Chapter 5 - DR. WARREN CONFESSED WHAT REBECCA HAD BEEN DOING FOR MONTHS
Caleb Warren did not enter my house.
Police met him at the gate.
That frustrated every violent instinct I had.
It was also the right decision.
He was taken into custody after violating his monitoring order.
By dawn, he asked for a cooperation agreement.
Santos called me at six.
“Get coffee.”
“What did he say?”
“Coffee first.”
“Maria.”
She sighed.
“Rebecca planned it.”
My entire body went still.
“How much?”
“According to Warren, the insurance.”
“The medication.”
“The manipulation.”
“Most of it.”
“And him?”
“He participated.”
I closed my eyes.
“Why?”
“Money.”
Of course.
“Rebecca promised him two million from the insurance payout.”
I looked toward the hallway.
Children sleeping upstairs.
My brother buried in the ground.
Two million dollars.
Santos continued.
“Warren says it started differently.”
“How?”
“He and Rebecca were having an affair.”
There it was.
Ugly.
Ordinary.
Predictable.
“How long?”
“About a year.”
“Before Ethan died?”
“Yes.”
“Ethan knew?”
“Suspected near the end.”
I gripped the phone.
“Continue.”
“Rebecca told Warren Ethan controlled all major assets.”
“She wanted out.”
“Divorce would leave her with less than she expected because much of Ethan’s business interest was separate property.”
“So she killed him.”
Santos remained careful.
“Warren says Rebecca proposed creating a medical history.”
“Palpitations.”
“Arrhythmia.”
“Then medication.”
“Digoxin?”
“Yes.”
“At first, small doses.”
“To make symptoms believable.”
My stomach turned.
“Warren claims he never intended murder initially.”
I laughed coldly.
“Convenient.”
“I agree.”
Santos continued.
“He says Rebecca escalated.”
“She increased the insurance.”
“She pressured him to certify Ethan’s health.”
“Then she asked what amount of medication could trigger fatal rhythm problems.”
I stared.
“And he told her.”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“He claims the final dose was hers.”
“Not his.”
“Does that matter?”
“For degree of liability.”
“Not to Ethan.”
“No.”
Silence.
“What about the children?”
Santos’s voice changed.
“He says he knew Rebecca was locking Leo downstairs.”
My hands tightened.
“He knew.”
“Yes.”
“Did he ever help?”
“He says he told her to stop.”
I laughed.
“Heroic.”
“He never reported it.”
“Never treated Leo.”
“Never intervened.”
“I understand.”
“No.”
I said.
“You know the sentence.”
“You don’t understand it.”
Santos went quiet.
Fair.
I exhaled.
“Sorry.”
“You don’t owe me that.”
“I’m trying to become less terrible.”
“That is a large project.”
I almost smiled.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
“Warren says Rebecca became increasingly afraid after Ethan died.”
“Afraid of what?”
“His missing files.”
“She knew he had been documenting concerns.”
“She searched the house.”
“The basement hidden room?”
“She created it after his death.”
“For the kids?”
“Partly.”
My stomach turned.
“Why hidden?”
“She was storing Ethan’s papers there too.”
“Then why lock the children inside?”
“Control.”
That word again.
“She needed them silent.”
“Leo had heard arguments.”
“Maya had seen Warren in the house.”
“She told them if they spoke, they’d lose each other.”
I sat down.
“Jesus.”
Santos continued.
“She also told Leo you were dangerous.”
I almost laughed.
“That part wasn’t completely invented.”
“Thomas.”
“I know.”
“She said if he came to you, you would take Maya and send him away.”
My throat tightened.
That explained the boy’s terror.
He had still come.
Broken leg.
Crawling.
He had gambled everything on me.
“What made him finally run?”
Santos asked.
“I don’t know.”
I did.
Maya.
Always Maya.
Rebecca left them locked too long.
Leo decided the risk of staying had become worse than the risk of me.
At nine, toxicology from Ethan’s exhumation began.
Results would take time.
