Chapter 5: The Woman Who Knew My Wife
Daniel arrived forty minutes later carrying a leather briefcase and wearing the expression of a man who had just discovered a fire behind a locked door.
He barely glanced at the untouched coffee on the counter before asking to see the original documents.
I led him into Isabella's bedroom.
Rosalie stayed with Livia in the living room, keeping the television on low volume. I had asked her not to mention Bianca again unless Livia brought her up herself.
My daughter had suffered enough for one day.
Daniel put on a pair of reading glasses and examined the guardianship papers under the desk lamp.
“Where did you find these?””
“In my wife's locked desk.””
“Who knew the documents were here?””
“I don't know. Isabella, obviously. Maybe Rosalie. Bianca seems to have known something about the room.””
He nodded.
“Did Bianca ever have access to this apartment?””
“Yes. She had a key.””
“Does she still?””
I took out my phone and called the building manager.
Ten minutes later, a locksmith arrived.
While he changed the locks, Daniel continued examining the papers.
“There's a second signature here,” he said, pointing to the bottom of a financial authorization form.
“Yours.””
I leaned over the desk.
The signature looked like mine.
But I knew I had never signed that document.
“I didn't sign this.””
“Do you recognize the account number?””
I studied the printed details.
It belonged to a subsidiary account connected to Livia's trust.
I remembered signing paperwork when Isabella first established the trust. There had been stacks of forms, and we'd completed most of them in one afternoon.
But this document was dated six months after Isabella's death.
By then, I had barely been able to focus on ordinary business correspondence.
I certainly hadn't authorized anyone to manage my daughter's inheritance.
Daniel took several photographs.
“I'm going to need a forensic document examiner to compare these signatures. Don't assume anything until we have the results.””
“Can Bianca access the trust?””
“Not legally based on what we've seen so far. But we need the bank's records and the original trust agreement to determine whether anyone submitted additional documents.””
I leaned against the desk.
“Daniel, if someone tried to gain control of my daughter's inheritance, what would happen next?””
“That depends on the documents, the account structure, and whether any transaction was actually completed. Right now, our priority is protecting Livia's interests and preserving evidence.””
He placed the papers into a clear document sleeve.
“There's something else. The person who prepared these documents may have had access to information that wasn't publicly available. Your wife's trust details, your signature, and the dates of her medical treatment.””
I looked at him.
“Are you saying someone inside the hospital could have been involved?””
“I'm saying we shouldn't rule out any possibility. But we need evidence before making accusations.””
He closed his briefcase.
“Do you remember anyone helping Isabella with financial administration before she died?””
I searched my memory.
There had been a woman who visited the house twice during Isabella's final months. I remembered seeing a dark coat hanging by the front door and hearing Isabella speaking to someone in her study.
I had assumed it was a financial adviser.
“Not clearly,” I admitted.
“Isabella handled most of that herself.””
Daniel nodded.
“Then we start with the records.””
My phone vibrated.
An unfamiliar number appeared on the screen.
I answered.
“Alessandro Moretti?””
“Yes.””
“My name is Evelyn Shaw. I used to work at Westbridge Medical Center. I believe you need to know something about your late wife.””
I straightened.
“What about her?””
There was a pause.
“Are you alone?””
I looked at Daniel.
“I'm with my attorney.””
“That may be better.””
Her voice sounded strained, as if she'd rehearsed this conversation many times and still hadn't found the courage to make it.
“I worked in the hospital's administrative office when Isabella was receiving treatment. I handled some of the paperwork connected to her consultations.””
“What are you trying to tell me?””
“I recognized Bianca's name in the news today. Someone sent me a video of the wedding being canceled.””
My grip tightened around the phone.
“What does Bianca have to do with my wife's treatment?””
“I can't explain everything over the phone. But I kept a copy of a visitor authorization that was submitted shortly before Isabella died.””
“Who submitted it?””
“I believe it was Bianca.””
I glanced at Daniel.
He immediately began writing.
“What kind of authorization?”” I asked.
“A request to access certain records and speak with members of Isabella's medical team. The form stated that Isabella had given her permission.””
“Did she?””
“I don't know. I wasn't present when it was signed.””
“Was the form legitimate?””
Another pause.
“I raised concerns about the signature. My supervisor told me not to interfere.””
My stomach tightened.
“Why are you calling me now?””
“Because after Isabella died, I saw Bianca return to the administrative office. She asked whether the hospital still had copies of the authorization. When I told her the records were archived, she asked who could access them.””
“And what happened?””
“She was very specific about one thing. She wanted to know whether the hospital had any record of Isabella asking for an independent review of her treatment.””
I felt my mouth go dry.
“Did my wife ask for one?””
“I found a note in the file indicating that she had. The request was never completed.””
Daniel looked up sharply.
I could barely hear Evelyn's next words.
“Mr. Moretti, I think your wife was afraid someone was interfering with her care.””
