Chapter 2 - The Name From Her Husband’s Past
Maya's face made Claraara forget Gabriel Rossy for exactly forty-seven seconds.
“Mommy!”
The six-year-old scrambled from beneath the purple blanket when Claraara entered the apartment carrying the enormous white box.
Her blond-brown curls bounced around her thin face.
She was small for six.
Too small.
Years of asthma attacks, interrupted sleep, and cheap food had left her delicate in a way that made Claraara fiercely protective.
“Is that mine?”
Claraara smiled.
“All yours.”
Maya gasped when the lid opened.
For one beautiful moment, their apartment stopped being what it was.
The peeling wallpaper disappeared.
The stain spreading across the ceiling disappeared.
The radiator that worked only when kicked disappeared.
There was only a little girl staring at chocolate frosting and sugar roses as if her mother had brought home the moon.
“It’s huge!”
“Apparently six is a very serious birthday.”
Maya wrapped both arms around Claraara.
“You're the best mommy.”
That almost destroyed her.
Claraara kissed the top of her head.
“Go get your candle.”
They placed the single candle in the center.
Claraara switched off the lamp.
Maya closed her eyes.
“Make it a good wish,” Claraara whispered.
“I already know.”
“What?”
Maya opened one eye.
“If I tell you, it won't come true.”
“Correct. Birthday law.”
Maya blew.
Darkness.
Then laughter.
Claraara sliced the cake with a butter knife.
Maya ate slowly at first, then with increasing enthusiasm.
After her second bite, she looked suspiciously at her mother.
“You aren't eating.”
“I had some already.”
It was a lie.
Maya knew it.
She pushed her plate between them.
“Share.”
Claraara swallowed.
They ate from the same slice.
For the first time in months, Claraara tasted something made simply to be pleasurable.
Later, Maya fell asleep with chocolate near the corner of her mouth.
Claraara covered her.
Then she went to the closet.
At the bottom sat a dented metal box.
Inside were the pieces of her old life.
Marriage certificate.
Photographs.
Debt notices.
Maya's hospital bracelets.
And the black business card.
Claraara held it beneath the lamp.
GABRIEL ROSSY.
Silver letters.
No phone number.
No address.
Only the name.
Her husband Daniel had denied knowing him.
Then Daniel disappeared forty-eight hours later.
At first, Claraara believed he'd been hurt.
She called hospitals.
Police stations.
Friends.
She barely slept.
Three days later, she discovered their checking account empty.
Then the savings account.
Then the credit cards.
Daniel had taken everything.
Within a month, creditors began calling about loans Claraara had never known existed.
By the time Maya turned three, Claraara understood.
Daniel hadn't disappeared because someone took him.
He had run.
The question was why.
And now, three years later, a stranger named Gabriel Rossy had appeared in a bakery and somehow known Claraara's name.
She didn't sleep.
At 6:14 the next morning, someone knocked.
Claraara froze.
Nobody visited them.
She approached quietly.
“Who is it?”
“Building maintenance.”
“There is no building maintenance.”
Pause.
Then a different voice.
“Fair point.”
Male.
Young.
Claraara didn't open the door.
“What do you want?”
“Mr. Rossy asked me to deliver something.”
Her blood went cold.
“No.”
“Ma'am?”
“Take it back.”
“It's not dangerous.”
“That is exactly what someone delivering something dangerous would say.”
A sigh.
“Can I leave it outside?”
Claraara waited.
“Fine.”
Footsteps retreated.
She waited another five minutes before opening the door.
A paper grocery bag sat outside.
Inside were groceries.
Milk.
Bread.
Eggs.
Chicken.
Fresh fruit.
Children's cereal.
And a small pharmacy bag.
Claraara's stomach dropped.
Inside was the exact brand of asthma medication Maya used.
She grabbed her coat.
Twenty minutes later, she stormed into Russo’s Patisserie.
Gabriel was there.
Same booth.
Same black coffee.
He looked up as Claraara approached.
She dropped the pharmacy bag onto his table.
“You crossed a line.”
Gabriel looked at it.
“Good morning.”
“How do you know what medication my daughter takes?”
“I asked someone.”
“Who?”
He didn't answer.
Claraara leaned closer.
“You know my name. You know where I live. You know about Maya. And three years ago, my husband had your business card.”
That changed him.
Barely.
But she saw it.
His fingers stopped beside his coffee cup.
