Chapter 9 - THE CHOICEThe power returned twelve minutes later.
The cameras didn't.
Vincent didn't wait for them.
He found Clara in the library.
She was sitting alone.
The photograph of her mother was on the table.
"Tell me."
Clara looked up.
"I don't know everything."
"Tell me what you know."
She stared at the photograph.
"My mother worked for Adrian."
Vincent sat opposite her.
"Doing what?"
"Legal and financial work."
"What kind?"
"Transfers. Contracts. Private accounts."
Vincent listened.
"She told me once that some people didn't steal money."
Clara paused.
"They stole identities."
Vincent's expression changed.
"Whose?"
"She never said."
A long silence.
"Why did she become afraid?"
"Because she found something."
"What?"
"I don't know."
Vincent leaned forward.
"Clara."
"My mother stopped trusting everyone."
She looked at him.
"Even me."
Vincent sat back.
That sentence landed harder than he expected.
"She believed someone inside the family was using another person's identity."
Vincent's mind returned to the administrator account.
"Adrian."
"Maybe."
"Your mother knew him."
"Yes."
"And my wife?"
Clara nodded slowly.
"They knew each other too."
Vincent stood.
Before he could say anything, Dominic entered.
"There's a woman at the gate."
"Who?"
"Eleanor Grant."
Vincent froze.
The name belonged to his father's former attorney.
"Eleanor died years ago."
"Apparently not."
They went to the gate.
An elderly woman stepped from a black SUV.
She wore a dark coat and carried no luggage.
She looked directly at Vincent.
"You're taller than I remember."
Vincent stared.
"You know me."
"I knew your father."
"You were his attorney."
"Yes."
"What happened to him?"
Eleanor looked toward the mansion.
"Your father wasn't the man you were told he was."
Vincent's expression hardened.
"What does that mean?"
"He wasn't the mastermind."
"Then who was?"
"Adrian."
Clara stepped closer.
"My mother knew."
Eleanor looked at her.
"Your mother knew enough to become dangerous."
"Is she alive?"
Eleanor didn't answer.
Clara's breath caught.
Vincent looked at Eleanor.
"Where is she?"
"Safe."
"Where?"
"Somewhere Adrian can't reach."
Vincent stared at her.
"You said my father wasn't the mastermind."
"He wasn't."
"Then why was he blamed?"
"Because Adrian used his name."
Vincent felt cold.
"My father authorized the transactions?"
"His credentials did."
"But he didn't."
"No."
"Then who did?"
Eleanor looked directly at him.
"You."
Vincent went still.
"What?"
"Your identity was used."
"That's impossible."
"You were the perfect shield."
Vincent remembered old documents.
Signatures.
Passwords.
Travel records.
Times he couldn't account for.
Memories he had dismissed because everyone had told him the records were accurate.
Eleanor continued.
"Adrian needed everyone to believe Vincent Rossi was responsible."
Vincent shook his head.
"Why would he choose me?"
"Because you were the person your family would protect."
Clara looked at him.
"And your father?"
Eleanor's face softened.
"He found out."
"What happened?"
"He tried to expose Adrian."
"And then?"
"He died."
Vincent stared at the mansion.
His entire childhood seemed to rearrange itself in front of him.
His father.
His brother.
His wife.
The money.
The cameras.
Matteo.
All of it connected.
Then Dominic's radio crackled.
"Sir."
"What?"
"We've lost power."
The mansion went dark.
A gunshot sounded upstairs.
Clara screamed.
Vincent ran.
The cameras remained black.
The hallway lights failed.
For the first time in his life, Vincent had to move through his own house without knowing what was waiting around the next corner.
He reached Matteo's room.
Empty.
The teddy bear lay on the floor.
On the wall, written in black ink:
YOU NEVER REALLY WATCHED.
Vincent stared at the words.
Then he heard a scream from outside.
May you like
Matteo.
He ran toward the greenhouse.
