“She asked for me.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t call.”
Victor shrugged.
“She was delirious.”
Dominic moved.
One of his security men stepped between them.
Not to protect Victor.
To stop Dominic from making a mistake.
I remembered what Dominic told me about lying.
Helping does not always make it right.
Dominic stopped.
Good.
Victor straightened his jacket.
“She also said something about Maria.”
“What?”
“That your mother knew why the crash happened.”
Dominic’s anger cooled into fear.
Victor continued:
“Sofia’s brakes failed.”
My hands went cold.
Not snowstorm.
Not accident.
Someone damaged her car.
Dominic asked:
“Who?”
Victor smiled.
“That’s the question worth sixty-two million dollars.”
Dominic’s voice became lethal.
“Get out.”
Victor laughed.
“You can’t keep Lily from me forever.”
“I don’t need forever.”
“What do you need?”
“Long enough for a court to make sure you never control her.”
Victor’s smile vanished.
He left.
Dominic stood alone.
I rolled down the hallway.
One board squeaked.
He turned.
Our eyes met.
“How much did you hear?”
“Most.”
He closed his eyes.
“Sorry.”
“Did someone hurt Mommy?”
He crouched in front of me.
“I think so.”
“Will you hurt them?”
That question stopped him.
A very long time.
Finally:
“No.”
“Even if they’re bad?”
“I’ll make sure they answer for it.”
“That’s different?”
“Yes.”
I thought.
“Okay.”
He looked surprised.
Maybe nobody had ever trusted him to choose the nonviolent answer before.
Then I asked:
“Did Mommy want you?”
His eyes filled.
“Yes.”
That mattered.
He picked up the hospital record.
There was a nurse’s note attached.
Sofia’s final conscious words:
DOMINIC DOESN’T KNOW. MARIA HAS THE KEY.
Dominic frowned.
“What key?”
Then he remembered.
Maria’s jewelry box.
Stored since her death.
We opened it together.
No key.
Only a small silver charm shaped like a butterfly.
I gasped.
“Mommy liked butterflies?”
Dominic stared at me.
“Sofia loved them.”
I smiled.
“So do I.”
He turned the charm over.
Tiny engraving:
ST. AGNES - 214.
A location.
A number.
May you like
A hidden key disguised as jewelry.
And somewhere at St. Agnes, Maria had left the answer Sofia died protecting.
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