Chapter 3 - THE GIRL CALLED EVA
Sloan reached the car before I did.
I had spent years thinking fear made people hesitate.
Sloan proved me wrong.
Fear made her fast.
She was inside with the door closed before I reached the curb.
“Drive.”
I got behind the wheel.
Rose opened the rear door.
“No.”
I looked at her.
She stared back.
“I know Leon.”
“Get in.”
Apparently I could still give some orders.
Marco called while we crossed Brooklyn.
“Hospital security stopped him outside the pediatric floor.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Armed?”
“Not visibly.”
“Where?”
“NYPD has him.”
“Willa?”
“Safe.”
Sloan exhaled once.
Then covered her face.
I drove faster.
Rose said:
“Do not kill him.”
I looked in the mirror.
“I am not planning to.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Antonio would faint.”
“Who is Antonio?”
Sloan asked.
“Different family disaster.”
I almost laughed.
Wrong story.
Wrong decade.
Still accurate.
At Columbia, Jenna met us in the corridor.
Willa was in her arms.
Safe.
The second Sloan saw her, she broke.
Not dramatically.
Her knees simply stopped working.
I caught her elbow.
Jenna caught the other.
Sloan pressed her face against Willa's blanket and cried silently.
I stood there uselessly.
Then she turned.
“Hold her.”
“What?”
“Vincent.”
I took Willa.
More confident than the first time.
Not much.
Her gray eyes opened.
She looked at me.
Alive.
Safe.
I kissed her forehead.
Something I had not done before.
“Hi.”
She blinked.
Sloan watched.
No smile.
But something softened.
Leon Vescari sat inside an NYPD interview room downstairs.
I was not allowed in.
This offended me.
Probably healthy.
Rose spoke to detectives.
Leon had served Salvatore Moretti for twenty-eight years.
After my father died, I kept him on the foundation security committee because old employees felt loyal.
That word had become dangerous.
“What did he do for Carlo?” I asked Rose.
“Whatever Salvatore once asked him to do.”
“Meaning?”
“Disappear records.”
“People?”
Rose did not answer quickly enough.
“People too.”
Sloan looked away.
“What about Isabella?”
Rose nodded.
“Leon helped arrange the boat.”
My jaw tightened.
“Did he know she survived?”
“Eventually.”
“Did he help Carlo search?”
“Yes.”
“Why use my father's credential?”
“Because Carlo understood something you didn't.”
“What?”
“Dead men attract less scrutiny.”
I stared.
Good strategy.
Terrible family.
NYPD recovered from Leon:
A forged pediatric transfer order.
A Moretti Foundation credential.
Two prefilled syringes containing sedative.
And a court document draft requesting emergency medical guardianship of Willa.
Sloan read the police summary.
Then handed it back.
No tears.
That frightened me.
“He was going to drug her again.”
The detective answered carefully.
“We cannot prove intended use yet.”
“He had syringes.”
“Yes.”
“Near a newborn.”
“Yes.”
Sloan's face became stone.
“Charge him.”
The detective almost smiled.
“We intend to.”
I looked at Sloan.
She looked like me.
I did not like that.
I understood it.
Later, Rose sat with us inside an empty family lounge.
“You need to find Eva before Carlo does.”
“I already told Marco to—”
Sloan looked at me.
I stopped.
“Wrong.”
“Yes.”
I corrected.
“We need to decide how to contact Eva.”
Rose nodded.
“Better.”
“You know where she is.”
“Yes.”
“Is Anna with her?”
“Yes.”
“Take us.”
Rose shook her head.
“Anna will run if she sees Moretti cars.”
“I have one.”
“You have a face.”
Fair.
Sloan asked:
“Does Eva know Vincent is her father?”
Rose looked at me.
“No.”
The answer hurt more than expected.
“What does she know?”
“That Anna is her mother.”
“Good.”
“That her father was dangerous.”
I closed my eyes.
Also fair.
“She believes his name was Victor Vale.”
“What?”
Rose looked apologetic.
“Anna changed yours.”
“Why Victor?”
“She said Vincent was too close.”
Sloan almost laughed despite everything.
“So his first daughter thinks her father is a fictional man with nearly his real name.”
“Yes.”
“Excellent hiding.”
Rose smiled faintly.
“Anna was twenty-six and terrified.”
I looked at her.
“What happened?”
Rose's expression changed.
“Sixteen years ago, Anna discovered she was pregnant two weeks after you left for Europe.”
“I did not leave her.”
“You did.”
“What?”
“You had the relationship for three months.”
“Yes.”
“Then Salvatore told you the Vale family was connected to federal investigators.”
I remembered.
My father said Anna's brother was cooperating with prosecutors.
I ended things.
Coldly.
Immediately.
I had believed I was protecting the family.
Of course.
“Her brother?”
“Was not an informant.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Another lie.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Your father discovered Anna was pregnant before you did.”
My body went still.
“How?”
“Medical surveillance.”
“What?”
“Salvatore watched everyone close to you.”
Sloan stared at me.
“You lived like this?”
“I did not know.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
No.
I had known enough.
“Why did he care about pregnancy?”
Rose answered.
“The Bellini trust.”
“Eva qualified.”
“Yes.”
“But Willa did not exist.”
“Eva was the first direct heir in your branch after Isabella.”
I frowned.
“I qualified.”
“Adult male control was contested under an old amendment.”
“Why?”
Rose looked uncomfortable.
“Lucia Bellini did not trust Moretti husbands.”
That was almost funny.
