Chapter 5 - The Letter Rebecca Never Sent
By evening, Grace had been moved to a private room on the high-risk obstetrics floor.
She hated the private room immediately.
Not because it was unpleasant.
Because it was too pleasant.
There was a sofa beneath the window.
A small refrigerator.
A bathroom larger than the kitchen in her apartment.
Fresh flowers arrived before she did.
Grace stared at them.
There was no card.
She knew exactly who had sent them.
When Vincent entered an hour later, she pointed at the arrangement.
“Take those back.”
He looked at the flowers.
“They’re flowers.”
“They’re expensive flowers.”
“They are still flowers.”
“I don’t want them.”
Vincent nodded toward one of his men standing outside.
“Remove the flowers.”
The man did.
Grace had expected an argument.
Vincent sat in the chair beside the window.
He looked tired now.
Not weak.
Just older than he had looked in the lobby.
Grace watched him.
“Did you pay for this room?”
“Yes.”
“I knew it.”
“The hospital wanted to move you for security.”
“I have insurance.”
“It does not cover this room.”
“Then move me back.”
“No.”
Grace’s eyes narrowed.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The part where you stop pretending I have a choice.”
Vincent was silent for a moment.
Then he stood.
“I’ll have billing move the charge to me anonymously.”
“That is the exact same thing.”
“No.”
“How?”
“You do not owe an anonymous donor dinner.”
“I do not owe you dinner either.”
A faint smile crossed his face.
“I suspected that.”
Grace almost smiled back.
She hated that too.
Vincent’s expression became serious.
“The police are at your apartment.”
“What did they find?”
“No forced entry.”
“Because my landlord gave Eric a key.”
“Yes.”
“Did he really believe I authorized it?”
“No.”
Grace went still.
“What?”
“Your landlord says a man paid him two thousand dollars to provide temporary access.”
Grace closed her eyes.
“Of course he did.”
“He claims he did not know why.”
“Do you believe him?”
Vincent leaned back.
“I believe people usually understand more than they admit when cash is involved.”
Grace opened her eyes.
“That sounds like experience.”
“It is.”
He did not pretend otherwise.
Grace studied him.
“Who is Mr. Vale?”
Vincent’s face hardened.
“His real name was Leonard Valesco.”
“Was?”
“He died six years ago.”
“So Eric wasn’t talking to him.”
“No.”
“What did Valesco do for your father?”
Vincent looked toward the closed door.
“When my father wanted pressure applied without public attention, Valesco handled it.”
“What kind of pressure?”
“Threats.”
“Blackmail?”
“Yes.”
“Violence?”
Vincent looked at Grace.
“Yes.”
She swallowed.
“Did he hurt my mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did your father ask him to?”
“I don’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I will not lie to you to make myself look better.”
The answer angered her because she respected it.
Vincent reached into his coat.
Grace tensed.
He noticed.
His hand stopped.
Then he slowly removed a folded plastic evidence sleeve.
Inside was a yellowed envelope.
Grace stared at it.
“What is that?”
“Something Teresa found in our father’s old papers.”
“When?”
“Today.”
“How convenient.”
“Yes.”
Vincent did not flinch.
“She went to the family storage vault after Eric mentioned Rebecca trying to return.”
Grace looked at the envelope again.
Her name was written on the front.
Not Grace.
Vincent.
The handwriting made her chest tighten.
She knew it.
Her mother had written grocery lists in the same slanted hand.
Birthday cards.
Notes tucked inside Grace’s lunch bag.
Grace reached for the sleeve.
Vincent handed it over.
The envelope had never been opened.
The seal was intact.
Grace looked at him.
“You’ve never read it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It is addressed to me.”
“That is usually why people read letters.”
Vincent’s expression did not change.
“It belonged in my father’s locked files.”
He paused.
“I wanted you to see that before I opened it.”
Grace stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because if Rebecca wrote it, somebody prevented it from reaching me.”
Grace’s throat tightened.
“And because if it says something about you, you have more right to know than I do.”
For a long time, neither of them moved.
Then Grace handed the envelope back.
“Open it.”
Vincent’s fingers hesitated on the seal.
It was the first hesitation Grace had seen from him that had nothing to do with her face.
He broke the old paper carefully.
Inside was a single sheet.
Vincent unfolded it.
His eyes moved across the first line.
Then stopped.
Grace’s heart pounded.
“What?”
He did not answer.
“Read it.”
Vincent’s voice was rough when he began.