The room went silent.
For two years, I had blamed myself for not recognizing how frightened Isabella had been during her final weeks.
Now a stranger was telling me that my wife might have suspected something was wrong.
“Can we meet?”” I asked.
“Yes. Tomorrow morning, at a café near the old hospital. I'll bring the copy I kept.””
“Why didn't you come forward sooner?””
Her answer was almost a whisper.
“Because the day after Isabella died, someone called me at home and told me to stop asking questions.””
The call ended shortly afterward.
I lowered my phone.
Daniel stared at me.
“We need to preserve that number and document everything she said. We also need to be careful. A suspicious form and a missed review request don't establish what happened medically.””
“I understand.””
“Do you?””
I looked at the photograph of Isabella holding newborn Livia.
“I need to know whether someone hurt my wife.””
Daniel's expression softened.
“Then we'll follow the evidence.””
That evening, I sat beside Livia on the living-room sofa while Rosalie prepared dinner.
My daughter had changed into pink pajamas. Her hair was covered with a soft cotton scarf the doctor had recommended to protect her irritated scalp.
She held a picture book in her lap but wasn't reading it.
“Daddy?””
“Yes?””
“Will my hair grow back before Christmas?””
I looked at the uneven strands above her ear.
“I hope so, sweetheart.””
“What if it doesn't?””
“Then we'll find a hairstyle you love.””
She frowned.
“Can you make it long again?””
“I can't make it grow faster, but I can help you take care of it.””
She considered that, then leaned against me.
“Mommy used to brush my hair every night.””
“I remember.””
“She never pulled it.””
My throat tightened.
“No, she didn't.””
“Bianca pulled it when she was angry.””
I turned toward her.
“When?””
Livia stared at the picture book.
“Sometimes when you were at work. She said I was taking too long to get dressed.””
I kept my voice gentle.
“Did she hurt you before today?””
Livia nodded slightly.
“Not like today.””
I took her hand.
“Sweetheart, you can tell me anything. You won't get in trouble for telling the truth.””
“She said I shouldn't tell you because you'd think I was making things up.””
I closed my eyes briefly.
“How long has she been saying that?””
“Since she started staying at our house.””
The words landed like stones.
I had been so relieved to find someone who appeared to understand my grief that I had ignored the small changes in my daughter's behavior.
Livia had stopped asking Bianca to read bedtime stories.
She had begun checking my face whenever I mentioned the wedding.
And she'd started apologizing for things no child should feel responsible for.
I'd mistaken those signs for ordinary adjustment.
I pulled her close.
“I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner.””
She looked up at me.
“Are you mad at yourself?””
“A little.””
“Don't be,” she whispered.
“You came when I called.””
I kissed her forehead.
“I'll always come when you call.””
For the first time that day, she smiled.
Then she reached into the pocket of her pajamas and pulled out a small folded piece of paper.
“I found this in Mommy's box.””
I unfolded it.
The paper contained a short handwritten note.
Blue ledger. Storage room. Ask Evelyn.
I stared at the words.
“Where did you find this?””
“It was under the picture of Mommy and me.””
Daniel, who had been standing near the dining table, walked over.
“Evelyn,” he murmured.
I nodded.
The note connected the missing ledger to the woman from the hospital.
But why would Isabella have written her name on a piece of paper hidden in a box meant for Livia?
I turned the note over.
On the back was an address.
Not the hospital.
A storage facility on the outskirts of the city.
I called the number listed on the facility's website.
A manager answered and confirmed that a storage unit had been rented under Isabella's name shortly before her death.
The account was still active.
I asked who had paid the most recent invoice.
The manager checked his records.
“I'm sorry, sir. I can only provide that information to the account holder or an authorized representative.””
“I'm her husband.””
“I understand, but I need documentation.””
I gave him my details and arranged to bring the necessary paperwork in the morning.
When I ended the call, Daniel looked concerned.
“Don't go there alone.””
“I won't.””
“And don't tell Bianca about the storage unit.””
I gave him a humorless smile.
“She won't hear it from me.””
My phone rang again.
This time, the number was hidden.
I answered without speaking.
For three seconds, there was only silence.
Then a woman's voice whispered, “If you want to know what happened to Isabella, stop looking for the ledger.””
My blood ran cold.
“Who is this?””
“Your wife trusted the wrong person.””
“Who?””
The woman took a shaky breath.
“Bianca wasn't the first person to want control of Livia's future.””
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone.
Daniel stepped closer.
“What happened?””
I told him everything.
He immediately called the police non-emergency line to ask how we should document the threat.
But before he finished, another message appeared on my screen.
A photograph.
It showed the entrance to our apartment building.
Taken less than a minute earlier.
Beneath it were six words.
Your daughter is safer without you.
I looked toward the hallway where Livia was brushing her teeth with Rosalie.
May you like
Someone was watching us.
And whoever it was knew exactly where my daughter slept.
