Chapter 4 - Bartholomew the Lion
Dr. Vincent Hale arrived at 2:48 wearing a navy coat and the expression of a man accustomed to being respected.
He had been Sophie’s principal specialist since the diagnosis.
Lorenzo had hired him after three recommendations from people who rarely agreed on anything.
Hale was calm.
Precise.
Expensive.
And, until that afternoon, trusted.
“Mr. Moretti.”
“Doctor.”
“How is Sophie?”
“Better.”
Hale smiled professionally.
“That’s encouraging.”
“She laughed yesterday.”
The smile changed.
Only slightly.
Lorenzo saw it.
“She did?”
“Twice.”
“That’s excellent.”
“And today she spoke.”
Hale set his case down.
“How much?”
“Several sentences.”
Hale removed his glasses.
“That is significant.”
He sounded pleased.
But not surprised enough.
Lorenzo sat behind his desk.
“Would you like a drink?”
“No, thank you.”
“Coffee?”
“I’m fine.”
Lorenzo let the silence stretch.
Hale shifted.
Then Lorenzo said, “My security system says you generated a duplicate credential connected to my personal access code six months ago.”
Hale froze.
There it was.
Fear.
Not confusion.
Fear.
Lorenzo leaned back.
“Interesting reaction.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
Hale’s face tightened.
“There must be some technical error.”
“Then you won’t mind helping me correct it.”
Marco closed the study door behind them.
Hale glanced toward him.
Lorenzo noticed.
“Why did you need access to the medical wing outside scheduled hours?”
“I didn’t.”
“Wrong answer.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
Lorenzo opened a folder.
Printed access logs covered three pages.
“Nine entries.”
Hale stared.
Lorenzo continued.
“Between midnight and four in the morning.”
No response.
“All using credentials tied to your account.”
“I didn’t make those entries.”
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know.”
Lorenzo watched him.
For once, he believed the doctor.
Not completely.
But enough to change the question.
“Who else had access to your credentials?”
Hale hesitated.
“My assistant.”
“Name.”
“Daniel Cross.”
Marco looked up.
“Cross resigned three months ago.”
Hale nodded.
“He moved to New York.”
“Why?”
“I thought another position.”
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened.
“Thought?”
“We did not part on good terms.”
“Why?”
Hale looked uncomfortable.
“He was accessing medical records he had no reason to view.”
“Sophie’s?”
“I caught him reviewing hers twice.”
Lorenzo stood.
The room seemed colder.
“And you failed to tell me?”
“I removed his access.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“I believed the issue had been resolved.”
Lorenzo walked around the desk.
“My daughter stopped speaking while a man you employed was secretly reading her files, and you decided that wasn’t worth mentioning?”
“There was no evidence he harmed her.”
“You don’t decide what evidence concerns me.”
Hale lowered his voice.
“I was trying to protect Sophie from unnecessary disruption.”
Lorenzo stopped inches from him.
“Never use my daughter’s name to defend keeping information from me.”
Hale nodded.
“Understood.”
“Find Daniel Cross.”
Marco was already typing.
Lorenzo looked back toward Hale.
“And you are no longer Sophie’s primary physician.”
Hale’s face fell.
“Mr. Moretti—”
“You’ll transfer every record today.”
“You may be making a mistake.”
“Possibly.”
Lorenzo opened the door.
“But it will be mine.”
That evening, Sophie asked for Bartholomew again.
The lion sat against her pillow.
Mia had returned after dinner because Sophie had specifically requested her.
Elena had protested that it was too late.
Sophie had whispered, “Please.”
Lorenzo had immediately sent a car.
Now the girls sat beneath the warm bedside lamp while Lorenzo observed from the doorway.
“Why is his paw green?” Sophie asked.
Mia looked.
The olive-branch stitching had faded.
“Mommy says lady gave him.”
“What lady?”
“My mommy knows.”
Sophie looked toward Elena.
Elena hesitated.
“Your mother.”
The room went silent.
Sophie stared.
“My mommy?”
Elena nodded.
“A long time ago.”
Sophie touched the stitched branch.
“Before me?”
“Before Mia.”
Sophie looked toward Lorenzo.
“Daddy?”
He entered.
“Yes?”
“Mommy touched him?”
The question cracked through every defense he possessed.
“Yes,” he said.
Sophie hugged the lion.
Lorenzo sat beside her.
“Your mother helped make several of them.”
“Why?”
“She liked helping children.”
Sophie pressed her cheek to Bartholomew.
“Did she make me one?”
Lorenzo opened his mouth.
Then stopped.
He did not know.
Isabella had kept hundreds of boxes in storage.
After she died, Lorenzo had ordered most of her belongings sealed because he could not bear sorting through them.
Elena noticed his expression.
“Maybe she did.”
Sophie looked hopeful.
Lorenzo made a decision.
“I’ll find out.”
“Tonight?”
A faint smile reached him.
“Tomorrow.”
Sophie frowned.
Mia interrupted.
“Tomorrow is too long.”
Lorenzo looked at her.
“So I’m learning.”
After the girls fell asleep—Mia curled on the visitor chair despite Elena’s attempts to keep her awake—Lorenzo went downstairs.
The storage room containing Isabella’s belongings had not been opened in two years.
Marco met him there.
“You sure?”
“No.”
Lorenzo unlocked it anyway.
Boxes filled the room.
Dresses.
Books.
Letters.
Photographs.
A life reduced to carefully labeled cardboard.
They searched for nearly an hour.
At the bottom of a cedar chest, Lorenzo found a small wooden box.
On top was Isabella’s handwriting.
For Sophie, when she needs courage.
His chest tightened.
He opened it.
Inside was a stuffed lion.
Smaller than Mia’s.
White instead of brown.
The same olive branch beneath its paw.
And underneath the lion was an envelope.
Lorenzo recognized the handwriting again.
Lorenzo, if you are reading this, something happened that I hoped never would.
He stopped breathing.
Marco saw his face.
“What?”
Lorenzo did not answer.
He unfolded the letter.
The first lines destroyed whatever remained of the calm evening.
There is something about Sophie’s medical history you do not know. I did not keep it from you because I wanted to lie. I kept it because I was afraid of what your family would do with the truth.
Lorenzo read the sentence twice.
Then a third time.
Suddenly Bartholomew was no longer the most important secret Isabella had left behind.
Because the woman Lorenzo had loved had hidden something about their daughter.
May you like
And she had believed the Moretti family itself made that secret dangerous.
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