Chapter 5
Vincenzo led us to the study.
Clarissa walked ahead of me, her posture suddenly confident. Like she knew something we didn't. Like she held all the cards.
My hands trembled. I didn't know what Vincenzo had found. But I knew it was bad.
Father stood by the window when we entered. He didn't turn around.
"Tell me," he said.
Vincenzo opened his briefcase and pulled out several documents. He spread them on the desk.
"The pharmacy records," he said. "Mrs. Moretti was prescribed digoxin for her heart. Standard dosage. But the pharmacy refilled her prescription three times in the last month. That's three times more than she should have needed."
Father turned around. His face was like stone.
"Someone was giving her extra," Vincenzo continued. "Not enough to kill her immediately. But enough to weaken her heart over time. Enough to make the final heart attack look natural."
"Clarissa," Father said. His voice was barely audible.
"I didn't do anything," Clarissa said. But her voice wavered. Just a little.
"There's more," Vincenzo said. He pulled out another document. "I spoke with the night nurse. She saw someone in Mrs. Moretti's room at 2 a.m. three nights before she died. Someone who wasn't family. She thought it was a new doctor. She didn't get a good look. But she remembered the perfume. Expensive. French."
He looked directly at Clarissa.
"Chanel No. 5," he said.
Clarissa's hand went to her neck. The same perfume she wore every day.
"Coincidence," she said. "Lots of women wear Chanel No. 5."
"There's also this." Vincenzo pulled out a small plastic bag. Inside was a half-empty pill bottle. "Found this hidden in the back of the closet in the guest room. The room Clarissa used when she stayed at the house. The pills are digoxin. Extra strength. And there are fingerprints on the bottle. We're running them now, but I'd bet money they belong to Clarissa."
The room went silent.
Clarissa looked at the pill bottle. Then she looked at Father. Then at me.
The mask finally cracked.
"She was going to change the will," Clarissa said. Her voice was raw. Ugly. "Helena found out about the money. The money Emilio and I took from the business. She was going to cut us both out. Everything. We would have had nothing."
"So you killed her," Father said.
"I didn't kill her!" Clarissa shouted. "I just... I just gave her a little extra. To make her confused. To make her forget what she found. I didn't mean for her to die. It was an accident!"
"An accident?" I stepped forward. The anger was overwhelming. "You poisoned my mother. You watched her get sicker and sicker. And then you took my brother on vacation while she died! That's not an accident. That's murder."
"Emilio didn't know!" Clarissa turned to me, desperate now. "I swear it. He had no idea about the pills. He's an idiot, but he's not a killer. I manipulated him. I told him the inheritance was real. I pushed him to go on the trip. I wanted him gone so he wouldn't ask questions. So he wouldn't figure out what I'd done."
Emilio.
Poor, stupid Emilio. He'd been played. Used. By his own wife.
But that didn't excuse him. He still chose to go. He still chose to abandon our mother.
Father walked toward Clarissa. He moved slowly. Deliberately.
"You destroyed my family," he said. "You killed the woman I loved. You used my son. You tried to steal from my daughter."
He stopped in front of her.
"You have no idea what you've done," he said quietly.
Clarissa backed away. Fear finally showed in her eyes.
"Giovanni, please," she said. "I'm sorry. I made a mistake. Let me make it right. I'll leave. I'll never come back. I'll—"
"Silence."
The single word cut through the room.
Father turned to the bodyguards at the door.
"Call the police," he said.
Everyone froze.
In our world, we handled things internally. Family problems stayed in the family. We didn't call the police. We didn't air our dirty laundry in public.
But Father was done.
"Call the police," he repeated. "Tell them we have a woman here who has confessed to poisoning my wife. Tell them to send homicide detectives."
"Giovanni, no!" Clarissa screamed. "You can't do this! The family name—"
"The family name died when you killed my wife," he said. "The only thing that matters now is justice for Helena."
The bodyguards nodded and left the room.
Clarissa collapsed onto the sofa. She was crying now. Real tears. Not the fake ones from earlier.
I stood there, watching her. I should have felt satisfaction. I should have felt like justice was being served.
But I just felt empty.
Clarissa was going to prison. That was right. That was fair.
But my mother was still gone.
My brother was still a stranger.
My family was still broken.
And something Clarissa had said earlier echoed in my mind.
Your mother wasn't the saint everyone thinks she was. She had secrets. Dark secrets.
I looked at Father. He stood by the window again, staring out at the dark garden.
What secrets was Mother hiding?
And what did Clarissa mean about Emilio being more like Father than he wanted to admit?
I had a feeling that even with Clarissa's confession, we were only scratching the surface.
May you like
There was more to this story.
Much more.