But preliminary examination found no obvious natural explanation contradicting poisoning.
Meanwhile, prosecutors filed additional charges against Warren.
Rebecca’s legal situation worsened.
Still, she maintained innocence.
Her lawyer issued a statement calling Warren “a desperate man inventing stories to reduce his own criminal exposure.”
Possible.
That was why evidence mattered.
Then police found the insurance money.
Not all spent.
Eight million payout.
Rebecca had transferred two million into a Cayman-linked investment vehicle connected to Warren.
One million moved through another company.
Four remained in domestic accounts.
The trail supported his story.
Not perfectly.
Enough to change the case.
Rebecca was arrested on charges related to child abuse, unlawful restraint, financial fraud, and later conspiracy while the homicide investigation continued.
The news exploded.
Not because of me.
Because children crawling to a mafia boss’s gate made excellent headlines.
I hated every one.
MAFIA UNCLE RESCUES ABUSED CHILDREN.
No.
Leo rescued Maya.
I opened a gate.
MORETTI BOSS SEEKS CUSTODY.
No.
I wanted family court to protect them.
CRIME KINGPIN VS. BLACK WIDOW.
I nearly broke a television.
Dana stopped by that afternoon.
“The headlines do not help.”
“I noticed.”
“Your attorney should handle media.”
“He is.”
“And no public statements about Rebecca.”
“Fine.”
“You sound unhappy.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
She had learned to enjoy annoying me.
The children moved permanently into separate bedrooms that week.
Their choices.
Leo wanted green walls.
Maya wanted yellow.
Then Maya changed her mind to purple halfway through painting.
We repainted.
My staff thought I had lost my mind.
I had.
Happily.
At bedtime, Maya asked:
“Door lock?”
I froze.
Her room door had an ordinary privacy lock from inside.
“No lock outside.”
I showed her.
“You can open it anytime.”
She tested it.
Opened.
Closed.
Opened again.
“Always?”
“Always.”
Leo’s room needed something different.
He asked for a bell.
“What kind?”
“If Maya needs me.”
My chest tightened.
“You don’t have to watch her at night.”
“I know.”
“But bell.”
We compromised.
Baby monitor between rooms.
He could hear her if she cried.
I could too.
The first night, I heard Leo whisper through the monitor:
“Maya?”
“What?”
“We stay.”
Maya answered:
“Uncle Thomas house.”
“Yes.”
Then silence.
I sat in the hallway outside their rooms for an hour.
Not because they needed me.
Because I needed to hear them sleep somewhere no one could lock them in.
Two days later, Rebecca requested a supervised video call.
Family court approved only if therapists believed it appropriate.
Leo said no.
Maya did not understand.
“Mommy?”
Leo shook his head violently.
“No.”
Dana crouched.
“You don’t have to decide for Maya.”
He became angry.
“I protect her.”
I watched.
There it was.
The burden.
I stepped closer.
“Leo.”
He looked at me.
“Remember what I told you?”
His eyes filled.
“Not my job.”
“Right.”
“Adults decide safety.”
“You get to be six.”
He whispered:
“I don’t know how.”
That nearly ended me.
I crouched.
“Neither do I.”
He looked confused.
“I’ve never been uncle to two kids full-time.”
“You’ve never been six without protecting Maya.”
“We learn.”
He thought.
“Together?”
“Yes.”
Maya climbed onto my back.
“Together.”
Leo smiled for the first time that day.
Then my phone rang.
Santos.
Toxicology.
I stepped into the hall.
“What?”
“Digoxin levels.”
I stopped breathing.
“Fatal range.”
My hand tightened.
“Natural?”
“No.”
“Not with the prescription history we have.”
“And the dose Warren described matches.”
Silence.
Then Santos said the words that changed Ethan’s death certificate forever.
“We are now investigating this as homicide.”
I closed my eyes.
My brother had not died from a sudden heart attack.
May you like
Someone had taken his life.
And the woman who promised at his funeral to protect his children had been standing beside his coffin already knowing why he was there.
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