“She structured certain voting rights so qualifying daughters could trigger a reversion.”
Sloan leaned forward.
“Meaning Eva could take assets out of the Moretti-controlled holding company.”
“At adulthood, yes.”
“How much?”
“Billions now.”
I looked toward Willa.
This was not inheritance.
It was bait.
“Salvatore wanted Eva hidden.”
“Yes.”
“Carlo?”
“Wanted her controlled.”
“Difference?”
“Your father planned to create a trust for her but keep her identity secret.”
I laughed.
“My family's favorite solution.”
“Carlo wanted legal guardianship eventually.”
“Through who?”
“Anna.”
Rose looked down.
“Or without Anna.”
The room became cold.
“What happened to her?”
I asked.
“Carlo approached her first.”
“Threatened?”
“Yes.”
“She ran?”
“Not far.”
“Then?”
“I found her.”
“Why you?”
Rose's eyes filled.
“Because I had already saved one girl from them.”
Isabella.
I leaned back.
“You hid Anna as Isabella.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Isabella's records already existed inside protected family systems.”
“You used my dead sister's identity.”
“She was not dead.”
“Exactly.”
Rose nodded.
“It was dangerous.”
“Stupid.”
“Yes.”
“Did Isabella agree?”
Rose hesitated.
“Eventually.”
I hated that word.
“Did Eva ever meet her?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“At least not knowingly.”
That answer irritated me.
Sloan asked:
“Where is Anna now?”
Rose looked at her.
“Hudson Valley.”
“No armed men?”
“No.”
“Can we go?”
Rose looked toward me.
I waited.
Sloan noticed.
“Thank you.”
Apparently silence could be progress.
We left Willa with Jenna and hospital security.
Sloan insisted I go.
“She's your daughter too.”
“Which one?”
The question escaped before I could stop it.
Both.
Willa.
Eva.
Sixteen years apart.
One four weeks.
One sixteen years.
Two daughters.
Two mothers.
One father who knew nothing.
At the Hudson Valley house, Anna Vale opened the door.
I forgot how to breathe.
Sixteen years changed people.
Her dark hair contained silver now.
Her face was thinner.
But her green eyes were the same.
She stared.
“Vincent.”
My name sounded like a ghost.
I said nothing.
Then a girl appeared behind her.
Tall.
Dark hair.
Gray eyes.
Not Willa's newborn gray.
Mine.
Her face was Anna's.
Her mouth was mine.
Sixteen.
My daughter.
Eva looked between us.
“Mom?”
Anna began crying.
Eva's expression hardened immediately.
“What happened?”
Anna looked at me.
Then at Sloan.
Then Rose.
“No.”
She stepped backward.
“You promised.”
Rose whispered:
“Carlo knows.”
Anna went pale.
“What?”
“He knows Willa exists. Leon was caught.”
Eva frowned.
“Who is Willa?”
Nobody answered quickly enough.
Teenagers notice.
“Mom.”
Anna closed her eyes.
“Come inside.”
We did.
Eva remained standing.
Arms folded.
“What is happening?”
Anna looked at her daughter.
“I need to tell you about your father.”
Eva's eyes shifted toward me.
Then back.
“No.”
Anna started crying harder.
“Eva.”
“No.”
She pointed at me.
“That's Vincent Moretti.”
I almost laughed at the absurdity.
“You know me?”
“You own half the hotels in Manhattan.”
Public version.
Good.
“And Mom hates crime documentaries.”
Sloan made a tiny sound that might have been a laugh.
Eva looked at me again.
Her face changed slowly.
“No.”
Anna whispered:
“Yes.”
Eva backed away.
“No.”
“I am sorry.”
“You said Dad died.”
Anna covered her mouth.
“I know.”
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid.”
Eva looked at Rose.
“You too?”
Rose nodded.
“Yes.”
Then at me.
“You knew?”
“No.”
One word.
Immediate.
She stared.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
That surprised her.
“You don't?”
“I expect you to decide when you have enough information.”
Sloan looked at me.
Eva's eyes narrowed.
“Who is she?”
“Sloan.”
“My ex-wife.”
Sloan added:
“And Willa's mother.”
Eva went still.
“Willa.”
Sloan swallowed.
“Your sister.”
Silence.
“My what?”
I felt the world hold its breath.
“Half-sister.”
Eva stared.
“How old?”
“Four weeks.”
She looked at Anna.
Then me.
Then Sloan.
“This is insane.”
“Yes.”
Finally something we all agreed on.
Eva walked toward the stairs.
Anna followed.
“Please.”
“No.”
“Eva.”
“I need five minutes where nobody tells me I have a secret billionaire crime father and a baby sister.”
Fair.
She disappeared upstairs.
Anna turned on me.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“I agree.”
That startled her.
“Then leave.”
“I will if Eva asks.”
Anna froze.
“You've changed.”
“No.”
I looked toward Sloan.
“I am trying.”
Then a window exploded.
Sloan ducked.
I pulled her behind the stone kitchen island.
Rose dropped.
Anna screamed:
“Eva!”
Another shot hit the wall.
Not warning.
Not intimidation.
Someone had found us.
I reached for the gun beneath my jacket.
Stopped.
Police.
Outside help.
Different reflex.
I called 911 while Sloan ran toward the stairs.
Anna followed.
I covered them.
No Moretti army.
No order for retaliation.
Only one thought.
Carlo had spent sixteen years keeping Eva hidden because he wanted her controlled.
Now Willa existed.
May you like
The replacement.
And someone had apparently decided one heir was enough.