“Daniel Bennett?”
Claraara's breath caught.
“You knew him.”
Gabriel looked toward the bakery windows.
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
“Don't lie to me.”
“I don't.”
“You're telling me a man everyone is apparently terrified of can't find one missing accountant?”
Gabriel's eyes returned to hers.
“Your husband wasn't an accountant.”
Claraara went still.
“Yes, he was.”
“No.”
“He worked for Halpern Financial.”
“No, Claraara. That's what he told you.”
The bakery suddenly seemed too warm.
“What did he do?”
Gabriel hesitated.
“He moved money.”
“For you?”
“For several people.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means Daniel was good at making money disappear.”
Her stomach turned.
“How good?”
“Twenty-two million dollars good.”
Claraara stared at him.
“No.”
“That's why I knew your name.”
“No.”
“I investigated Daniel after he disappeared.”
“You investigated me.”
“Yes.”
“You watched us?”
“Three years ago. Briefly.”
Her hand flew across the table before she could stop herself.
The slap cracked through the bakery.
Every conversation stopped.
Gabriel didn't react.
Claraara stared at the red mark forming across his cheek.
Then at the other customers.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
“Don't be.”
His voice remained calm.
“You earned that one.”
She sank into the opposite seat.
“My husband stole twenty-two million dollars?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does ‘not exactly’ mean?”
Gabriel leaned back.
“The money belonged to multiple organizations and businesses. Daniel was supposed to transfer it.”
“And he took it.”
“That's what everyone assumed.”
“Everyone?”
Gabriel's expression hardened.
“Until yesterday.”
Claraara felt cold.
“What happened yesterday?”
“You walked into that bakery.”
“I don't understand.”
Gabriel reached inside his coat.
He placed a photograph on the table.
Claraara picked it up.
Daniel.
Her husband.
Alive.
The photograph had been taken outside an airport.
There was a date stamped at the bottom.
Six weeks ago.
Claraara's hands began shaking.
“He's alive.”
“Yes.”
“You knew?”
“I received this yesterday morning.”
“Where?”
“Chicago.”
Her eyes filled.
Three years.
Three years of wondering.
Three years of explaining to Maya why Daddy wasn't coming home.
Three years of debt.
Three years of surviving.
“He abandoned us.”
Gabriel said nothing.
Claraara looked again.
Daniel looked healthy.
Expensive coat.
Watch.
No sign of suffering.
“Why show me this?”
“Because Daniel came back for something.”
“What?”
“I don't know yet.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Gabriel leaned forward.
“Because if I knew, you wouldn't be sitting here.”
Claraara stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“It means Daniel didn't steal twenty-two million dollars for himself.”
“Then for who?”
Gabriel's jaw tightened.
“That's the question that got three people killed.”
Claraara pushed the photograph away.
“I don't want any part of this.”
“You already are.”
“No. Daniel left. His problems left with him.”
Gabriel looked toward the pharmacy bag.
“Does Maya still have the silver bracelet Daniel gave her?”
Claraara stopped breathing.
“How do you know about that?”
“Answer me.”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“In my apartment.”
Gabriel stood immediately.
“We need to go.”
“Why?”
“Because it isn't jewelry.”
Claraara didn't move.
“What is it?”
Gabriel looked directly into her eyes.
“A key.”
They reached the apartment fifteen minutes later.
The door was open.
Claraara ran.
“Maya!”
The apartment was empty.
Her blanket lay on the floor.
The metal box had been opened.
Clothes were scattered everywhere.
“MAYA!”
Claraara stumbled toward the bedroom.
Then she heard a giggle.
She spun.
Maya emerged from the hallway holding Mrs. Delgado's hand.
“Mommy?”
Claraara collapsed to her knees.
Maya ran into her arms.
“I was helping Mrs. Delgado feed her cat.”
Claraara held her so tightly Maya squeaked.
Gabriel stood in the doorway, scanning the apartment.
Then his gaze landed on the table.
Something had been placed there.
A white envelope.
Gabriel opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Maya asleep.
Taken through the apartment window.
On the back, four words were written.
GIVE DANIEL HIS KEY.
Gabriel's expression changed.
Claraara saw it.
For the first time since meeting him, Gabriel Rossy looked afraid.
Not for himself.
For Maya.
And beneath the photograph was something even worse.
A plane ticket.
One-way.
Issued under Claraara's name.
Destination:
May you like
ROME.
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