“Vincent.”
He paused.
Grace waited.
“I don’t know if your father will let this reach you.”
Vincent stopped again.
His jaw tightened.
Grace whispered.
“Keep going.”
He did.
“He says you chose the family and that you never want to see me again.”
“I don’t believe him.”
“I am leaving because I am afraid of what will happen if I stay.”
Grace felt tears rise.
Vincent’s voice broke slightly on the next line.
“I wanted to tell you in person, but they will not let me near you.”
He lowered the page.
Grace’s hands shook.
“What does it say?”
Vincent looked at her.
Then forced himself to continue.
“I am pregnant.”
The room disappeared around Grace.
She stared at Vincent.
He stared back.
Neither moved.
The fetal monitor kept ticking steadily beside the bed.
Vincent continued reading.
“The doctor says I am almost eight weeks.”
“I have not told anyone except Teresa.”
Grace’s eyes snapped open wider.
“Teresa knew?”
Vincent stopped.
The door opened.
Teresa stood there.
Her face had already answered.
Grace looked at her.
“You knew my mother was pregnant.”
Teresa gripped the doorframe.
“Yes.”
Vincent stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.
“You knew?”
Teresa’s eyes filled.
“I knew for one day.”
Vincent’s face was terrifying now.
“One day?”
“She told me the afternoon before she disappeared.”
“And you never told me?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“That night.”
Teresa’s voice shook.
“Father caught me outside your room.”
Vincent stepped toward her.
“What did he do?”
“He told me Rebecca had already left.”
“That she admitted the baby was not yours.”
Grace flinched.
Vincent stared at his sister.
“And you believed him?”
“I was nineteen.”
Vincent slammed his palm against the wall.
The sound made Grace jump.
He immediately looked at her.
Regret crossed his face.
“Sorry.”
Grace’s voice was cold.
“Finish the letter.”
Vincent forced himself back toward the bed.
He lifted the page.
“If you want nothing to do with me, I will accept it.”
“But I cannot let them decide for you.”
“If this child is yours, I will raise her with love whether you come or not.”
Grace closed her eyes.
Her.
Rebecca had known.
Or believed she knew.
Vincent continued.
“I am going to stay with my aunt in Camden for a while.”
“Teresa knows where.”
“When it is safe, I will contact you again.”
“Please do not believe everything your father tells you about me.”
“I have never taken money from him.”
“I never will.”
The next sentence made Vincent stop breathing.
Grace opened her eyes.
“What?”
Vincent looked down at the page.
Then at Teresa.
“Read it,” Grace said.
Vincent did.
“If something happens to me, ask Anthony what he did with the blue ledger.”
Teresa went pale.
Grace looked between them.
“Who is Anthony?”
Vincent folded the letter once.
His face had become unreadable.
“My cousin.”
“Where is he?”
Vincent looked at Grace.
“He is the chief financial officer of half the companies my family owns.”
Grace felt a chill.
“How old was he when my mother disappeared?”
“Twenty-three.”
“What is the blue ledger?”
“I don’t know.”
Teresa spoke from the doorway.
“I do.”
Vincent turned.
Teresa looked almost sick.
“Father kept two sets of books in those days.”
“One for legitimate business.”
“And one handwritten ledger for payments he never wanted on corporate records.”
Grace’s voice dropped.
“What color was it?”
Teresa swallowed.
“Blue.”
Vincent stared at her.
“Where is it?”
“I thought Father destroyed it.”
“Thought?”
Teresa looked at the letter.
“Anthony was the last person I saw carrying it.”
The room went quiet.
Then Vincent’s phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Marco.
Vincent answered.
“What?”
His expression changed.
Grace watched every trace of emotion disappear from his face.
“What bank?”
He listened.
Then he looked directly at Grace.
“Do not touch anything.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?” Teresa asked.
Vincent’s eyes stayed on Grace.
“Someone got to Eric’s safe-deposit box before we did.”
Grace’s stomach dropped.
“The records are gone?”
“Most of them.”
“Most?”
Vincent stepped closer.
“Marco found one photograph stuck beneath the lining.”
“What photograph?”
Vincent’s voice became quiet.
“A picture of Rebecca.”
Grace gripped the blanket.
“With Anthony Caruso.”
Teresa stared at him.
Vincent continued.
“And written on the back in Rebecca’s handwriting are three words.”
Grace whispered.
“What words?”
Vincent answered.
May you like
“HE KNOWS EVERYTHING.”
