Chapter 9 - ValentinaValentina looked different without the clothes Elena remembered from photographs.
There was no designer dress.
No polished smile.
No appearance of political perfection.
She wore jeans, boots, and a dark coat.
She looked tired.
Older.
Human.
Elena had once imagined her as the woman who had taken Marco away.
Now she understood how simplistic that had been.
Valentina had been trapped too.
“So you knew,” Elena said.
Valentina nodded.
“My father knew your father.”
“How?”
“Business.”
“What kind?”
“The kind men lie about.”
Elena almost smiled.
“At least you're honest.”
“I've had practice.”
Marco stepped forward.
“You said your family killed her father.”
“My father ordered it.”
“Why?”
“Because your father had evidence.”
“Against him?”
“Yes.”
“What evidence?”
Valentina looked at Elena.
“Your father knew about a network of offshore accounts.”
Elena frowned.
“That sounds like the evidence Marco gave the prosecutors.”
“It is.”
Marco went still.
Valentina continued.
“Your father had the original records.”
“Where?”
“He gave them to Gabriel.”
“But Gabriel said my father gave them to me.”
“He did.”
Elena looked confused.
“Then where are they?”
Valentina smiled sadly.
“You've already seen them.”
Elena looked at the folder.
“The records?”
“No.”
She pointed to the photograph.
“The photograph.”
Elena stared.
Valentina explained.
“The photograph has a second layer.”
Marco picked it up.
He examined it.
“Nothing.”
“Under the backing.”
He carefully removed the paper.
A thin strip of film was hidden beneath it.
Elena stared.
“What is that?”
“Microfilm.”
Marco looked at Valentina.
“How did you know?”
“My father told me.”
“When?”
“Before he died.”
Marco looked at her.
“You knew he was going down.”
“I knew he was guilty.”
“And you did nothing?”
Valentina's eyes hardened.
“You think I had a choice?”
“You always had a choice.”
She laughed bitterly.
“That is easy for a man to say after he escaped.”
Marco flinched.
Valentina looked at Elena.
“I married him because my father ordered it.”
“I know.”
“You think I wanted him?”
“No.”
“You think I hated you?”
“I don't know.”
“I didn't.”
That surprised Elena.
Valentina looked away.
“I hated the situation.”
Silence.
“I knew Marco loved you.”
Elena felt her chest tighten.
“How?”
“Because he said your name once.”
“When?”
“After our wedding.”
Valentina smiled sadly.
“He was drunk.”
“He didn't drink.”
“He did that night.”
Elena said nothing.
“He said he had lost the only person who made him feel like a man instead of an heir.”
Marco closed his eyes.
Valentina continued.
“I asked who you were.”
“He told you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because he was loyal to you.”
Elena looked at Marco.
He didn't meet her eyes.
Valentina stood.
“I came because I want this finished.”
“What do you want?”
“Freedom.”
“For yourself?”
“For my family.”
“Your father is going to prison.”
“Yes.”
“My brother is dead.”
“I know.”
“And the remaining people want me dead.”
“Yes.”
“So why help us?”
Valentina looked at Elena.
“Because I'm tired of men deciding that women are pieces on a board.”
Elena understood.
Valentina walked toward the door.
“Keep the microfilm.”
Marco stopped her.
“Wait.”
She turned.
“Why did your father kill Elena's father?”
Valentina's expression changed.
“He didn't.”
Marco frowned.
“You said—”
“He ordered it.”
“That's the same thing.”
“No.”
She looked at Elena.
“My father ordered the shooting.”
“But you said he didn't die.”
“He survived.”
Elena froze.
“What?”
Valentina continued.
“Your father survived the shooting.”
The room disappeared.
Elena stared.
“What are you saying?”
“He was taken to a private hospital.”
“Which one?”
“I don't know.”
“You said he survived.”
“For six months.”
Elena's knees nearly gave out.
“Six months?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did everyone tell me he died?”
Valentina looked at Marco.
“He disappeared.”
Marco looked stunned.
“Why?”
“Because he went into hiding.”
“From whom?”
“Everyone.”
Elena could barely speak.
“My father was alive?”
“For six months.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“Who knows?”
Valentina looked toward Gabriel.
“Maybe him.”
All eyes turned.
Gabriel's face was unreadable.
Elena stepped toward him.
“You knew?”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Where was he?”
“Montreal.”
She stopped.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because he asked me not to.”
“You let me grieve him.”
“He believed grief would keep you safe.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“He believed if Adrian thought you were truly alone, he would stop looking.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because your father was wrong.”
Elena felt something inside her crack.
She had spent fourteen years grieving a man who had apparently spent his final months alive somewhere she never knew.
She didn't know whether to scream or cry.
Marco moved toward her.
This time she didn't stop him.
He put his arms around her.
She collapsed against him.
“I hate this,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“I hate all of you.”
“I know.”
“I hate that everyone thought they were protecting me.”
“I know.”
She gripped his shirt.
“And I hate that I still love you.”
His arms tightened.
“I know.”
She cried.
Not gracefully.
Not quietly.
She cried for her father.
For the girl she had been.
For the years she had lost.
For the lies.
For the man holding her.
For the child sleeping at home who had no idea how much history was buried beneath her ordinary life.
When she finally pulled away, she wiped her face.
“I want the truth.”
May you like
Gabriel nodded.
“Then we go to Montreal.”
