Chapter 4 - The Secret Beneath the Diamond
Aunt Susan refused to explain over the phone.
She made us drive to Wisconsin.
Us.
I hadn’t invited Dante.
He simply appeared in the hotel lobby wearing a black coat and an expression suggesting the matter had already been decided.
“I can go alone.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because you shouldn’t have to.”
That silenced me.
Three hours later, we reached Susan’s farmhouse outside Madison.
She looked older than I remembered.
Smaller too.
The moment she saw me, she cried.
“I’m sorry.”
I hugged her.
I didn’t know what else to do.
Dante waited outside until Susan noticed him through the window.
Her face drained.
“Is that—”
“Dante Caruso.”
She sat down.
“Oh, Rachel.”
“What happened?”
Susan clasped her hands.
“Your mother was a nurse at St. Vincent’s.”
That was new.
“She told me she worked in administration.”
“Later she did.”
Susan looked at Dante.
“Your father came to the hospital that night.”
Dante’s posture stiffened.
“Vittorio?”
“Yes.”
Susan continued.
“There had been threats against his family. Rachel never knew exactly why. She only knew security men were everywhere.”
“And the babies?” I asked.
Susan swallowed.
“There was confusion during an emergency evacuation. A fire alarm. Two infants were moved.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“When everything settled, Rachel realized identification bracelets had been switched.”
Dante leaned forward.
“Between whom?”
“Emma and another baby.”
Not his sister.
I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“Then who?”
Susan shook her head.
“Rachel never told me.”
“Why not?”
“Because someone threatened her.”
Dante’s expression hardened.
“Who?”
“Your father.”
Silence.
I looked at Dante.
He didn’t defend Vittorio.
Susan continued.
“Rachel took you home. A week later, Vittorio visited.”
“Why?”
“She never told me everything. Only that he gave her something and said someday someone would come looking for it.”
“The ring,” I whispered.
Susan nodded.
Dante stood.
“My father gave Rachel the ring?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Suddenly Marcus’s obsession made sense.
Years later, somehow, he had learned Rachel possessed something connected to Vittorio Caruso.
Then he met me.
Married me.
And eventually found the ring.
“How did Marcus get it?”
Susan looked confused.
“Who?”
“My ex-husband.”
I explained.
Her face fell.
“Oh, Emma.”
I hated that expression.
Pity.
“I need to know if he married me for it.”
Susan reached across the table.
“I can’t answer that.”
Dante could.
We found Marcus that evening.
Or rather, Marcus found us.
He was waiting beside Dante’s car outside Susan’s farmhouse.
He looked terrible.
Unshaven.
Exhausted.
Terrified.
Matteo moved instantly.
Dante raised one hand.
“Wait.”
Marcus looked at me.
“Emma.”
I stepped forward.
“Did you marry me for the ring?”
No greeting.
No screaming.
Just the question.
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Not at first.”
Some answers hurt because they’re cruel.
Others hurt because they contain just enough mercy to remind you what could have been.
“What does that mean?”
“I met you by accident.”
“Then when did you learn about it?”
“Six months after we started dating.”
“And you stayed because of the ring?”
“At first, no.”
“Marcus.”
“I loved you.”
“Don’t.”
“I did.”
“You humiliated me for years.”
“I know.”
“You made me think everything wrong in our marriage was my fault.”
“I know.”
“You cheated.”
His silence answered.
“And all this time you were looking for something my mother had?”
“Yes.”
I looked away.
Dante remained silent beside me.
Marcus reached into his coat.
Matteo tensed.
Marcus slowly produced a small velvet box.
My engagement ring.
My old engagement ring.
He held it toward me.
“I never sold it.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“Because despite everything, it was yours.”
I didn’t take it.
“What’s inside?”
“Nothing anymore.”
Dante stepped closer.
“What did you remove?”
“A micro-key.”
“To Vittorio’s records?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
Marcus laughed bitterly.
“That’s the problem.”
He looked toward the dark road.
“I don’t have it.”
“Who does?”
“Adrian Vale.”
Dante’s face changed.
For the first time, I recognized a name.
Vale Industries.
Shipping.
Construction.
Politics.
One of Caruso Holdings’ biggest competitors.
“What does he want?”
Marcus looked at me.
“Something Vittorio hid.”
“Money?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Proof.”
“Of what?”
Marcus stared at Dante.
“That Dante’s father didn’t die naturally.”
Dante went motionless.
I remembered what he had said.
His father died two years ago.
No details.
“Marcus.”
Dante’s voice became frighteningly quiet.
“My father had a heart attack.”
“No.”
Marcus shook his head.
“That’s what they told you.”
Dante stepped forward.
“Careful.”
“Vittorio discovered someone inside the organization was selling information to Vale. He created a backup archive. Then he died before he could expose them.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then you’re useless.”
“I know where the archive is.”
Everyone froze.
“Where?” Dante asked.
Marcus looked at me.
“Emma knows.”
“I absolutely do not.”
“Yes, you do.”
He handed me the ring box.
“Your mother left you a music box.”
My stomach dropped.
There was one.
A small walnut music box with a broken ballerina.
I had kept it after Mom died.
It sat inside a storage unit in Chicago.
“What about it?”
“Look underneath.”
We drove back that night.
At 1:20 a.m., I opened the storage unit.
The music box sat exactly where I remembered.
Dante stood beside me.
I turned it over.
Nothing.
Then Marcus pressed one corner.
A hidden panel released.
Inside was a folded piece of paper.
And a photograph.
I picked up the photograph first.
My mother.
Vittorio Caruso.
And another man.
Dante stared.
“That’s Adrian Vale.”
My mother stood between two of Chicago’s most powerful men.
On the back, Rachel had written:
If Emma ever finds this, tell her the truth about her father.
I looked at Dante.
“What truth?”
Marcus had gone pale.
“Emma…”
I turned toward him.
He was staring at the photograph.
Not at Vittorio.
Not at Vale.
At my mother.
“You knew?”
Marcus whispered.
“Knew what?”
He looked at Dante.
Then back at me.
“Rachel Bennett didn’t keep that ring because she worked for Vittorio.”
My chest tightened.
“Then why?”
Marcus pointed to Adrian Vale.
“Because she was hiding from the man she loved.”
I stared at the photograph.
And understood before anyone said it.
Adrian Vale wasn’t hunting me because I had Vittorio Caruso’s secret.
He was hunting me because—
May you like
I was his daughter.
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